Lag (The Boys of RDA Book 2) (11 page)

Trey snorts his derision. “Finn’s not like that. He forced half a billion on me. I would have taken much less. Now that everything’s settled, we've focused on designing new games and selling them to larger players.

“Finn doesn’t want to deal with all the issues that come with a popular game. I used to disagree, but recently I’m starting to see his point. After so many years in that shitty apartment and working non-stop, it’s nice to have some personal time.”

“You get half a billion, and with that kind of payout, you buy a two seater Mazda Miata first?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Trey laughs with me. “Besides, I thought you liked Apple.”

His use of my name for the car makes me giggle and shrug my shoulders in his direction.

“I also bought this place and paid off both of my parents’ houses as well.” Trey stops to open a dark blue door to our right.

I step back to admire his home. It’s built right next to the houses on either side of it, which appears to be a common element at least in this neighborhood. I scan the houses down the street and notice they are all the same without any space between the nonmatching home designs. Trey’s place has a garage door next to the area we stand now, so you could pull a car in from the street. The dark blue color and large window jutting out from the front set his home apart from the rest. It’s larger than his neighbors’ and gives the building a modern and new age look with the reflective mirrored surfaces.

“You didn’t help out any of your siblings?” I ask as we walk through his garage and up a staircase into the main house. If I came into five hundred million, Elena would be at my doorstep asking for keys to the Porsche before the ink was dry.

Trey stops to open another door at the top of the staircase and walks in before me. “I’m an only child. Finn too, which is probably why we clicked so well. We both needed that brother connection.”

He leaves the pizza box on the breakfast bar area and I’m left to take in the view as Trey walks through the kitchen and begins opening cupboards. The space is larger than it looked from the outside. Somehow even the window looks bigger from this angle. Light wood grain hardwood floors make the space feel cavernous. I have to suppress the urge to see if I can echo my voice off the tall ceilings.

“Drink?” Trey’s question brings my attention back to him.

“Whatever you have.” I walk to where he’s placed a plate with a napkin and fork waiting for me on the white marble countertop.

He pours me a glass, but the door from the refrigerator hides what it is. “Enough about me. I’ve already met Elena, but tell me more about what you left behind in New York.”

Trey slides the glass full of dark liquid he poured for me across the counter before he scoops up two pieces of pizza and sits beside me on a tall stool.

“I told you all of it on vacation. I’ve been working for a promotion like this since I started. I didn’t expect to move to California to get it, but I couldn't pass up the chance.” I take a cautious sip of my drink and am pleasantly surprised it’s pop.

“What’s Elena do when you two aren’t lying on the beach?" he questions when the conversation lulls.

As much as she annoys, me I’m so proud of my little sister and won’t pass up the chance to praise her to someone else. I’d never do it to her face. "She’s at home with my parents in Buffalo right now working on her final year of college getting an education degree. She wants to teach in an inner city school. Her plan was to come live with me in New York, but I’m not sure what she’ll do now.”

“You two sound close. I bet they miss having you at home.”

I finish chewing the big bite of food I’d taken before I answer. “I didn’t get home as much as I should have even in New York, but I think my parents are ready for us to be out of the house. They’re both travelers and have planned some big trips once Elena is on her own.”

“Are you planning to go home for the holidays?”

“I don’t know, but my old boss, Jay, has already said he’s coming to visit me this spring. He keeps emailing me links to all the places he says we have to visit."

I laugh as I remember the last email from Jay where he demanded I take him to Alcatraz so he could see a ghost. I eye rolled him until I read the attached article, which did made the place sound a little spooky.

“Jay, huh? Yes, I’d like to meet this Jay as well.” Trey isn’t laughing with me. The possessive side I’m starting to pick out in him is in full view again.

“Yes, and if I’m lucky he’ll bring his girlfriend, Stacy, because she’s one of my closest friends in New York.”

He smiles and shakes his head knowing I’m on to him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The dishes clank together as Trey throws my plate on top of his in the sink.

I stand from my stool and wander to his large window in the living room. “I love your place.”

“Thanks, the view’s better upstairs, but I think inviting you to my bedroom might be a bit presumptuous at this point in the night.”

I giggle snort from nerves in the most unladylike way imaginable.
Get a grip, Simone.

Trey crosses the area in the living room decreasing the distance between us. He throws his hands in the air, palms out. “I promise, no bedroom antics.”

For a split second I consider asking him to describe these antics, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

Trey prowls to his black leather sofa, his movements fluid like a large cat stalking its prey. I turn to keep an eye on him like you’re supposed to do when faced with a predator.

He takes a seat in the middle of the sofa and turns his head in my direction with a small smile. “Unless you’d like to find out what I’d do to you on my bed.”

I shake my head at his attempt and turn back to stare out his window as people walk by.

“You come off as a strong woman, Simone, but every once and a while I see the look in your eye.”

“Yeah? What kind of look is that?” I question.

Trey leans back against the couch. “The kind that makes me think you’d like to hand over a little control every once and a while.”

Not sure if he’s serious. I maintain my position by the window staring at him rather than the view and remain silent.

“Can we test it out?” His hand slips over the top of his thigh and smooths the material down to his knee.

I track the movement and nod my agreement. The conversation switched within a blink of my eye, but my body thrills from excitement with his words.

“Good,” he spreads his legs farther apart before tapping on them twice, “come sit on my lap, Simone.”

Huh? My body wants to follow his order and it jerks when I force it to not move. From the smile that spreads across his face, Trey understands my reaction.

“Just try it,” he coaxes from his spot on the couch.

