Page 4 of Dirty Little Secret, Baby
"I didn't ask for your life story," says the assistant, on whose small, golden name tag on her lapel is writtenDilaraand below it in small italics,PA to Mr. Rodgers.
"Can't you just ask your boss? Maybe the flowers are for a lover, an affair, I don't know. But I..."
"Enough. Please leave the property," Dilara says, pointing to the driveway. "Or I will..."
"Your nectar tastes like the gold of the bouquet. I want to taste you!" I read from the card, and this time, I'm the one cutting her off. Anger rises in me. Anger at this rich playboy hiding behind a PA with huge breasts whom he probably fucks often and...
"Wait a minute, Dilara. I'm coming," a voice sounds from the walkie-talkie she's holding.
"You've done it now. Mr. Rodgers heard everything. He's coming and will surely tell you what he thinks of you and your cheap card," Dilara snaps, holding up the walkie-talkie. "He actually has better things to do tonight than deal with common laborers," she adds disapprovingly.
If this Mr. Rodgers is as pompous as his PA, then he's going to get a piece of my mind. Even if I end up stuck with the costs for the order. I'm not going to just let myself be put down, even if everything inside me is screaming for me to just leave and I'm on the verge of bursting into tears. How can this woman be so mean?
A moment later, a man appears next to this Dilara. He's also wearing a name tag that identifies him as Alex Rodgers. I can't tear my eyes away from him at first. I don't know why, but I feel like my jaw is hanging open and I'm going hot and cold all over.
Pull yourself together, Beth. Remember what's written on the card! He's a playboy! A womanizer!
"So you're the man who's into nectar," I say to him and hand him the bouquet. I can feel my hands trembling and hope it's not noticeable.
"Cute. Persistent and sassy, too," he says, grinning at me. His words sound like a velvety promise that awakens something in me that would have been better off left asleep. What is wrong with me? He's a typical playboy. And I'm standing here with my knees weak?
"How can I help you, Miss..."
"Peterson," I croak, wondering where my voice has gone.
"A pleasure, Miss Peterson," he says, coming toward me and kissing my hand, which only makes my knees feel weaker.
"Mr. Rodgers, I must remind you that there are some important people waiting for you inside and..." Dilara interrupts the moment.
"Then go to them and put them off," Mr. Rodgers says, making a gesture with his hand without even glancing at her.
"I'll take care of this matter here," he says, his ice-blue eyes piercing through me. I feel a tingle on the back of my neck that I quickly push aside.
"So, Miss Peterson. You can call me Alex. What brings you to me, and who wrote the silly text on the card?" his voice suddenly sounds serious, his gaze still piercing, but in a dangerous way.
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 2
Alex
A little earlier
"You're running late, boss," my personal assistant, Dilara, greets me as she opens the front door, offering me a view of her ample cleavage.
"I know. The chopper wasn't ready to go, again. There's always something broken on that thing. Why do I even have it?" Annoyed, I wave her off, catching myself staring a little too long at her cleavage and wondering why I haven't slept with her yet, like most of her predecessors.
To hell with it. I'm not in the mood to think about it right now, because I'd actually wanted to make a grand entrance for this event. After all, this is my estate and I'm the host.
Now I'm sneaking in through the front door and no one, except my assistant and the security guard who was standing outside and gave me a silent nod, is taking the slightest notice.
"Let me pin on your name tag, sir," Dilara says, placing her left hand on my chest and fumbling with the golden tag on my lapel with the other.
"As if I need it," I grumble, but I let her do it, my gaze wandering.
There's only one word for what I see: Boring!
Whose idea was it anyway that rich people want to waste their time at charity galas? Don't any of these people have friends?
