Page 7 of Dirty Little Secrets
Let’s see what this root vegetable has to offer.
When I’m six feet away from the table, his head snaps in the direction of my attention-commanding heels. I knew these babies would be popular tonight. The two older men he was sitting with are nowhere to be seen. Oh, he wanted a private chat, I see. A victorious smirk clips the corner of his lip as I strut toward him.
He thinks he’s won. He thinksI’mthe fly.
Silly boy.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to accept my invitation,” he rasps, straightening his posture as I approach the head of the table. He motions beside him. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“How presumptuous,” I coo. “Perhaps I only cameover to inform you that I’m not interested.” I bat my lash extensions. “Not everything is for sale, you know?”
He grins, letting out a husky chuckle. “Is that what you’ve been told?” He leans over the table, voice dipping to a gritty whisper. “Everyone’s got their price, mami.” He lifts a brow. “What was yours?”
“Let’s see…” I keep my scheming gaze locked with his as I fish the check out of my bra, purposely revealing a little too much skin. His pupils widen with arousal. Simple creatures, the rich. Sighing, I unfold the check and place it on the table, rotating it in his direction. “Well?”
He reaches out, faintly running his fingers along the amount, and it’s like I can feel his touch on my spine.
“Hmm…” He flashes me a cunning smile once he looks up and cocks his head. “It’s a shame, really.”
I shrug. “You can rip it up.”
“It’s a shame,” he slides the check back in my direction, “that you undervalue yourself so.”
I snort. Not very ladylike, but he’s got to be fucking with me. “I beg your pardon?”
He moves down a couple of inches, and like an unwilling magnet, I find myself sitting down next to him.
“Is that what you think you’re worth…?” He waits for my name.
“Luna,” I say, defensively keeping my distance from him.
“That’s not your name.” He gives me a knowing look. “For a million dollars, don’t you think I have the right to know what your parents call you?”
“See?” I chuckle, shaking my head. “This is the problem with you people, you bleed arrogance.” I nod to the check. “This buys you my time, not my story.”
“Perhaps we switch the one to a two, hmm?” He pulls out a pen from the inside of his black suit jacket. “What does that get me?”
“I’m not interested in your money, Mr. Cavanaugh,” I state, lowering his hand. He’s really putting on a performance. The effort is admirable. “I just came out here to meet the man who's stupid enough to offer a blank check to a potentially desperate woman.”
He narrows his speculative eyes. “You know who I am.” I tap the name on the top of the check. He frowns. “Right…”
“Plus,” I lean over, whispering into his ear, my lips barely grazing his lobe, “you were on the front page ofThe Wildtoday.” I stick my tongue out, licking the soft flesh. “They used a rather flattering photograph.” He swallows. I hear it but continue, “So flattering, I might’ve even…” I find his rigid hand and guide it under the table, placing it on the inside of my thigh. He grunts, and I release a soft giggle. “What’s wrong, mister? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“Who are you?” he asks through gritted teeth as I pull away. Frustration oozes through his poreless skin, and I find great pleasure in his pain. “Your name. Tell me your name.”
“Guess.”
“Pardon?” His demeanor hardens. Cute.
“Guess. I’ll give you three chances to guess my name.” I flip the white hair of my wig off my shoulder. “What do I look like to you? Jessica, maybe? Perhaps, a Sarah? Ooooh, maybe an Anne?”
He glowers at me. “I’m not someone you want to play games with.”
I pout. “Why not, mister? Worried you’ll lose?” I click my tongue. “Every king eventually falls, you know?” Biting my lip, I tilt my head. “Maybe it’s your turn.”
He stiffens. “I’ve fallen before, MissLush. I don’t intend to fall again.”
“Is that so?” I quirk a brow, intrigued by the mystery of the man. “Sounds like you’ve got quite a story yourself.” My voice lowers. “Wouldyousellyourstory?”