With slow steps I cross from the window and stand between his legs.

“Sit.”

I start to debate exactly what he means. How should I sit? To the side of him with my legs thrown over? On the other side of the couch? I muster all my courage, take a deep breath, admit that isn’t what Trey wants, and then slide my body over his, straddling him with a leg on each side.

Our height difference is minimal in this position, and our heads almost line up. “See that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Trey asks as his mouth lowers to mine before I answer.

His mouth fits over my lips in a passionate kiss like those we shared a month ago. It doesn’t take long before I’m lost to him and our desire for one another again. The room falls away from me and the only thing that matters is Trey.

His hands rest on my thighs, and I wish I had worn a dress today rather than these wide-leg black pants I’m in now. His touch on my bare skin is the one thing I miss most from our time on vacation. His hands move up my legs as his mouth opens, asking to be let in.

The hard press of his body against mine as our tongues duel causes me to forget where his hands went. My skin tingles as they begin to slide up my back underneath the thicker blouse I wore to work today. I push back forcing him to tighten his grip on my over sensitive skin.

Trey lifts my shirt higher and higher as his hands continue up my back. Our faces part and he drags his thumb across my lower lip while we stare at one another with ragged breaths. I’m nervous and my body is still tense because of it. I stand at a crossroads of wanting to speed things up and slow them down at the same time.

“God. I missed this. I missed you, Simone.”

I smile at the compliment and relax a little. “Me too.”

Trey’s head lowers until he buries it in the curve of my neck. His tongue draws the line from my ear to my collarbone and then lower. As he lifts my shirt up the last few inches, my black lacy bra is bared to the room and he sucks in a breath. He drags his teeth lightly over one breast while my body shakes with the contact. I’m vibrating as his head moves to the middle of my chest and he opens my front-clasp bra with his mouth in some kind of superman move.

Three consecutive dings from the other side of the open space stop both our movements. Trey leans his head back from my chest allowing both parts of my bra to fall open. His eyes take in the two pebbled peaks in front of him before he leans forward again, ready to ignore our interruption.

Another three beeps stop him and I stiffen as I realize where the noise is from. I unwrap my arm from around Trey’s neck and move to stand, but he stops me with two big powerful hands on my back.

“It’s my phone,” I whisper to him.

“Don’t you dare answer your phone, Simone,” Trey whispers back, but with more authority.

“It’s my boss. He’s an ass. I have to answer.” I scramble off his lap and he lets me go. He threw my large bag onto the floor inside his door when we walked in, and I race there to answer the call.

I hate to admit that while the timing on this phone call is horrible, it isn’t unexpected. I thought my boss, Roger, was a jerk the first week, but he’s focused on guaranteeing it this week. He’s called or emailed me to question every decision I’ve made since I stepped foot in the office. Which when you consider I’m still working on getting to know my clients, I haven’t done more than make copies, phone calls, or meet for lunch dates. The largest transaction I’ve put through our system was approval for a $400 vet bill.

I ruffle through the bag and take a deep breath before answering. “Simone speaking.”

The bull terrier begins to rattle off questions about my lunch meeting today with a new client. It’s all information he could have gathered from me at the office, or better yet read the email I sent him with the outline. No, the asshole decides he needs to call and ask me tonight. Right now.

I stand with the phone in my hand as Trey falls back on the couch and sighs loudly. He stares up at the ceiling in defeat and his head turns to mine while I plead with my eyes that he’ll understand. He jerks his head in a move to call me back to him. I don’t need the distraction of Trey, but I can’t refuse. As I reach him he stands. Both hands fit underneath my arms and he pulls my bra back together clasping it again with slower movements than he used to take it off. He sighs again then sweeps his hands down my shirt to work out the wrinkles.

“You need to come back and get these taken care of tonight, Simone. I don’t know how you did it in New York, but here employees don’t leave until paperwork is done."

“Wh… what?” I sputter after catching some of what he’s said. Wrapped up in Trey again, I missed his earlier complaints.

His voice rises a few octaves. “You need to come in and finish approving the loan documents for the Low family. They need to present financing tomorrow morning when they meet with builders.”

There wasn’t any documentation for me to sign when I left today. I met with the Low family for lunch this week and no one mentioned paperwork. Still, my pride won’t let me admit I may have made a mistake to my boss, so I agree to meet him in the office within the hour.

Trey listens to my end of the conversation. He looks resigned to what I’m going to say before I have the call turned off.

“I have to go back to work.” I shrug when I say it so as not give away how upset I am.

“I heard.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Roger pulls his little red convertible into the half circle driveway in front of the white exterior of The Flood Mansion and we pause in the line of cars to wait our turn with the valet. So far he hasn’t spewed comments about my attire so I'm hoping tonight’s dress meets his standards. It’s still a little black dress, but the satin material falls to the floor and the fabric shimmers in the light — more of an iridescent black. The fabric swoops at the top across the shoulders and gives the entire piece a fancier feel over what I wore to our last event.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks from the driver’s seat.

The house is an actual mansion, not just in name. The long white building looks to be made from marble or some other stark white material. Details around the windows and roof match the formal entryway with its detailed columns and simple yet still grand front steps.

“I didn’t realize San Francisco had this type of architecture. I thought it was all Queen Anne.”

“The Flood Mansion is an Italian Renaissance design. You’ll find all kinds of homes in the area.” In a moment of non-assholeness, the bull terrier and I share a polite conversation while waiting for the valet stationed in front of the home. “I’m glad you were able to pull this outfit together in such short notice. I was worried we’d have a repeat of last week.”