Mr. Dark: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (Tamed Book 1) (2 page)

T
he VIP room
I got was the smallest in the club, which was fine by me. I don't roll with a posse or have an entourage. The bodyguard, a big guy named Jerome that I knew was effective for his size rather than his skill, gave me a respectful nod as I came to the door. "Sir."

"Jerome. I have a drink order coming up. It's the only interruption I would like for a while."

"Of course. You'll have privacy."

I led Sophie into the VIP Room, closing the door behind us. The thick insulation cut off the house music, and I took a deep breath of relief. I detest house music. "So what would you like to listen to?" I asked, as I let the silence wash over me in an awesome wave. "The sound system in here is connected to an online database, I think they once told me it has over a million songs available."

Her answer surprised me. With her student budget outfit comprising of wine red satin top, only semi-tight black skirt and forty dollar heels, I would have expected either pop or hip-hop. "Does it have Hans Zimmer?"

Her request pleased me. While Zimmer is no Beethoven, he's one of the best modern composers today, in my estimation. Williams is the master of the brass, Zimmer's got him beat in percussion and strings. "I'm sure I can find something," I said, keying the touchpad and searching. Finding what I wanted, I tapped in the request for random selections, and soon could hear my personal favorite come muted over the speakers. "What do you think?"

"
Time,
" Sophie replied, taking a sip of her mimosa. "Nice. I've used his work on
Crimson Tide
and Nolan's Batman movies for cardio workouts myself, but this is a pretty good one too."

I sat down next to her, and for the next hour we discussed music and art of all things. It was nice, an amazing change of pace from the normal conversations I have in my line of work, or the typical conversations I have with women, who are mostly interested in very banal things. I didn't once have to discuss just where I got my shirts from, or how expensive the watch I had on was.

As we talked, I was more and more impressed by Sophie. She kept herself to only two mimosas, sipping the drink carefully and not letting herself get drunk at all. I didn't tell her that the whole time I was sipping flat ginger ale, a modification of an old trick that I picked up from reading
Batman
as a little boy. With a drop of orange food coloring added, it looks just like aged scotch. By the time the last song drifted away, I knew that I wanted to see her again.

"You know, if you don't mind, I think I would like that dance now," I said, setting my empty glass aside and standing up. The VIP room had a small open area in the front, I'm sure it's been used for plenty of dancing of a different type than what I was wanting. "Would you?"

"I'd enjoy that," Sophie said, letting me pull her to her feet. She wasn't swaying at all, which was a good sign to me. She had handled the alcohol well. "What did you have in mind?"

Instead of answering, I tapped my request into the controller. The lights dimmed slightly, and slow saxophone filled the air. "Slow dancing should always be done to jazz," I told her, pulling Sophie in tight. My hands found the swell of her hips, resting lightly on the generous curve there. There's a saying that I agree with, even though I deride most of the people who use it as a whine. Real women do have curves, and Sophie's were wonderful. Pulling her in tight, her breasts pressed against my chest, and I could feel both of us breathing heavier, our eyes locked on each other as the slow jazz morphed, acquiring a heavy undercurrent of bass that brought us closer and closer together. I could feel Sophie's nipples hard against my chest, and my cock was aching inside my jeans, when she pulled back, suddenly shy.

"I'm sorry...." she said, her hand resting on the swell of one beautiful breast, encased in what I now knew was a Victoria's Secret Very Sexy bra. “I forgot. I can't. I have early work in the morning."

I was just about to reply when my cell phone, which I keep only for work, rang. I stifled a curse and pulled it out of my back pocket, flipping open the old fashioned looking phone. Despite outward appearances, it has all of the security technology you can get. It pays to be secure in my profession. "Yes?"

I
couldn't believe
what I'd just told him. I regretted what I'd said the moment it left my lips. Could I be any more of a geek? I don't know what came over me, the man was obviously into me, and I most certainly was into him. I guess I just got scared on where we were headed.

