Page 2 of Wrong Place, Wright Time
Banks
“I'll likely be gone a few hours,” I say, checking my watch. “So, I might not get a chance to return before we close.”
The bar manager nods. “Not a problem. I can handle anything that comes up. I think it's good that you're getting out yourself for a change,” he says as he lifts a tray of glasses and adds it to the cooling system embedded in the bar. Everything tastes better in an ice-cold glass. “Now, quit hovering and go already. I’m sure your friends are waiting.”
“I get it. I’m a workaholic. But I’m going now. Call me if you need anything.”
“I won’t,” he calls out as I move out from behind the bar and make my way to the front ofBanked Up,the upscale bar I’ve put my blood, sweat and tears into. Years ago, when I bought this place, the guys I worked with on Wall Street thought I was absolutely insane. But I'd had enough of the cutthroat trading game by the time I was thirty and was more than ready to get out of it. I sunk everything I had into setting up and launching this bar, and while it was a gamble, I'm glad I took that risk. Almost a decade later,Banked Upis still the place to be for young professionals. And I couldn't be happier.
Taking a moment to greet a few regulars on my way out the door, I can't wipe the smile off my face because even though I love my work and rarely take time away, I'm looking forward to going somewhere different tonight. It's been a solid year since I've had the chance to go and see one of my cousin, Darren’s, drag shows. From what I hear, he's been going from strength to strength and has landed himself a steady emceeing gig atQueen’s Delightin Midtown East. I'm keen to see how much his character, Coco Monroe, and her show has grown. But despite my familial reasons for going out tonight there's also a personal reason. And her name is Isla.
Tall, beautiful, curvy,bustyIsla.
I wanted her the moment I saw her. And I'm not the kind of man who refrains from going after what he wants. It's how I have always lived my life and it’s what made me the man I am today. I'm not about to stop being me just because the woman I want is one of Wright Media’s protégées with the power to tear down everything I hold dear with one well-targeted smear campaign. To me, the risk might be there should things go awry, but the reward in bedding such a powerful woman and seeing her vulnerable side is far greater in my opinion, and it makes me only want her more.
Not that who she is matters since the first thing I noticed was how my body reacted to her. And then I noticed the way she flirted with me. There was something familiar about that long dark hair and bright smile, but it wasn't until I was properly introduced that I realized she was IslaWright, the youngest daughter of Paul Wright. Paul is one of three siblings who are well past their prime and sit at the helm ofWright Media Corporationwith their children working one level down with a view to take over when the ancient ones—the term I like to use for old men who don’t know when to retire—either die at their desk or step down over some scandal. Although, so far, the older Wright generation seem bullet proof. Even a public court battle between the oldest son and father didn’t seem to rattle any cages. The Wrights are unstoppable. And I think the older generation will be running things for a long while yet.
Why do I know all these things as a bar owner, you ask? Well, my cousin’s fiancé is Tanner Wright’s brother-in-law—the son who forced his father to admit his wrongdoing and fully pay for his disabled sister’s care—so, I have a smaller degree of separation to this powerful family than most, meaning I’ve googled them, fallen down a rabbit hole learning how insidious their media monopoly really is, and continued watching for any further rebellions from the next generation of Wrights as it becomes clearer and clearer that they may never get the chance to take over. It also means that not only do I find Isla Wright beautiful, I also find her intriguing since she’s the only female in the generation to come.What will her role be when the old men leave? Does she think they ever will? Are they considering a hostile takeover?
“Banks! Come and have a drink with us,” my buddy, Ronan—a venture capitalist—calls out as I pass. Indicating that he’s surrounded by a bunch of Wall St guys. Some of them I know from my time there.
“I’m just on my way out. But I’ll catch up next time, OK?” I say over my shoulder as I make a break for the door and breathe a sigh of relief. Ronan has been my closest friend since middle school, and I have all the time in the world for him. But the Wall St guys? Them, I can pass on. There’s a certain kind of arrogance to men who have more money than they’ll ever know what to do with, and you can only handle them in small doses—I should know since I used to be one of them.
The moment I step onto the sidewalk to find freedom, a town car pulls up in front of me and none other than Isla Wright steps out from the back seat. I pause and smile, sliding my hands into my pockets as I watch the driver help her to her feet then drive away after she hands him a tip. I'm not sure she's even seen me yet, because she looks up at the neon sign forBanked Up, smiles to herself then takes a deep breath and starts to walk in. I grin at the sight.Yeah, I’m looking forward to seeing you again too.
“Isla,” I say before she gets to the door, startling her. Her hand flies to her chest as her chocolate brown eyes find mine.
“Banks! I didn’t see you there. Hi.” Her heels click on the pavement as she moves toward me, her skirt hugging her shapely thighs. “Are we meeting the others out here?”
I frown. “We’re meant to be meeting them atQueens Delight.”
“Oh God. I was so sure we said here. Lucky I ran into you then. It would have been embarrassing sitting inside alone all night waiting.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t have been alone for long,” I say, leaning in slightly. “A beautiful woman like you must be beating them off with a stick.” She releases a hollow laugh and steps back.
“I can assure you that I haven't beatenanybodyoff for a long time,” she says, sending my brows sky high before her eyes go wide, and her hand goes to her plum-colored mouth. “Oh my God. Please don't read into that. I just meant that I don’t really date.” That makes two of us. The older I get, it seems the less I have patience for anything lacking in substance. But from everything I know about Isla Wright so far, substance seems to be her defining quality. I must know her.
“Tell you what. I promise not to hold it against you. If you promise to come and have a drink with me before we go.”
“I think I can handle a promise like that,” she says. “But do we have the time? I don't want to be rude and walk in halfway through the show.”
Glancing at my watch, I shake my head. “We won't be late. We've got a good hour before the show starts. So, I think that gives us plenty of time for a pre-game drink.” I look into her eyes as she bites the inside of her lip in consideration. “Plus, it’ll give us some time to get to know each other since we’re the only two in the group who don’t have a preexisting friendship.”
“Are you trying to be my friend, Banks?” she says with a teasing smile. My dick goes hard.
“Highly probable. Either that, or I’m just trying to talk you into my bed.”
She laughs. “You’re honest.”
“It’s the only way to be. So, about that drink.”
Tucking her clutch purse under her arm, she moves toward me. “OK. Let's do it.”
I gesture to a small door beside the bar. “Then let me take you somewhere quiet. I think tonight is about to get very noisy.”
She follows me without pause. “Lead the way.”
Isla
