Page 24 of Unraveling an Enigma
My presence in the office has been severely lacking the past month. My usually unyielding focus shifted from my business goals to a more personal endeavor. Isabelle worked during the days, and I'd typically work throughout the night, but my desire to spend time with Isabelle often had me leaving the office before my clubs even reached their full capacity. I have an illustrious, dedicated team working for me, so my businesses never lagged the past month, but even if they did, I valued my time with Isabelle enough that I would have taken a slight financial hit.
Lifting my stern gaze from the Mac Notebook in front of me, I meet Tina’s excessively fluttering eyelashes and broad grin. “Do you need something?” I ask with an edge of arrogance behind my voice.
I am not in the right mind frame to be dealing with Tina and her inexorable attempts to get herself back between my bed sheets. Tina in the bedroom was precisely how I had anticipated. Her look and personality match her bedroom antics to perfection: she was feisty and wild. With her small height and petite frame, she can bend more ways than an Olympic gymnast.
Before Isabelle, Tina was the first girl in a long time that could keep up with my intensity in the bedroom, but I pride myself on my cunning ability to read people, and what was relayed through Tina’s eyes was enough to have me running for the hills.
Before Isabelle arrived in the picture, I had no intentions of securing a long-term relationship. My goals were primarily dedicated to my empire. Isabelle changed my whole perspective on being in a relationship again. If I were smart, I should have walked away from Isabelle the instant she crashed into me at the airport.
Tina purses her overly-painted red lips high into the air. After crossing her legs in front of herself, making sure her denim shorts ride up high on her thigh, her infatuated eyes lift to stare into my tired ones. “Travis said there is an FBI agent here requesting to see you,” she informs me with annoyance smearing her snarly tone.
I'd be lying if I said my first thought didn’t go to Isabelle. It has only been three days since she was underneath me, but it feels like months. My sexual appetite has always been impressive, but with Isabelle, it was tenfold, reaching levels even I didn’t know existed.
“Did you want me to let her in, or tell her you’ve left for the day?” Tina queries with her overly-manicured brows shooting up high into her hairline.
Although no other words spill from Tina’s lips, her eyes beg me to request for Isabelle to leave. Even though Isabelle and I kept our relationship quiet the past month, Tina is very receptive, so she knew something was going on in my private life.
“Boss?” Tina queries, making me realize I failed to produce an answer to her question.
“Give me five minutes and then let her in,” I reply, my tone firm.
Tina huffs before sauntering toward the door. Even pissed, she swings her hips provocatively with every step she takes.
I lower the screen on my laptop and head for the bar in my office. I need something in my hands to distract them from touching Isabelle. When she is in my vicinity, my desire is the greatest.
I grind my back molars together when I discover my bottle of Teeling 30-Year-Old Single Malt Irish Whiskey is empty.
“Nick,” I mutter under my breath.
My little brother Nick, whom I love dearly, underestimates my desire for the smooth, calm taste of a whiskey sliding down my throat. I’d seen him at my bar earlier in the week, and I have no doubt he would have happily finished my three-thousand-dollar bottle of whiskey without seeking permission. He would have needed a stiff drink after dealing with that psychotic lady who accosted him in my nightclub earlier in the week.
“This office is a little more impressive than the last office I saw you in.”
My grip on the crystal decanter I’m holding firms so tightly, the glass nearly shatters. Lifting my narrowed eyes from the glass bar, I shift my gaze to the other side of the room.
An arrogant smirk stretches across my weary face. “I should have put two and two together,” I remark, moving away from the bar to stand behind my desk. “Corruption and the FBI generally go hand in hand.”
“I see your sense of humor hasn’t improved any.” Theresa’s tone is drenched with sarcasm.
My gaze floats over Theresa Veneto’s body before returning them to her hard-set face. Theresa’s outer-shell is undoubtedly attractive, but her rotten insides make her hideously ugly.
If you haven’t already worked this out yet, Theresa and I have met previously. Our meetings were commonly held in the bedroom of my apartment, orfuck padas Isabelle refers to it. Once I decided I was no longer riveted by our prearranged gatherings, I cut ties with Theresa. She didn’t take the news of my lack of interest too well.
Theresa is one of the many women I’ve come across the past five years who stage ostentatious ruses to coerce me into interacting with them. Although Theresa’s attempts were vigorous and undermining, they still weren’t intricate enough to get past my astuteness.Isabelle is the only one who has played me for a fool.
Theresa endeavors to conceal her excitement at my robust glance of her body, but the pink blemish that hues her cheeks and the unbridled desire of lust reflecting in her eyes fails to mask her deceit.
“Humor was never my strong point, but you already know that isn’t my finest quality.” Call me conceited, but I'm acutely aware that my strongest assets are displayed in the office and between the sheets.
The blemish on Theresa’s cheeks becomes even more paramount. “You still aren’t lacking in cockiness.”
When I take a step closer to her, her pupils dilate, and she swallows hard.
“You and I both know, if I wanted to fuck you on my desk right now, I could,” I inform her, my tone arrogant.
The throb in Theresa’s neck increases as her heavy-hooded gaze flicks between me and the desk I’m standing next to. Her tongue darts out to replenish her dry lips with moisture before her teeth nibble on her bottom lip.
“But we both know that isnevergoing to happen,” I snap angrily.
