The Venture Capitalist (6 page)

A girl her age likes jazz, rock, and classical? I might really need to date this girl. But who am I kidding? I don’t date in the normal sense of the word. I use women almost as an accessory. My submissive becomes my significant other in the media, and for a time, they accompany me to social functions, service me in bed, and ensures that my libido isn’t starved for attention.

A woman wearing enough make-up you’d think she owned stock in it leaves the register after ringing up a customer and saunters toward us. By the way she addresses Keisha, she’s management.

“Haven’t you gone to lunch yet? Jorge just called for you. Says he has a table at Giordano’s.”

Then she turns her attention to me, ramping up her billion-megawatt smile from braces Daddy’s money probably bought when she was an adolescent, and hair too blonde and dark at the root to be natural. I can tell by the way she’s looking at me, she’s about to pounce. Keisha tries to pawn me off on the barracuda.

“If there’s anything else you need, Mr. White, Ms. Campbell will be happy to help you.” There is a hint of reluctance in her voice, I’ll give it to her.

The phone rings and Emily holds up one finger. “Just a second, Mr. White, I’ll be right with you,” she says to me, and then before she dives for the phone to Keisha. “You. Go to lunch.”

“Is Jorge your boyfriend?” Suddenly, I feel like I might have wasted my time pursuing Ms. Beale. Why didn’t it occur to me that she could be attached? Was my ego so colossal, I couldn’t see that coming a mile away? A young woman as attractive as she is was bound to be in a relationship. I could kick myself. But wait. She seems befuddled by my question.

“No. He’s my cousin.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Not at the moment. Getting KSR up and running has been a priority. And it’s not like there’s been anyone intriguing enough for me to make the sacrifice.”

The barracuda seems to be winding up her call, so I need to take what might be the only opportunity I have to set up another meeting. “I might have been too hasty in my decision on Friday, Ms. Beale. Would you be interested in taking another meeting to negotiate terms that will be acceptable to us both? And there is that other matter I’d like to discuss, as well.”

Her eyes narrow and I can practically see her thoughts turning in that pretty little head.

“How about we meet Tuesday morning? Jada will be back in town, and her input would mean a more substantive discussion, business-wise.”

“You can’t meet tomorrow?”

“I have work here and at the studio.”

“How about Thursday or Friday night?”

“I close again Thursday night and Friday I have plans.” Her next statement demonstrates to me that she’s gotten her negotiation legs firmly under her now. “I have to give you fair warning. I’ll be discussing the business venture with Princess Danai as a possible investor.”

“This isn’t an unexpected turn of events, given the way our last meeting ended,” I say. Then I raise an eyebrow and throw the backhanded question she threw at me when we met before. “
You’re
not gay, are you, Ms. Beale?”

She laughs. No doubt remembering. Her laughter even arouses me. “No, Mr. White, I’m not.”

“One never knows…”

She seems to gather her thoughts before she says, “Thank you for reconsidering about the studio. If Jada had taken the meeting, I’m sure there would’ve been a different outcome the first time.”

Her gratitude is palpable. I know I was hard on her at the meeting, if for no other reason than to vett her for my own nefarious purposes. She seems pleased that I’ve reconsidered, despite another opportunity that has fallen into her lap.

She thinks this is the last she’ll see of me until Monday, but I know exactly where she’s going Friday night, and I’m going to be there if for no other reason than to pluck her from the competitive Darnelle’s clutches.

“Call me on Monday. We can agree on a time to meet then.” I give her one of the cards I keep in my wallet. “My card. You’ll need to call before six. My driver, Moses, is prompt. My cell number is also there if you miss me at the office.”

“Okay,” she says and turns to walk away.

“Oh, and Keisha?” I use her first name for the first time.

“Yeah?” She answers without hesitation.

“I’m not altogether sure we’d be discussing the project any further if Ms. Jameson had taken the first meeting with me.” I flash her my most winsome smile as her manager sidles up to me with dollar signs and lust in her eyes. Ms. Campbell has nothing I want, and I will dismiss her handily after making my purchases. The gorgeous brunette in the bright red suit has captured all of my imagination for now.

Fencing with my twin Nathan on Saturday morning does not have its usual result. He beats me easily, but he’s too competitive to believe that his skill alone produced this outcome.

“What’s with you today? Your lunges are all over the place, which is how you usually beat me.” Nate peels off his mask, and wipes the sweat from his brow with a sleeve.

I’d taken off my mask at the peak of my frustration, the moment he’d scored the winning point. I grab a pristine white towel from the cabinet which Mrs. Naven, my housekeeper, keeps well-stocked, and throw my brother one. He catches it as effortlessly as he does the basketballs lobbed at him when he’s doing what he does best with the Chicago Buffaloes.

“Even at my worse, you’ve been no Tim Morehouse today,” Nathan says after wiping his face and now his sopping wet hair with the towel.

“Then you should be pleased with this win.” I discard my towel in the bin and grab two waters out of the mini-fridge.

