Page 63 of Gluttony

She swallows down everything I give her, going so far as to scrape up the escaped bits and sucking them down also, seductively popping her fingers from her mouth.

The desk begins vibrating and I sigh heavily to see who’s calling because I am actually waiting for an important call from my legal team, but it’s not my cell that’s ringing, it’s Bowie’s.

“You should get that.” I pick it up and hold it out for her and she frowns a little, but that quickly turns to confusion when she looks at the caller ID.

“Okay?”

I know it’s weird to make her answer the phone while we’re in the midst of whatever the fuck this is, and I can easily sense her trepidation and curiosity, but I just wink and stand as she shuffles backward. I head for my office closet, pulling out a fresh pair of trousers for myself and a white button-down shirt for Bowie. She may have removed the cum from her clothes, but they’re marked. That and I kinda wanna see her in one of my shirts.

She’ll have to stay in here for the last half an hour of this working day so that none of the office staff suspects anything, but I can deal with that.

Bowie’s sitting in her chair now, holding her head in one hand and her cell to her ear with the other.

I get dressed, then sit and put my shoes back on, because this clearly is not the time for me to fuck her.

“But I don’t understand…how?” She’s shaking her head, disbelief written all over her face with the way her brows are pushed together. “Okay…Yeah…Thank you. Goodbye.”

Still shaking her head, she hangs up the phone before pausing all movement when her eyes reach mine.

“I…My…shit. I really need to talk to you all about some things.”

Some things? Is she going to come clean? I wasn’t expecting that…or, hang on, no, of course she isn’t. Whatever she has to say will, no doubt, be another lie, and this is probably where the whole con comes together for her. I’ll have to be on alert.

Straightening my spine, I raise my brows and assess her body language. It’s open, no longer the closed off mess she tried so hard to hide previously.

She still confuses the fuck out of me, but I’m ready to see what she wants to do.

“Oh, Diamond. It’s about time.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bowie

This cannot be happening, what the actual fuck?

Rushing out of Hayes’s office like I’m a criminal on the run, I ignore the confused looks on Crosby’s face. There are about four different things I need to process from whatever it is that happened in there this past hour. With the tension between us on high alert and chemistry flying off the charts, it was a matter of time before we gave in to our lust for each other. The dry humping orgasm, however, I was not expecting. Not to mention the spots of cum riddled on my suit.

But that’s not the issue right now.

“Come on, come on, come on.” Mickey’s number keeps going to voicemail every time I press on the green call button. I’m not surprised that he’s ignoring me, in fact, I was expecting it for the first few calls. But on the sixth or seventh or tenth call? No. He can’t do this to me.

Seriously, he cannot just sell a condo that we both paid for without even giving me a courtesy call, can he? The thought that he would take the money from the sale and leave me high and dry crosses my mind but then…that was the realtor. Theyneed my signature for the new buyer, that has to mean that I’m getting half, right?

I should have asked more questions, been more alert, but between the sweet victory of tasting Hayes’s cock in his office and the phone call telling me we’ve got a bid on a condo I didn’t know we were selling, I’m a little frazzled.

When I reach my desk and glance up at the clock on the wall, I realize our normal work hours are almost over, which means one if not all three of the CEOs will be coming for me.

“Oh, Diamond. It’s about time.”

What did Hayes mean by that? The logical guess would be that he knows—and if one knows, they all know—that I’ve been less than honest about my intentions. Have they figured out the con situation?

No way. The last two weeks, I’ve had free rein of their apartment and I can’t imagine they’d give me that much freedom if they suspected the gravity of my intentions.

Leaning against the desk, the weight of my shoulders forces me to slump down, a heavy sigh escaping my chest. I’m so fucked. The worst part is that ever since the beat down, my only agenda has been to learn about this business so I can find a job somewhere as an agent.

I could go to Nashville or Los Angeles. Hell, Miami has a great music scene, too. Not Detroit, it’s too fucking cold up there.

With my mind whirring, I flinch when I get a buzzing in my hand.

---