Page 17 of Hotline
Opal
The buildingwhere he works is understated like him — bold lines with smooth accents. Sexy and restrained. A sleek metal sign bearing his name stretches above the entrance, catching the light.
Is this man for real?
The doorman greets me as though he’s been waiting all night for me to arrive.
I gasp as I step inside the lobby. This place is gorgeous. It’s refined yet powerful, just like Mr. Lennox himself.
The gleaming marble floors, the perfectly arranged floral displays, the silent precision of the staff — it all feels choreographed but effortless at the same time.
And it looks more like an airport terminal than an office building lobby. There’s a fancy coffee place, along with a smoothie shop. There are so many people, and they all seem to be heading to different destinations.
Beautiful women are taking videos of themselves on their phones, and guys even younger than me in sweatpants and flip-flops type furiously into laptops, completely oblivious to the world around them.
This is a class of people who want notoriety. The people who want to have their name and face out there, and the ones who are going to work hard to get it.
And even still, each person is cordoned off in their own little world.
We are in the midst of a loneliness epidemic, and even the hot and powerful Julian Lennox isn’t immune from it.
It reminds me why I’m here. He’s so hard-pressed to have a connection with someone, that he has to pay me to do it. The man with the most money, power, and influence in this city doesn’t want to meet a woman and settle down. He wants something he can fit into his schedule between racketball and happy hour, and have a steamy little release without having to go through everything that normally goes along with it.
I look over at the front desk and spot him striding past it, looking like the hot boss he is. The front-desk people perk up and smile when they see him. The women tuck their hair behind their ears and the guys adjust their ties. It’s clear that the men want to be him, and the women want to let him rearrange their DNA.
The buzz around me seems to melt away as he gets closer. The sea of people seems to freeze to let him through. He gives off the most unmistakable energy. He’s like a magnet — drawing you in, making it hard to look away — but he’s also untouchable.
Today he’s wearing something more buttoned-up and formal than yesterday. Charcoal gray suit, crisp white shirt, navy tie knotted just right, expression unreadable—except for the faint curl of a smirk when he sees me.
God help me.
He doesn’t break stride as he approaches; he just looks at me like I’m already his. Like I’ve been his since our first meeting.
And maybe I have.
“Ms. Harper,” he says, low and smooth like heat on bare skin. He stops when he’s a few feet away from me, looking me up and down in a way that is hot and heavy but not disrespectful at all. “Opal…you look…just absolutely incredible.”
He may not be looking at me disrespectfully, but my thoughts are anything but chaste. I can feel my arousal making its way past the impossibly tiny thong I’m wearing, and even though I’m hot all over and my limbs feel heavy, a chill runs through me and my nipples become hard. They might rip right through the expensive lace bra I’m wearing.
“Mr. Lennox,” I manage, tipping my head down, somehow keeping my voice steady even though I’m dying on the inside. “Thank you. This building is gorgeous. And your name on the front of it…it’s a nice touch. I like it.”
His voice goes deeper.
“Consider it a reminder of who you belong to.”
My body and soul seem to fuse together when I hear those words.
He starts to walk to the far wall of the lobby, where there’s a line of elevators with people streaming in and out. I almost have to sprint just to keep up with him. We bypass the elevators entirely, instead making a turn into a hallway with just a single elevator. It’s like a mini lobby, with its own front desk and a security guard, standing still and expressionless with his hands clasped in front of him and his jaw tight.
Mr. Lennox pulls out two keycards and hands one to me.
“Don’t lose this,” he says. “You and I are the only two people in the world who have one.”
He taps a panel on the wall and the elevator door opens immediately. Once we get inside, there are only two buttons — one for the lobby, and one for “The Lennox Group.”
“How are there only two floors in this building?” I say, my brow wrinkling.
“This is the express elevator to my offices on the top floor.” He gives me a quick, small smile as he dips his keycard into a slot. “This elevator will only stop there, and the lobby. You’re never to be alone with another man. You will use this elevator, and only this elevator.”