Nathan takes a swig from the bottle I hand him, and then leans back against the bar on his elbows. “If you know me at all brother, you know damn well I’m more competitive than that.”

I shrug and drink half the water in my own bottle. I was decidedly on edge. Keisha Beale has been on my mind a considerable part of most of my days since I’d shown up at her job a few days before. I’d called Nathan to fence with me during the week because I needed a way to take the edge off.

Darnelle would have gone into the Grotto with me if I’d asked, but she would not be particularly happy about doing that if she knew how serious I was about pursuing Keisha Beale. She’d made Keisha the prize in one of her competitions she’s so fond of having with me, so she was off the table until one of us won, definitively.

“Sorry to disappoint you by not whipping your ass as soundly as I usually do.”

“I’m not complaining. I just want to know where your head is at.”

I think about that for a moment. I wasn’t sure at all where my head was, because for the first time in a year, I’d targeted someone for my submissive who might be off-limits to me. That didn’t set well with me at all.

“I’m considering taking on a new submissive,” I say. “Without going into any detail, the process has been rather difficult this time.”

“How so?” Nathan asks.

“Darnelle’s got it into her head that she wants this woman, too, so I’m having to work harder than I’ve ever worked to acquire her, so to speak.”

“Is she gay?”

“No, she’s not, but you know Darnelle. She thinks she can turn anyone.”

Nathan grins. “I don’t know then, brother. You might lose out to the almighty tongue this time.”

I drain my water bottle as if I’m ignoring him, and then I snap him hard with my towel. He rushes me and we fall, tumbling on a convenient mat, wrestling until one of us cries “uncle” like we did when we were kids.

I put all thoughts of the winsome Ms. Beale out of my mind and concentrate on making my brother concede defeat.

CHAPTER FOUR

Darnelle aka Princess Danai scowls when she sees me headed toward her prime cordoned off VIP area at Wicked. I’m so heavily invested in this establishment, one might say I own it, so she shouldn’t be surprised to see me. She’s in full regalia, wearing the attire her fans are used to seeing her in, which I abhor. Especially the over-the-top mouthpiece, which I happen to know she hates also.

One of her hangers-on unlatches the velvet rope and allows me to enter her domain.

“You told me you were too busy to make my performance tonight.” As per usual, when I’m within hearing distance, she ditches the vernacular.  

I shrug. “I’m due a meeting with, Brent, so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.” Brent Atkins, the general manager, hopes to own the place outright in about five years, if he continues to stay in the black.

Darnelle narrows her eyes. “Or maybe you’re here because you know Keisha’s going to be here tonight.”

Nonchalantly, I take the seat next to her. What Darnelle doesn’t know is that I’ve already seen and talked to Ms. Beale since she shared her intention of pursuing her with me. I don’t show my hand, because it’s none of her damn business why I’m here. It’ll just make her try even harder to woo Keisha because she knows I want her. It wouldn’t be the first time Darnelle has done this. She loves the idea of competing with me for women, as if the very act of doing so will win back what she gave to me long before she understood why being with men didn’t do it for her.

I goad her, as I am prone to do. “Afraid she’ll pick the dick over the tongue?”

“Don’t knock the tongue. I know the female body better than any man.”

“Which may be true, but you can’t fill it like a man.”

“That’s what strap-ons are for.”

“Cheap imitation.”

“Asshat,” she hisses. Then retreats into people-watching, also known as ignoring me. This love-hate relationship we’ve had since grade school amuses me to no end, and I’m sure Darnelle gets her kicks out of it as well. We would each go to our deaths before admitting it, though.

Brent joins us after few minutes, and I grill him about the club, the financials specifically. Darnelle continues to ignore me, interacting freely with her entourage. Within a half-hour, I’m bored off my keister and I’m almost at the point of calling my weekend car service, when
she
strolls into the room.

My skin prickles when Ms. Beale enters VIP, which annoys me, because it usually takes months for me to be this in tune with a submissive, let alone a woman I haven’t even fucked yet. I pretend not to see her, because her skittishness has been proven by her avoidance of me for almost a week, my unannounced visit to her work notwithstanding. She is a vision in a figure-enhancing purple dress this time.

When a woman has assets like hers, not flaunting them would be downright sinful. Her hair is down in what seems to be her natural curl. I can’t wait for the chance to hold that mane while I take her from behind.
Shit. Where is she going?

Apparently, she’s seen me. Thankfully, Darnelle hasn’t seen Keisha, because she will call her over, and I’m not ready to approach her. Yet. If this goes as planned, Darnelle will make her move, then I’ll swoop in like Keisha’s knight in glittering armor, because this woman needs to be fucked. For my purposes, she needs to be flogged, cropped, bound and fucked, and not in that particular order. At this point, I’ll take it however, it comes.

I breathe easier when I see she’s found a seat at the bar. Now to make a brief exit until Darnelle scares the living shit out of her with her ham-handed seduction routine. I turn to Brent.