“Hello there,” I said when I was within a few feet of her.
Delilah glanced up at me. She gave no immediate reaction, turning back to her computer.
And then she jumped when she realized that despite my dress, I was Adrian Vale, and she stood up, catching her breath.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” she snapped. “You don’t belong here!”
“I don’t, but I am here anyways,” I said. “As for your question, I am here to talk to you, Delilah. You see, I think meeting in my space is far too personal. It puts you in an unfair position. I think the best place to let down our masks and show who we really are is, well, anywhere else. Would you not agree?”
Left unsaid was that any spot for Delilah Reyes was an unfair spot. She was good, certainly. Better than anyone else I’d ever engaged with, almost definitely.
But I was still better.
“Come with me,” she snapped. She left no room for discussion, not that I wanted one. It was all part of the bit—play what appeared to be a more casual version of myself before capitalizing when her guard dropped.
We walked through some more empty hallways, past individual offices that had no one in them. It was so quiet, I could hear the cleaning staff vacuuming a few office spaces down. I was tempted to crack a remark about job security, about how she’d be better working for us, but I knew better.
My sound bites had to be controlled and targeted, not just for my ego.
She eventually opened the door to a conference room with opaque windows, giving us complete privacy if she locked the door.
Which meant if I was good enough, I could fuck her tonight, right against that glass, for all the office to see.
“Now,” Delilah said, “what the hell are you doing here? And why are you dressed so… like that?”
Why, I could finally say.
“Before, let’s just say Adrian Vale and the King of Diamonds were inseparable,” I began. “Wherever you saw me, I was dressed as the self-made billionaire.”
“Made with your brothers.”
“Sure, whatever. Point being, I could understand why it might be difficult for you to feel comfortable around me. So, I thought, what if I just dressed well but not luxuriously?”
And, it went without saying, short sleeves and shorts that showed off my muscular arms, broad shoulders, thick calves, and who knew what else better? The King of Diamonds clothing did a wonderful job of telling everyone who the wealthiest person in the room was, but I wasn’t above reminding an interest of mine who the most well-developed physically person in the room was.
Anything to get her mind going. Anything to make her imagination just a bit more aroused. Anything to get her closer to dropping those panties underneath that professional skirt.
“Symbolic,” Delilah said, “and not a guarantee of anything. I’ve been around enough people like you who think that a simple gesture will solve all their problems. Man caught cheating with wife? Show up to interview with her holding a bunch of flowers. Businessman accused of fraud? Why, show up with two kids from a local charity whom they helped. Everything’s all good! Except it’s not.”
She motioned for a chair, holding out her hand. I chuckled but acquiesced. I could always stand up if need be.
“If you want to show me Adrian Vale, the person, and not Adrian Vale, the billionaire, then I suggest you do it with your words and your actions,” Delilah said. “I’m interested in that man, but simple showmanship that costs you nothing means nothing to me. I need proof that you value yourself over what being a billionaire gives you.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
It was a bit of a glib response, something to move the conversation along, but there was something rather striking about what Delilah had just said. No one had ever really forced that distinction on me; true, my brothers might occasionally speak in jest to me, and a couple long-lost friends would remark on how I’d changed with the money, but no woman had ever forced me to prove the distinction.
Some, it never got to this point. Some, the switch in clothing was enough. Some had even said what Delilah had said, but they hadn’t had the backbone to push it.
Just yet another example of how thrilling and exciting Delilah was.
“How would you like to start?”
“Why are you here?” she said. “That would be as good a start as any. And don’t give me a smartass answer. Give me a real answer. Give me an answer where I don’t have to call you out on your bullshit.”
Alright, I thought. A real answer.
Once we gave up the bullshit? It was empowering.
