I grab her hand and press her palm to my mouth.
“I’m not having sex with him. I’m here for moral support for my sister.”
“And I thought my family bonding activities were fucked-up.”
She almost loses her balance when I grab her wrist and jerk her. My hand on the curve of her waist steadies her.
I idly wonder how far she’d let me get if, instead of taking her to the private dining room, I took her upstairs to my penthouse, pushed her against the wall, and dug my fingers into the soft skin of her ass until she bruised.
The GM of the NBA team blanches when I walk into the private dining room of the Michelin-star restaurant, my fingers twined in hers.
“Gentlemen.” They all wilt under my gaze. I let the silence sink in until they look like they’re about to faint. “I take it you can’t attract a woman, so you have to resort to trying to bribe mine.”
“I wasn’t,” the GM whines. “She offered. There was a group discount.”
I slam a stack of hundred-dollar bills on the table in front of the GM. “You caught me on a good day, so I’m going to reimburse you. How about that? Next time you talk to the press behind my back, give them a good word about me.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he moans and stumbles out of the private dining room.
I survey the rest of them. They’re all like the little wind-up toys that used to come in the cereal boxes that Salinger would let me have to play with.
I turn to the VP of the NBA team. “Seems like we may have a job opening. Don’t suppose you’d be interested?”
He shakes his head.
“Seriously? You’re going to make me hire externally? No one wants to work these days.” I pull out a chair for Winnie then take my seat at the head of the table. “Maybe I could hire a woman for the job.” My gaze rests on Winnie.
“Not me. I hate sports. If I’d known that was what this meeting was, I’d have paid you not to go.”
“Now.” I flip out my napkin. “Gentlemen, I’m so glad you could join our quarterly corporate bonding meeting. Have as much wine as you want, but be advised: if any of you touch my things again, I’ll drown you in it.”
“You can’t talk to your employees like that.” Winnie pinches my thigh.
I grab her hand and kiss it. “They’re hiring prostitutes, Creampuff. Don’t defend them.”
“Escorts.” Winnie’s friend Carolina raises her hand. “And I’ve seen the way you talk to Olive, so…” Carolina gives Winnie a pointed look.
“Olive is incompetent.”
“As are mysports-team leadership.” I grab the bottle. “Why don’t you have some wine, Winnie?”
The two girls whisper furiously to each other. I catch “…be nice… opportunity…”
I lean in. “Ooh, are we gossiping?”
Winnie grabs her oyster fork and jabs at me. “Back. Mind your own business.”
“This is literally my business.”
The GMs and VPs from the four major sports franchises that I own and their wives-slash-girlfriends-slash-paid-accompaniment are stoic.
“You sound crazy,” Winnie hisses at me. “Like those nutso Roman emperors.”
“You’re my Roman empire. Besides, you’re running a porn circle at your doughnut shop. I should call the labor bureau on you. Yes, I saw the ads.”
“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m stuck here with you.”
I host these dinners because sometimes, I like to take all my stuff off of their shelves and spread it out and worship it. But now I have something more interesting to catch my attention.
