Page 40 of Damaged Mogul
I do this song and dance another ten times.
I grumble, frustrated with myself.
The brazen courage coursing through me earlier is fizzing faster than day-old champagne left in a flute.
“Just do it.”
Lily: I’m looking forward to tomorrow night. And it’s not only because of the birthday party and the chance to meet your friends. Hanging out with you tonight was fun, and I wouldn’t mind a repeat. Sweet dreams, Gage.
You’ll be the star feature of mine.
It’s a subtle invitation. I hope it doesn’t end up causing him to retreat further in his cave. I can’t handle the silent treatment two evenings in a row.
With my heart beating in my throat, and the post-orgasm buzz fueling me, I press the send button before I can change my mind.
There goes nothing.
My phone rings, making me yelp.
Oh my God, is he calling?
Panicked, I check my screen.
Disappointment prickles at me for a nanosecond.
It’s not Gage, but it’s one of my favorite people. With a huge smile splitting my face, I accept the video call. “Nads!”
“Salut toi—” My best friend’s greeting is cut short, and her brown eyes grow wide. “What’s going on in Los Angeles?”
“Huh?”
“Why are you accepting a video call naked?”
“Oh, shit.”
Chapter 13
Gage
Two bottles of Perrier and several trips to the bathroom later, it’s unlikely there’s a trace of alcohol left in my system. To play it safe, I asked my driver to stop by Tonics + Elixirs. It’s the go-to stop to score much-needed liquid medicine food for late-night partiers. Their well-crafted hangover smoothies are godsend lifesavers.
I allowed the girl manning the counter to come up with a concoction to ensure I wake up tomorrow ready to take on the day. It was a complicated mix. With the amount of seaweed juice she poured in there, I’m lucky it didn’t taste––and smell––like sewage.
My driver leaves me at my door.
I enter my home, disable the alarm, and turn on the lights, dimming them low.
From the lofty living room, the heels of my shoes click hard on the granite floors as I head to the back of my gated home.
I enter my bedroom, remove my tie and suit jacket, and place them on the chair situated in the corner, near the floor to ceiling window.
I trail to the bathroom, but freeze.
I should charge my phone.
I walk to my jacket to retrieve it from my pocket. I’m about to ignore the text notification that pops on my screen, when I read the name of the sender. My curiosity wins over.
I unlock my phone and read the message.
