“They will when they know they have to. You know the Senate will support you.”
He stood in a suit and red tie, a cigar poking out of his front pocket like he’d forgotten he placed it there. He slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and he stood there with bloodshot eyes, like this affected him at the office and at home. “If people discovered the tariffs, I would be ruined.”
“Why not use the tariffs to support the treasury?”
“Because most of it is going to the reconstruction of Notre-Dame and the filtration of the Seine. I’m tired of hearing people complain about the water quality. People forget these systems were built hundreds of years ago. Not to mention our adherence to the Paris Agreement and the investment in new infrastructure to maintain our compliance.”
“Raise the tariffs.”
“When it’s so volatile?” he asked incredulously.
“It would fix everything.”
He gave a sigh as he dragged his hand across his face. “There’s already so much pushback from the gangs right now.”
“That’s my problem. Not yours.”
His eyes remained elsewhere for a while, lingering on the picture on the corner of his desk of his wife and two young children. His eyes eventually came back to me. “We need at least a two percent hike.”
“Consider it done.”
For the first time, his eyes relaxed. “That really would fix everything.”
“It’ll take a few months for business to flow as usual. It’s been a big cleanup.”
“I understand, Luca.” His hands returned to his pockets. “I was disappointed when Bastien left so suddenly. Wasn’t sure how this setup would continue without him to oversee it. But he assured me you were far more than capable—and he was right.”
My day ended around ten in the morning, when everyone else was getting into the hustle of their day. I walked into my bedroom, and it had been prepared for bedtime, the curtains drawn closed to block out the sun, my bed already turned down for the night.
I undressed and left the clothes on the floor of the closet for Andre to take care of later. I stepped into the hot shower andscrubbed the scent of booze and cigars from my skin before I did a quick towel-dry.
When I returned to the nightstand, I saw my phone light up with a message.
Can I come by?
It was her.
The woman who now lived down the hall. The one with the mouth I hadn’t stopped picturing. I’d been dead tired and eager for bed up until the moment I saw her text written out on my phone. She must have heard the machinery of the elevator or the beep when the doors opened.
I went from being dead tired to being rock hard.
My thumb typed the message without the use of my mind.Yes.I set the phone aside and drank water from the glass on my nightstand. I tossed the towel aside and stood naked next to the bed. I didn’t bother to put on a pair of clean boxers.
I heard her open the door in the other room.
I felt a small spike of adrenaline in my chest. “In here.”
Her footsteps were faint until they became louder through the crack in my door. She stepped in wearing nothing but a bright-pink thong with little white flowers threaded into the fabric. She was short and petite, but she had so much presence, she seemed like the biggest person in the world. Her tits were a contradiction to her petiteness, but I could tell by the way they looked and felt that they were natural.
Her toenails were painted black, and she had long legs that showed definition, like she walked all over this city on a dailybasis. Dark hair that matched mine, the strands rested on either side of her tits. What struck me most about her was her confidence. The way she could look at me across the room and strut right up to me without an ounce of uncertainty.
When I bedded women, I made all the moves, but with her, I didn’t have to. I didn’t have to make her feel secure or wanted. I had no preference for women based on their confidence, but when I saw her wear it as effortlessly as clothing, it turned me on.
She walked right up to me and kissed me, rising on her tiptoes and grabbing on to my shoulder as if she was about to climb my body like a mountain. Her lips were soft as rose petals, but her kiss was hard as steel. She kissed me like a lover rather than a stranger, like she wanted me rather than felt obligated to serve me.
I didn’t kiss a lot of women like this. Skipped the foreplay and stuck it in. But the way she moved her lips, the way her tongue danced with mine, meeting me halfway and even crossing the line, had quickly become an addiction. The way she grabbed me, the way she wanted me, the way she showed her appreciation…without my having to ask.
My arms hooked behind her knees, and I lifted her into me before I carried her to the bed and lay her down, rolling with her as my lips found hers again. I kissed her again and felt my spine tighten and melt at the same time. She cupped my face then slid her hand into my short hair—and she gave the tiniest moan.
