Page 18 of Cocky Prince
Adam
All is going accordingto plan. I hired an assistant faster than I thought I would, and the girl’s perfect—exactly as Paul and William indicated. A perfect ten for sure, but she’s also mercenary as hell. She grilled me on salary before I’d even offered her the position. She’s got to be good if she negotiates like that.
I rinse the pasta I started after I got home from work, and turn off the burner that’s heating the sauce. Most of the time, I grab takeout, but sometimes even that’s a pain in the ass. Over the years, I’ve taught myself to cook the basics. A particular skill my brothers, as self-sufficient as they claim to be, enjoy taking advantage of by stopping by unannounced around dinnertime.
I put out a place setting and crank upSportsCenter, preparing to dive into a mountain of pasta and sports highlights, when the doorbell rings.
Jesus, how do my brothers always know? Their sense of timing is uncanny.
I mute the TV and cross the great room to the front door. Only, it’s not one of my brothers.
“Are you Adam?” The woman standing on my porch is wearing heavy makeup and so many sparkles near her ears, breasts, and shoes that I’m momentarily blinded.
I glance at her friend—a brunette with a black choker and painted red lips. Both women are in mile-high heels and dresses that delve just below the sweet spot of their thighs. I’m pretty sure I could guess cup sizes as well, with the view I have.
“Sure, I’m Adam. What can I do for you?”
“Paul sent us.” Blondie rattles off Paul’s last name and description. “He told us to show you a good time tonight. Of course, if the cops ask, his name wasn’t Paul and he was a tall Viking-looking guy.” She grins in a kittenish manner and pulls out a velvet drawstring pouch. “He wanted me to give you this. Said you’d love it.”
I take the pouch and peer inside—at a sealed bag of white powder.
Fuck.Leave it to the jackasses I work with to send over prostitutes and cocaine.
I get it that Paul and William are happy I’m on board, but this is going above and beyond. In fact, it screams of some kind of test.
If this were a true celebration of my promotion, Paul and William would be here. This is something else. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but turning these girls away would be a bad move. Knowing Paul, he’ll take it as a personal insult. And if this is a test, I can’t fail. I need their confidence if I want bonuses that will cover the income I receive from the family fortune.
I grin and step aside. “Come on in, ladies. Make yourselves at home.” I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text message.
The women walk in, and they do make themselves at home. And I meanreallyat home. They take off their dresses and bare themselves down to sequined bras and G-strings.
I pour glasses of wine, discreetly checking the time. I keep my expression bland and friendly.
The brunette with the black choker walks over. I reach to hand her a glass, but instead of taking the wine, she palms me. A spark of life that can’t be helped occurs below. I’ve been celibate for I don’t know how long. Months?Too long.
My smile is confident. “Why don’t you have a seat at the table? You can join me for dinner.”
Blondie eyes the bulge in my pants from across the island. “I see my serving right here.”
“Me too,” says Choker Girl, inching closer.
“Ladies, what kind of gentleman would I be if I took you straight to bed?”
“A normal one.” Choker Girl giggles, which comes out warped, given she’s painted up like a naughty Elvira.
Checking my phone beneath the counter, I grab one of the plates of pasta. “Well, call me old-fashioned. Besides, you’ll need the energy.” I wink and hand the plate to Blondie before grabbing the other one and checking my cell again, even though I just did two seconds ago. I pass the food to Choker Girl, who’s sitting now.
This time, she reaches around and palms my ass. “Maybe we don’t want old-fashioned.”
I gotta give her props for assertiveness.
Holding the plate between us, I don’t budge. She pouts and finally takes it.
I move to my end of the table, and just as I drop into my seat, the door swings open. Well,burstsis more like it. My wayward youngest brother throws it open so hard it crashes into the opposite wall.
I sigh and shake my head. Hunt’s chest is rising and falling, his breaths heavy. By the disheveled look of his hair and half-tucked shirt, I’m guessing he didn’t waste time looking in the mirror before he headed over.
Hunt’s gaze homes in on the half-naked women at my table, and he fingers his hair back. “Well, hello there, ladies.”
