Page 32 of Damaged Mogul

---

I straighten. “I have to go.” My voice is gruff.

The lust that was coloring her pretty eyes a moment ago, dissipates.

I curse myself, but stay the course. “Have a good day tomorrow. I’ll text you late afternoon so we can make plans for tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up.”

A resigned smile plays on her luscious lips. “Okay.”

I ignore the disappointment in her eyes and voice.

It’s in her best interests and mine.

“Good night, Lily.”

With an audible inhale, she squares her shoulders, as though gathering herself. “Good night, Gage.”

I get the hell out of there before I hoist her over my shoulder––fireman style––kick open the door to her hotel suite, fling her sinful body on the bed, and have my way with her all night long.

I hustle toward the elevator and press the button in rapid succession.

In an effort to breathe again, I loosen my tie. It doesn’t help. I’m still struggling for air.

How the fuck did I end up here?

Chapter 11

Gage

Instead of heading back to my place, I ask my chauffeur to drop me off at the Quintus Hotel. My home is stocked with some of the finest top-shelf selections, but sometimes a guy needs to sit at a bar and drink his worries away.

Since I was on bodyguard duty earlier, I kept it to one Manhattan.

As I drain my third drink in one gulp, the buzz of alcohol hits.

I lift my empty tumbler to catch the bartender’s attention.

“More Macallan, please.”

The bartender hesitates for a beat, but nods.

In no time, he’s back.

I thank him and polish off half of the amber liquid. “Don’t go too far, I’ll need another one soon.”

He cocks an eyebrow.

“What? This is a bar. I’m supposed to drink.”

His eyes are glued on me.

“Stop staring me down. I’m not getting behind the wheel. I have a driver.”

A few patrons glance my way.

I glare at them.

Mind your own business.

I return my focus to the bartender. “And I have the good sense not to mix drinks. Top-shelf whiskey all the way, baby.”

---