The VIP Room (15 page)

Suddenly, he pulled away and I cried out in frustration. Tristan’s warm hands grabbed my waist and he swiftly turned me around to face him. My eyes connected with his. His pupils were dilated; the green of his irises were bright with wanting and desire.

A slow, pleased smile curved onto my features and he watched me as though in a daze. There was a look on his face, as though I’d ensnared him, like I’d put him under a witch’s spell like in the stories my mother used to tell me. It made me feel powerful,
alive
.

Grasping my left thigh, he wrapped my leg around his lean hips and reentered my tight sheath. I moaned at the feel of him and then laughed breathlessly because it felt
so right
.

He started pumping into me. My lids slid shut, my breaths were rapid and uneven as flames of pleasure unfurled within my belly.

“I wanna watch as you come.” His rough, almost slurred voice reached my ears, ragged and husky. “Look at me when you come.”

My eyes immediately flashed open at his command, seeking his. The quick slide of him between my legs was my undoing. Every delicious thrust wound me up tighter…and tighter…and tighter…

When I came, it felt like the threads of my soul were being ripped apart. My stomach muscles clenched as the pleasure crested. I hung breathlessly on the very edge, feeling heat between my thighs as Tristan continued to thrust powerfully, before I toppled over into oblivion. I couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. The pleasure was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

But I kept his eyes throughout. His beautiful, piercing eyes.

Clarity returned when I heard Tristan’s sharp groans and rough curses. “I can feel you coming, Noelle,” he grated, bringing his head towards the hollow of my neck, his breath hot on my skin. “
Damn
, you feel so amazing.” He hilted one last time and stayed imbedded between my thighs before he followed me in pleasure. “Oh fuck,” he groaned. I felt his body tense until he went completely still and then his harsh gasps and soft moans reached my ears.

A moment later, Tristan leaned into me fully, panting and spent.

Pleased, sated, and warm, I smiled to myself, quickly realizing that I could become addicted to this…to Tristan.

“
T
hanks
, sweetheart,” Tristan said in a cool voice, finally retreating from my body. His tone struck me as odd, wiping away the relaxed, almost floating feeling I’d experienced a moment earlier. No, something was wrong.

He stepped away and I stumbled a bit, unprepared for the lack of support and my wobbly knees. Cold air swept my overheated skin as I watched him in confusion, trying to gauge the sudden change in him.

Tristan’s chest glistened with sweat and his cheeks were flushed, hair mussed. He was sex, personified.

I remembered my own state of undress and crossed my arms over my bare breasts, watching as he zipped up his slacks and buttoned them. A ball of dread started to form in my stomach as the lust-induced haze slowly started to dissipate. Tristan wouldn’t meet my eyes and my own nakedness made me feel vulnerable, a sharp contrast from how I felt only moments before.

The silence was maddening. When Tristan finally met my gaze, I offered him a timid smile even as I absorbed his blank expression.

“You should go,” he said, running a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at me. “I’ll get a driver to take you wherever you want.”

With that he turned his back to me, walking over to a sleek phone system mounted on the wall across from the elevator.

I’d expected the words. No, that’s not right…I expected this feeling of dismay and utter embarrassment the moment he’d pulled away from me. But to hear him say those words, to kick me out so easily and efficiently, made me feel like a cheap whore. Used. Discarded. I felt dirty. I wanted to scrub myself raw in the shower until I returned to who I was comfortable with.

It was at this moment that I realized I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do the one-night stand thing. I wasn’t one of those confident, flirty women who partied until the early hours of morning and took her pick of willing men to go home with. I was the girl who always liked a steady boyfriend for a reason. Even Ryan had never made me feel so unwanted.

I heard Tristan’s voice, talking to someone on the other end of the phone. “Martin, have a car waiting downstairs in a few minutes…yes. Thank you.”

In a daze, I stepped over to my dress, which lay in a heap a few feet away…only to trip and fall down when I realized my panties were still tangled around my ankles. Pain flared as my kneecaps collided with the hard marble floor and I cried out, trying to catch my fall with my hands.

