Page 51 of Corporate Escapades

Paris poured the shot and slid it his way. In one smooth move, he snatched it up and dumped it down his throat. “Ahh, tasty,” he replied. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes, Truth or Dare?”

She was appalled that he didn’t answer the question and frustrated because she wanted to know if he actually had paid for sex, which meant he was even more despicable than she’d first anticipated. “Truth.” She watched as he ran through the possibilities in his mind. She was terrified of the things he might come up with. She knew her first question was very personal, but it was something she and Mya had always wondered.

“Have you ever kissed a woman, and if yes, why?” he inquired slyly.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. She didn’t care if he knew. “It was Mya. We were twenty-one, and we were at a party together. There was this creepy guy following me around, and I wanted him to leave me alone, so Mya and I pretended we werea couple. The kiss was her idea, being into drama and all. She figured it would prove to him that he had no chance.”

“Wow, did it work? Did he leave you alone?”

“Yes. He said he could tell we were really into each other, and he apologized for harassing me.”

“You know,” he replied, “that could have gone the opposite way.”

“Oh, believe me, I know. I told her the same thing, but she said to trust her, and that she had a hunch he’d be put off by it. Luckily, she was right. Truth or Dare?” she asked.

“Dare,” he replied.

Laughing at him, she said, “I dare you to drink another shot.”

“I’m not sure you’re very good at this game.” he replied as he grabbed the bottle, pouring himself another shot. “Bottoms up!” he slammed the shot glass down on the table. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Okay, Paris,” he said, scooting a little closer, “why do you hate me?”

Instead of answering right away, Paris poured herself another shot and drank it down.

“That bad?” he asked.

She shook her head at him. “No. I don’t hate you. You have no idea what it takes for me to admit that.”

He looked at her with concern. “What is it then? Why is it so hard for you to admit you don’t hate me?”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t like the way you act. You don’t have any genuine relationships outside of your brother, Breanna, and your parents. You’re angry and short with most of the people you work with. For once, I would like to see you show some real kindness and compassion toward your coworkers, like you used to. When was the last time you actually rewarded someone for hard work?”

Vic looked at her for a moment, taking in what she was saying. This was not the first time he’d heard this. “You know, you aren’t always the most personable either.”

“True, but I don’t fire people for ridiculous reasons. I’m not the one with a fearful nickname.”

“Nickname?” he asked. “What nickname?”

Paris’s jaw dropped. Did he really not know? “Most of the staff call you Diablo. It’s been going on for over a year now.” She shrugged. “I really thought you knew.”

“Wow. That’s cold,” he sighed. “Do you know what they call you?” He watched as her eyes got big.

“No, what?” she demanded.

“I don’t know.” He laughed. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“You’re so funny. Ha, ha, ha. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” he said loosely. The alcohol was definitely taking effect. He wasn’t much for shots. Normally he was more into sipping.

“Do you have a thing for Angela Martini?” she asked.

“You have to admit, she’s pretty freakin' hot.”

“I certainly do not need to admit that,” replied Paris. “She’s my boss at the moment. I think she’s utterly vile and quite possibly trying to seduce you for no good reason. Also, she dresses like a cheap hooker.”

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