Page 70 of Corporate Escapades

In the meantime, he needed to focus. He had a huge client coming in on Friday, and there were a lot of details he needed to iron out beforehand. The event was a surprise fiftieth wedding anniversary for the client’s parents. He’d requested Vic specifically. The party would bring in one of the largest paydays of the year. He needed to locate and price out a horse-drawn carriage, pink peonies, a string quartet, and numerous other items on the list, which was so large they had broken the planning into two separate sessions. He’d start with the carriage and work his way up to the cake samples. Nothing he hadn’t done hundreds of times before. Unlike Paris, he was now dealing with a full load of clients. It was thrilling to be back in the game.

Tuesday, Vic and Paris took ownership of their new cars. Mya and Chase had taken care of all the details. Paris chose a dark blue Lexus, fully loaded with sunroof, and Vic chose a silver fully loaded convertible Camaro. They drove off the lots and continued to go their separate ways. Mya with Paris and Chase with Vic. Neither Paris nor Vic had spoken a word to one another since Monday morning.

Vic's meticulous party planning had finished by Thursday afternoon, with the help of Chase. He felt he had earned a reason to relax and celebrate. As he left work, he saw Paris headed in his direction, so he picked up his pace to stay ahead of her. Anytimehe saw her coming, he’d veer off into an office, or a separate hallway, or take the stairs to avoid another heated moment. All he wanted to do was get home so he could begin working on the meal he planned to serve Angela.

He prepared a simple menu. Cheeseburgers on his grill, with homemade garlic French fries. If the girl didn’t like the food, she had no business being with him, was his motto. As an appetizer, he chose to serve bacon-wrapped goat cheese stuffed dates, which he’d heard were her favorite.

One of Vic’s many charms was his professional cooking skills. Had he not joined up with Sense of Adventure, he could have been head chef at any of the group's restaurants, something he often toyed with in the back of his mind, even more so as of late.

Sometimes he dreamt of achieving a Michelin star. He’d trained at Le Cordon Bleu with some of the best chefs in the world. Now, most evenings, when he arrived home, he didn’t feel like cooking. His love for cooking seemed to have died along with Brody until recently. His first inkling that the love was still alive was when the group had gone to the cabin, and he’d cooked most of their meals.

Angela arrived at seven, and Vic greeted her and showed her to the kitchen where he was removing the perfectly timed dates from the oven. He poured her a glass of pinot noir and said, “A toast to you showing up this evening.”

She laughed. “But I thought you knew I’d show?”

“I assumed, but you know how that can sometimes go.” He chuckled at his own comment.

They noshed on dates and sipped their wine while he cooked. She laughed at his jokes and complimented him in any way she could. She was an attentive guest who interacted well in the moment. He noted she was wearing the tightest, lowest-cut blue blouse he’d ever seen, along with a short flowing floral skirt andblue stilettos. She looked tastier than the food, but he pushed the thought aside for the time being.

After dinner, they retired with replenished wine glasses to the living room and took a seat on his couch. “The food was divine,” complimented Angela. “Why don’t you cook regularly? What made you take on the job at Sense of Adventure?”

“For many years, I thought I’d be a chef, but after shadowing my parents, I felt a new desire to join the family business. Vacation and party planning looked like fun, and it turned out I was right, even though I miss cooking at times.”

“I can see the enjoyment you experience when you cook. Would you ever go back?”

“I don’t know. Right now, no, but in the future, who can say?” Reaching out, he brushed her long blonde hair back and looked at her creamy alabaster skin. “You have beautiful eyes. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen eyes so blue-green before.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “You’re not so bad yourself. You should think about going back to cooking,” she prodded. Then, reaching up, she undid the top button of her blouse, exposing her flesh further and giving him a view of her bright pink bra. He sucked in his breath and held it for a moment. He couldn’t look away. As he watched, she undid yet another button and continued until her shirt hung open in front of him. He said nothing as he continued to gaze at her. Standing, she slid out of her skirt to reveal matching pink panties. Turning in a circle, she asked, “What do you think?”

Standing, he looked down at her and said, “I think tonight might be my lucky night.” Taking a step toward her, he ripped off his shirt.

Angela grinned. “I think you might be right,” she said, then reaching for him, she

unbuttoned his pants.

His passion for her grew with each touch. Pressing his lips to hers, he grabbed her hand,

leading her down the hall to his bedroom.Paris who?he thought as he closed the door behind them.

The following morning came with a jolt. Vic flew out of bed with the internal realization that something was not right. Angela was gone, his alarm turned off. It was eight-fifteen, and he was late meeting his client. His stomach soured at the realization. Had he turned the alarm off himself? He bolted to the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash water on his face, then returning to the bedroom, he threw on his best suit and rushed out of the apartment. As he was walking into Sense of Adventure, his phone rang.

“Where the hell are you?” demanded his father. “Why aren’t you here? This is important, Vic! And where’s Paris? I wanted to send her in, but she’s not here either.”

“I’m so sorry, pops, I don’t know what happened. Somehow, my alarm got turned off. I’m on my way.”

“Don’t bother!” he boomed. “I told the client you were ill and sent your mother in to deal with it.” Vic’s heart sank. He knew this incident would come back to bite him. Thinking better of going into the office while the client was still there, he went back to his building and marched over to Paris’s condo. He knocked, but there was no answer. Trying the door, he found it to be unlocked. Pushing it open, he instantly regretted his decision. Tom had Paris bent over the settee, giving it to her hard. Vic gaped at them.

Paris, realizing Vic was in the room, pushed Tom away and grabbed the nearest throw blanket to cover herself. “What are you doing? Get out!” she screamed. Vic backed himself out of the condo and slammed the door, stopping to lean against the wall while he forced himself to breathe. Before he could get away, Paris threw open the door and marched into the hallway.

“What are you doing? Why are you here, uninvited?”

“You’re one to talk! I seem to recall you slipping into my apartment to steal my date's very expensive shoes out of the room we were screwing in. That was on purpose. This was an accident. Two different things, I’d say!” Vic cringed. He didn’t want to rehash the situation with her. “I came over to tell you I screwed up, but we can discuss that later. I have to be somewhere,” he said in a more controlled voice. Paris stood there staring at him. “You should get back in there, and for God's sake, put some clothes on!”

“What do you mean you screwed up?” asked Paris.

Vic shook his head and walked away.

“What do you mean?” she asked again, but he didn’t answer. His words hurt more than Paris cared to admit. The knowledge that he’d seen her and Tom going at it, also hurt.

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