Page 24 of His Little Secret in Discretion
At the tone of his voice, my stomach flipped. My legs kicked like a schoolgirl under the bench, hair falling across my cheek as I tilted my head without meaning to. “Sleeping, Mr. Porter. Why?”
“I need to close a deal. Invited the man signing the contract out for a drink. Come with me.”
I scoffed. “And I thought you told me to stay away from the clubs?”
“Only if I’m not there.”
My brows shot up. “Getting a bit territorial, are we now?”
“You know I am, Sunshine,” he replied, that sensual voice curling around me, turning my face crimson.“Let me see you tonight, hmm?”
A curse slipped from me under my breath as I pushed my hair back, desperate to hide the heat climbing my skin. I ignored the way my thighs pressed together at his effective persuasion. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight.”
Stepping out of my flat, purse in hand, I pulled the door shut behind me. Blaine leaned against the wall opposite, eyes tracking every inch of me as I approached.
“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” he muttered.
I spun lightly, showing off the simple but sexy club dress paired with my favorite heels. When I faced him again, his eyes were darker, heavier, devouring.
“You have no clue how much I want to say fuck the contract, fuck the account… just so I can wrap my hand in your hair and fuckyou,” he groaned, voice rough with restraint.
I stayed silent, watching the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Confidence surged through me as I stepped in, slowly pressing him back against the wall. My palm rested against his abs, feeling the heat through his shirt, while his hand slid to my waist.
Walking my fingers up his torso, I curled my hand around his jaw and tilted his head down toward mine. My heels gave me enough height to meet his eyes, close enough to feel his labored breaths brush my lips.
“Mmm. I’ll take that as a compliment,” I whispered. His gaze flicked to my mouth, then back to my eyes, hunger sharp in the look.
I let go and turned, swaying my hips deliberately as I strode toward the elevator. Glancing over my shoulder, I smiled. “We should get going, Mr. Porter. Don’t want to be late.”
Behind me, I heard him exhale sharply before muttering under his breath,“Yes, Mommy… fuck.”
I rolled my eyes at his antics, but couldn’t hide my smile when his hand settled on my lower back, steady and possessive. He held the door of the complex for me, and together we crossed to his car.
Once inside, I buckled in and turned to him, tilting my head. “And what exactly is my role tonight, Mr. Porter?”
His hand found my thigh, thumb stroking idly as his lips curled into a smirk. “Be good eye candy for your sugar daddy.”
I arched a brow, impressed despite myself. “Clever choice of words.”
He only shrugged. “You know I have to keep you guessing, Sunshine.” He winked, and I giggled as he pulled away from the curb.
Spending time with Blaine made me feel… alive. Fun. Spontaneous. Utterly chaotic. For a few hours, my problems faded. The past didn’t matter. All that mattered was the moment.
Looking at him, you’d never guess this man… this infuriatingly attractive, hilarious, arrogant charmer (his words, not mine) was a billionaire. A man with the world in the palm of his hand. It still baffled me how much attention he gave me. But I wasn’t complaining.
Eventually, we reached the club. He stepped out first, tossing the valet his keys before circling around to open my door. I thanked him softly and took his hand as I stepped out. Immediately, I noticed the shadows of his bodyguards trailing us as we headed inside.
The club swallowed us in velvet darkness. The air was thick with perfume, liquor, and sweat—sharp, sweet, and suffocating. Laughter rang out from the bar. Ice clinked. Glasses slammed. Everything was loud, lush, overwhelming. It smelled like wealth—powerful, excessive, and impossible to ignore.
With his palm resting firmly against the small of my back, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Familiarity. I forced away the darker thoughts, the memories of how this environment used to cage me, and fixed my focus on Blaine guiding me through the crowd toward the secluded VIP section.
As we neared, he leaned in. “His name is Maxwell Vanderbilt. Rich, pompous asshole. And ironically, the name fits.”
“Why is he so important?” I asked, scanning the man lounging ahead, women draped across him, champagne flowing.
“Long story short, his family owns an oil rig. His father passed the business down, but the idiot doesn’t know a thing aboutrunning it. He’s bleeding money on one of the most profitable assets in the world. He refuses to sell because his ego won’t let him admit he’s failing. He’s a big boy living off Daddy’s fortune. Tonight, I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
“He owns an oil rig?” My voice trembled. “H-How are you going to make him an offer he can’t refuse?”