I heard Tristan curse and his footsteps hurried over to me. “Are you alright?” he asked urgently. I felt his warm palms on my bare shoulders, ready to hall me up.

“Don’t,” I bit out, unable to meet his eyes. “Just
don’t
. I’m fine.”

My face was probably bright red. I was on the verge of tears. I felt pathetic, a naked mess on the penthouse floor of a man who wanted to kick me out. I just wanted to leave. I wanted to get dressed, high tail it out of here with as much dignity as possible, and
never
see this man again.

Frustration made me kick off my panties. But because tonight was the most humiliating night I’d ever experienced, they got caught in the straps of my heels. I was all too aware of Tristan watching, his hand hovering somewhere near my shoulder. After struggling for a brief moment, I finally tugged off the heels. Relief swept up the soles of my feet after hours of forced pain.

I struggled to my feet, shying away from Tristan’s hand when he reached to help me up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him run a hand through his thick hair.

“Go sit down,” he ordered, bending down to grab my dress off the floor. “I’ll get you ice for your knees.”

I tugged the material from his hands, using it to shield my nakedness, even as my throat tightened in mortification. “No. I’m fine.” Even though my voice was quiet, it didn’t waver. “Turn around please. I’d like to get dressed.”

I didn’t care if he’d touched my body intimately only a few moments before. I wanted to dress in privacy, even if it was a false sense of privacy.

Breathing an inward sigh of relief when he turned around to face the elevator, I quickly donned my bra and panties, followed quickly by the dress. It was difficult to zip up by myself, but I managed since there was no way in hell I’d ever ask Tristan. I decided against putting my heels back on. At this point, I no longer cared. I was exhausted. All I wanted was to go curl up at home, where I had a tub of ice cream in the fridge, so I could lick my wounds in private.

I snuck a glance at Tristan’s turned back. He seemed taller now that I’d slipped out of my heels, more intimidating. He was still shirtless and I found myself admiring the strong muscles lining his back with a strange mixture of regret and disgust.

How could someone so beautiful be so…so…

Dropping my gaze, I realized I was in no position to point fingers. I told him all I wanted was one night. That’s what he gave me. I’d just envisioned a different outcome. Minus the humiliation, of course.

After reaching down to snag my discarded clutch off the floor, I peeked down at my knees and saw that they were bright red. I inwardly groaned. Walking through the lobby of the building would not be fun. I looked like I’d been on my knees all night.

You’ll never see these people again, Noelle. It’s okay
, I reminded myself.
You’ll wake up tomorrow morning fresh and forget all about tonight.

With that thought, after smoothing my hair away from my face, I padded across the marble floor to the elevator, slipping past Tristan. With my back to him, I pressed the down arrow. The doors automatically slid open and I moved to step inside.

“Wait,” he murmured, catching my wrist. I hated the jolt of electricity that went through me when all I should’ve felt was fury. “Let me at least take you home.”

Why the sudden change in heart? A moment ago, he couldn’t wait to get me out the door. Did he feel bad for me? Pity me?

My spine straightened and I cast him a glance over my shoulder, pulling my arm out of his grip. His green eyes burned into mine, no less mesmerizing than they were before. I couldn’t read him. And I certainly didn’t want anything from him, especially his pity.

“I believe you called a driver to take care of that.” I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. Carefully keeping my face blank, I nodded at him. I wished I could come up with something flippant to say to show that he hadn’t really hurt me. But nothing came to mind. Plus, he really
had
hurt me. Instead, I settled for, “Goodbye.”

The doors slid shut. It was only then that tears stung my eyes.
Keep it together. At least until you get home
, I told myself.

Once I was in the lobby, I ignored the stares. I kept my head held high and my eyes dry. The doorman held open the glass doors as I exited and I gave him a small, albeit shaky smile.

I ignored the black car with the driver standing next to it. In my bare feet, I padded past him on the cold cement.

