Then, like a coward, I ran away. Could I be any more of an asshole? I can’t even imagine what he thinks of me now.
And then he walks in here and seems just as flustered as I am…
Fuck.
Mussing my hair, I pull at my lightly peppered strands in frustration. I thought I was supposed to go through stuff like this in my twenties, not my late forties.
Deciding there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment, I wake up my laptop to resume my super stimulating activity.
I don’t know what I’m expecting to see when my screen comes back to life, but spotting Savannah and another woman on my screen dressed to the nines is not it.
The image is grainy, another reason to put up my own cameras, but I can still make out the way the short red dress Savannah is wearing hugs her body. The few pixels, depicting her sensual hips, are enough to have me thinking with my dick rather than my brain.
The other woman waves her hand in the air, hailing a taxi as she and Savannah huddle together for warmth.
My jaw ticks. A taxi is better than the subway, but I still don’t like it.
A yellow sedan pulls up to the curb next to them, and the women open the rear door, shuffling into the backseat.
“Where do you think you’re going, Dream Girl?” I utter to myself as the taxi drives away.
I take note of the medallion number and follow their path through CCTV footage. They head north, crossing the Williamsburg Bridge into Manhattan, specifically the Lower East Side.
The taxi slows to a stop in front of a familiar location, and my nostrils flare.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing there?” Savannah can’t hear me. I know that, and it’s probably a good thing because I’m gripping the base of my laptop so hard that I think it might crack.
I watch as Savannah and her friend get out of the cab and scurry to the entrance of their destination. There’s a line, so they’ll have to wait in the cold. They hug each other, sharing body heat.
Keeping my laptop open on my bed, I stride to my closet and dress in my plain black shirt, black sport coat, and slim-fit black pants. I slide on my shoes, then dart into my bathroom to fix my hair and refresh my cologne.
Satisfied with my appearance, I return to my laptop to find Savannah and her friend being led to the front of the line by a man I recognize. He and the bouncer exchange a nod, and the bouncer opens the velvet rope to let the women inside.
Swiping my phone from my bedside table, I make a quick call.
“Good evening, sir. What can I do for you?” William is formal as always.
“Bring the car around,” I instruct with a little more bite than I should. “I’m going out.”
The man leading Savannah and her friend places his hand on her back, urging her to walk in front of him now, and everything inside me grows hot.
“Where to, sir?” William inquires respectfully.
“Onyx.”
CHAPTER 13
SAVANNAH
The back of the taxi smells like pee and cigarettes. My deep red dress is so short that most of my bare leg touches the seat. I have to breathe through my mouth to keep myself from throwing up.
I had completely forgotten about the plans with Blake tonight, so when Blake showed up at my apartment, I thought we were having a movie night. Then she handed me this dress and told me to trust her.
I’m not terribly self-conscious of my curves, but I’m not used to wearing dresses like this. In fact, I’m not used to wearing dresses, period.
But this dress is more revealing than I’d like it to be. The hem barely reaches the top of my thighs. The neckline dips low and is held up by dainty chains that loop over my shoulders and crisscross just below my shoulder blades. The back dips low.
Very low.