Mark listened on the phone for less than a minute before sighing and nodding. "Fine. I'll take care of it tonight. Yes, I'll call you when it's done."

He slammed shut his phone and looked over at me. I could still see the impressive swell of his cock in his jeans, and my body was still thrumming with arousal. Still, I could read it on his face. "Work?"

"The danger of being a freelancer," he said with a small smirk. "On the other hand, I can set my own vacations."

"I understand. Well, I should go anyway. It's a long cab ride back over to the North Side."

Mark shook his head and grinned. "You won't have to. The client that called me, they're located on the North Side. I can give you a ride, if you want. I promise, I'll be a total gentleman."

I looked at him and thought. Again, the angel and the devil were sitting on my shoulders, both of them talking in my ear.
You should really go home and take a long cold shower, get ready for work tomorrow
, the angel said,
if you like him, you could get his phone number, and set up a real date. If he's actually interested in you, he'd be willing to do that.

Yeah, and if you do that, you can spend another couple of months with no sex except your fingers and the dildo you keep in the nightstand,
the devil replied in my other ear. And f
or fuck's sake, you're on the pill, even though its been ages since you’ve seen any action
. Do
you remember how he felt? He's fucking ripped, and that cock you felt pressed against you honey......

I could hear the devil give a little cheer of victory, before whispering a final piece of advice.
Just keep Harpgirl over there quiet, and get his phone number too. If he's halfway as good as we think, you're going to want to call him up again.

My decision made, I focused back on Mark, who was giving me a perplexed look. "Sorry, just thinking," I said with a sheepish grin. "Okay, I'd love a ride home. You know where King Street and Graham Avenue meet?"

"Yes, there's a few apartments in that area. Not a great area, but I’ve seen worse.”

There was no condescension in his voice, just a simple statement of fact. It was actually kind of cool to hear it, a lot of guys gave me a look like I was a hood rat when they found out where I lived. "Vista Garden Apartments."

"All right. Let's go then."

When we left the VIP room, Mark slipped the attendant outside a folded up bill.

"Thanks for the service J," he said quietly, before leading me out. I felt a big boost to my ego when I saw Tabby and Kelly, both still playing with their boytoys, catch sight of us. Tabby did a double take before clapping and giving me a big thumbs up from across the club. "I see your friends approve."

I glanced over at Mark, who was grinning confidently and looking at me with a look in his eyes that bordered on cocky. He turned his grin to Tabby and returned the thumbs up, causing my bubbly friend to burst out in laughter. Over the loud club music I couldn't tell what she said to Kelly, but I trusted Tabs. She'd had my back for a long time. If I was leaving the club with a handsome guy, Tabby would be cheering me on.

Walking through the parking lot, I was surprised at first when I felt Mark take my hand as we walked. "I enjoyed our talk and our dance," Mark said. "I'd like to do it again some time."

Whoa. Was this blonde vision of masculinity really asking me out on a date? "I'd like that," I finally said. "Give me your phone number?"

"I've got a card in the car," he said, reaching into his pocket and thumbing his security tab. I was only partially surprised when an electric blue Mercedes responded.

"Wow, nice wheels. What is it?" I asked, looking at the gull-wing doors. "I've never seen a Mercedes like this."

"GT-S, all electric drive," Mark replied, opening the door and helping me into the low slung passenger seat. I know I gave him a very nice look at my legs getting in there, but I didn't mind at all. "I'm into being green."

And spending it
, I whispered to myself after he closed the door and came around, checking out the interior. All leather seats, a Bose sound system, and enough of those little touches that said this car was easily in the six figure price range. Whoever Mark was, he had money. I waited until he settled into the driver's seat before saying anything. "I have to say, it's an impressive car."

"Thanks. Cars are one of the only things I like to splurge on," he said, turning on the engine.

The ride back to my apartment was surreal. Other than the wind flowing over the vehicle, it's almost totally silent. "Wow, you could be a ninja in this thing," I commented when we were about halfway home. "I'd never hear you coming."