“Wait, Miss!” The driver called. “I’m supposed to take you home.”

“You’ve got the wrong person,” I returned over my shoulder as I dug through my clutch for my phone, trying to keep a decent grip on my heels. There was no way I was getting in that car. I wouldn’t accept anything from Tristan. I would pay for my own ride home.

Once I walked down far enough so that the extravagant building was out of sight, I called a cab. In the five minutes that it took to reach me, I read over the plethora of texts Larene sent me.

Get it, girrrrllllll.

How’s it going? ;)

He looked like he could give a girl a good time. Tell me everything!!!

I want a play-by-play too. None of that ‘it was good’ stuff. I want DETAILS! Dirty details!

Sighing, I slipped my phone back into my purse. I didn’t have the energy to respond to the texts now. No doubt, she’d be hammering down my door in the morning. Thank goodness it was only Saturday night. I had a day before work on Monday to recuperate from this awful, humiliating night.

The cab arrived. After telling the driver my address, I leaned my head back against the worn leather, which smelled vaguely like stale cigarette smoke. Luckily, it was dark enough inside so that the driver wouldn’t see me crying.

I just hoped I’d never have to see Tristan again.

B
right
and early on Monday morning, I strolled into my office in a pencil skirt, a royal blue chiffon blouse, and my sensible non-stripper heels. I had a nine o’clock meeting with Annie, the owner of the interior design firm I worked for. Despite my aversion to early mornings, I’d never once been late to a meeting.

Sunday had crawled by at a snail’s pace, probably due to the fact that I’d moped around my house all day. Once I phoned Larene and regaled her with the fresh humiliation of Saturday night, she’d brought over a huge slab of chocolate cake from my favorite bakery in town and we drank red wine and watched 30 Rock until Tina Fey made me forget all about Tristan.

It was a fresh start to a new week. I almost breathed a sigh of relief. Saturday night now seemed like a bad nightmare, not a memory, and I was thankful for that. If only Larene would stop bringing it up. She’d drilled me about every little detail yesterday and together, we’d analyzed every word he said to me.

“But what kind of tone did he use?” she had asked, sitting on my couch munching on popcorn. “And when he said it, what was his body language like? Were his arms at his sides or crossed?”

This morning, I’d woken up to a text from her asking me if I was alright and whether or not she should go track this guy down so she could “bust him up.” I simply replied that I was fine. The sooner she forgot about it, the quicker I could move on and not relive the moment in my mind, both the amazing sex and afterwards. Because even though Tristan was a grade-A asshole, he had worked my body better than any of my past boyfriends and brought me more pleasure than I’d ever experienced. I got shivers just thinking about that world-shattering orgasm.

But, inevitably, that train of thought ended with his cold words echoing in my mind—“thanks sweetheart” and “you should go”—and I’d go back to denying that the night ever happened.

With a sigh, I took a sip of my steaming thermos of coffee I brought from home, while I scanned my desk. I was still finishing up Mr. and Mrs. Evian’s new home. I’d already rendered my designs, received the couple’s approval, and ordered the majority of the furniture. I was still, however, searching for more accessories that would please Mrs. Evian’s more traditional tastes.

My office phone rang. Glancing at it, I saw Annie’s extension number and hit the speaker button, setting my thermos down.

“Good morning, Annie,” I chirped, my voice more alive than I felt. “How was your weekend?”

“A little chaotic, actually,” was my boss’ tired response with a heavy sigh. “David’s sister visited for a couple days. And well, you know how we don’t get along very well. She has all those diet restrictions. And then there was this debacle over her comforter set. She claimed there was dog fur and it was making her sneeze all night. Psh, we don’t even own a dog.” A frustrated, feminine grunt on the other end. “But she left yesterday afternoon, so David and I had a lovely dinner together. Not a completely wasted weekend.”

I smiled. Annie was a character. Although, I’d discovered that a few days in when I’d interned for her my senior year of college. And since I was now officially one of her designers, an incredibly sought-after position that I counted myself extremely lucky to have, I was all too familiar with her personality.

