Page 12 of Brassy Bigwig

I look to Genevieve to weigh her response before I answer. I can still use a drink, but only if she wants one, too.

“That sounds wonderful,” she states.

She appears relieved, and I wonder if she needs a drink to help her relax as much as I do. As Bianca and Dex turn toward the bar, I place my hand on the small of Genevieve’s back and guide her across the lobby. I can feel her skin heat through the thin, lacy material, and it reminds me of the way my skin and lips burned when I kissed her hand at the pool earlier.

I need my lips on her skin again.

I’ve known she was attracted to me since the first day we saw one another, but to be able to feel even a little bit of her emotion toward me is intoxicating. As we enter the bar area, I maneuver Genevieve in front of me and use the opportunity to adjust my cock. It’s stiff and pushing against the waistband of my boxer briefs, trying like hell to overpower my conscious thought and dictate how this evening will play out.

As much as I want to let him take over, as much as I want this fiery hot sex kitten in my bed tonight, I need to keep it together. I don’t think I will be able to caveman Genevieve into my bed. She’s classy. She deserves better, more gentlemanly wooing.

“Kalispera.” Good evening.

As we’re greeted, I watch as the bartender's eyes fall on Genevieve’s cleavage, taking in her attire. I can see the wanting gleam in his stare, and while I can’t blame him, it makes me want to tear his head off.

“What can I get for you this evening?”

“Another strawberry daiquiri?” I ask, turning to Genevieve.

My hand is settled on the middle of her back, and I can’t help but run my thumb up and down along her spine. If she’s bothered by my touch, she isn’t showing it.

“Actually, I’d love a vodka soda with a lemon, please,” she requests.

“In addition to that, we’ll have two McCallan’s and a Merlot, please.”

As the bartender busies himself making our drinks, both Dex and I pull out a stool for each of the girls to sit on. I notice Genevieve mirror Bianca’s posture as they sit, facing one another. I catch sight of something black and silky between her legs as she crosses one over the other. I didn’t mean to look, but…

Who am I trying to kid? Maybe I’m more okay with this dress than I’d thought. Easy access is never a problem.

Before I can think of something to talk about, Bianca starts in on her questioning.

“So, Genevieve, what brings you to Mykonos?”

“I just finished grad school, and I’m starting a new job on Monday. So my best friend convinced me to get away for the week before jumping back into the real world.”

“Smart girl,” Bianca answers. “What will you be doing?”

I shoot Bianca a knowing look from my spot next to Genevieve’s stool. She needs to stop with the career questions. The reason I don’t tell girls my real name is because I don’t want them finding out who I am and how much I’m worth. I don’t know Genevieve yet, and while I may want to fuck her, it doesn’t mean she’s stable enough not to try and trap me into something if she knows too much about my business.

“An office assistant. Nothing too glamorous. I’m just starting out and haven’t made it quite yet.”

As much as hearing the term “assistant” puts a bitter taste in my mouth, I don’t like the idea of her thinking of herself as less than anyone else.

“You shouldn’t be so modest. Good assistants are oftentimes the cement that holds the castle together, so to speak.” I wink at her, and the way she smiles and bites on her lower lip nearly kills me. “Everyone needs to start somewhere.”

The fire that erupts in my gaze as I’m reminded of Kendra—my previous dirty, lying, blackmailing, whore of an assistant—forces me to look away from Genevieve, even when it’s difficult taking my eyes off of her.

I drift to Bianca and Dex; they know why. They know what the bitterness in my stare looks like whenever I’m reminded of her. And they’re the ones who picked me up after she swept through my life like a hurricane. One look at them is all I need to dispel these unwanted emotions. This isn’t the time or the place. I swallow it all down. She’s out of my life for good. Genevieve is here now, and I don’t want her to think the violence in my gaze was meant for her.

“Here we are.”

The bartender’s timing is impeccable, as he puts our drinks down just before the silence has a chance to stretch to the point of being awkward.

“Can I get you anything else at the moment?” he inquires.

“Just the check? You can charge this round to room forty-seven eighty-nine.”

“Yes, sir,” he nods before returning to the register to print the room charge receipt for me to sign.

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