Mark nodded and I could hear him chuckling under his breath. "I enjoy it that way," he said. "What about you, what do you drive?"

I laughed and looked over at him. "You'd laugh if I told you."

"Oh, come on. You know if you don't, I'm going to spend five minutes in your parking lot guessing what it is until you tell me one way or another."

The North Side isn't exactly Hell's Kitchen New York, but it's not the sort of place a guy just hangs out in a Mercedes sports coupe. I didn't want Mark to have any problems, so I gave in. "Fine. I drive an old Honda Civic. I mean, the thing's so old they still have that old badge on the back, the one that looks like it says CVCC instead of Civic?"

"I know what you mean. I'm not afraid to note my first car was one of those too," Mark said. He glanced out of the side of his eyes at me and smirked. "What, you thought I was born with money? You get to know me well enough, you'll find all sorts of surprises."

The comment touched me. Maybe he wanted to see me again, and wasn't just giving me a line back in the parking lot.

T
he Vista Garden Apartments
weren't the worst apartments I'd ever been to. My work takes me to worse places sometimes, although I didn't exactly like hanging out in locales like this. I spotted Sophie's Civic almost immediately, and noted that it was parked in the slot for apartment 212. I filed it away, along with the fact that her car had a parking sticker for not only the local university, but the university hospital. Her story about being a student wasn't bullshit.

"I'm sorry that our dance got cut off," I told her after stopping the car. "I know it's a bit sudden, but are you busy Sunday night?"

"Yeah," she told me sadly. "I'm doing a night shift at the ER. But I'm free Tuesday."

"Tuesday it is. I'll pick you up here, seven o'clock Tuesday."

Being the gentleman I am, I went around and opened the door for her, helping her out of my Mercedes before pulling her in for a kiss. Her lips were just as soft as I had hoped, and her body molded itself nicely against me. She was a bit shy at first, but when my tongue probed at her lips, she opened herself willingly, until she was clutching against me. I was tempted to delay my work for the night, but knew that I couldn't. Instead, I broke our kiss regretfully, and looked into her eyes. "It was wonderful meeting you Sophie. Can I ask, what's your last name?"

"Sophie White," she said, biting her lip again in that unconscious sexy way she had. "What about you?"

"Mark Snow," I said, both of us chuckling at the similar nature of our last names. I didn't tell her that Snow was just one of five different aliases I use, although it is the one closest to my real name. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Sophie White."

I headed back to my car, before remembering that I promised Sophie my card. Reaching into the slot in between the cell phone holder and my stereo, I grabbed the slim metal case that I kept my cards in. I flipped it open and considered which of my different cards to hand her. Finally, for reasons I still don't fully understand, I handed her my professional card, the one that read "Mark Snow, troubleshooter," along with my cell phone number. I had never given it out to a regular person before.

"Here, just in case you thought I wasn't telling you the truth earlier," I joked, handing her my card. "Call me when you get off work tomorrow?"

Sophie's smile was worth the niggling little voice in my head that was telling me I should have given her one of my other aliases. As I drove away into the night, I only hoped my appointment in the North Side wouldn't take me too long.

I had bought my Mercedes not for the performance, although it was a great car, but, like Sophie said, for its ability to be totally silent when I wanted it to be. Driving slowly, I crept up until I was about two hundred yards away from my destination before I pulled over and waited. It's one of the advantages of an electric car, I can sit in idle mode in total silence, and very few people will notice me.

I have a very hard and fast rule in my line of work, one I've adopted personally. I always make sure the problem is present before I go in and do anything. Too many operators in my line of work just go in there regardless of the mess they make. I prefer to prevent future problems for me and my employers, and for that reason, I was highly sought after.

It took me almost thirty minutes to verify that the problem was there, and that I wouldn't be creating a scene or causing more mess by going in. Fine. I reached under the passenger seat of my car, and took out my tools.

Time to go to work.