I glanced at the simple black clock I’d hung on the left wall of my office. It was only 8:30. “Are we still meeting at nine?” I inquired with a small frown, glancing at my calendar. I was sure I’d gotten the time right.

“I was hoping you could come now. I just got off the phone with a new client and it’s
big
news!”

“Of course. I’ll be right in,” I said, a little burst of excitement jolting through my stomach. Annie rarely got animated about new clients, which meant that this client must be a big one. And big clients meant a higher commission for the designers.

A few moments later, I knocked on Annie’s office door before pushing my way inside. My boss sat behind her expansive antique white desk like the queen she was. Cat eye tortoise shell glasses were perched on her slim nose and her lips were painted a bright red, her signature color. Her light blonde hair was done up in a neat, high bun, expertly pinned so not a single strand of hair was out of place. Appearance was everything to Annie. It was what made her something of a celebrity in the interior design world. She owned one of the best design firms in the city.

“Hello, darling. Take a seat,” Annie greeted once I shut the office door behind me. I remembered when I first interviewed with her for my internship, in this very office actually. I’d been completely intimidated by her beauty and success that I’d stuttered my way through the interview, but she saw something in me and in my designs and had agreed to mentor me. That had been almost four years ago now. I liked to think I’d come a long way.

I sat down in one of the vibrant teal plush chairs in front of her desk, my notebook and pen at the ready.

Her blue eyes shimmered as she smiled at me. “I just got off the phone with a representative for Blackwell Financial. They just moved into a brand spankin’ new building downtown and they want us to design the lobby space and all the offices for the higher executives and mid-level employees.”

“Blackwell Financial? As in the Blackwell
family
?” I asked, eyes wide.

“The one and only!” Annie’s excitement was contagious. “
And
, I want to bring you in on it. I’ll be heading the project, but I want this to be a collaborative effort between the two of us.”

Stunned, I stared at Annie, unsure if I’d heard right. “Me?”

She grinned. “Unless, of course, you don’t want it.”

“No! I mean yes,” I said immediately, my mind reeling. I laughed, wondering how this could be real. “I’d be crazy
not
to take it.”

This meant the world. Not only was Annie giving me a chance to prove myself at a higher level with raised stakes, but she was letting me take on a
huge
client. This was what I had been waiting for. I was confident in my designs, in my work. This was my golden opportunity to prove I could play in the big leagues.

Determination made me sit up straighter. “I won’t let you down, Annie.”

“I figured you’d say that,” Annie said knowingly. “So, let’s talk numbers. It’s hard to say price-wise what I’ll be charging before the consultation, but if we’re going off square feet alone, it’s going to be around an $850,000 project.”

My heart stopped at the price and then started hammering double time.
$850,000
. If I got my usual commission of 15%, I’d make close to $125,000 off this project alone! My head spun. Hell, the
room
spun.

Golden opportunity, indeed.

I cleared my suddenly dry throat and did a quick calculation in my notebook, my hand shaking. “So, it’s about 55,000 square feet of space.”

“That’s a ballpark number the representative gave me. And that’s only the amount of space we’ll be in charge of. The building is massive, apparently.”

I nodded as though on auto-pilot. When I eventually got back to my office, I would shut the door, jump around, and dance like a crazy person just to release some of this excited energy welling up inside me. I was still having difficulty wrapping my head around the past few moments.

“We have a very tight deadline for this one. One month. It needs to be completely finished by the first of November. So, be prepared. We’ll learn more at our consultation this afternoon. Be ready to leave at 1.”

“Of course,” I said. I stood, smoothing out my skirt. “Thank you, Annie. You don’t know what this means to me.”

“You deserve it, darling. Just don’t let me down.”

“Never.”

No matter what, I’d pour everything I had into the next month. It would be stressful and utterly crazy, but it would be well worth it.

I would rock this project so hard, Blackwell Financial wouldn’t know what hit ‘em.