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“Really?”
“Really. I’ll send a car to your place and it will bring you to Club Z. Be ready in an hour.”
“Yes boss, no boss, anything you say boss.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
“You would.” She sounds annoyed but I just laugh.
“If we sign Whittaker, I’ll give you a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus, how does that sound?”
“Doesn’t sound like enough, but I guess I’ll accept.” The giddiness in her voice belies the fact that she doesn’t think it sounds like enough and I know I’ve got her.
“I’ll see you later.” I say and hang up. I need to stop teasing Skye and get my mind out of the gutter. Whittaker Matlock is a huge star. If I can sign him to the firm, I know more sports stars will follow. And with them, unimaginable riches. And I’m ready to take my net worth to the next level.
I look at my watch and tap my foot impatiently against the ground. Skye should have been here ten minutes ago. I'm starting to feel increasingly frustrated that she's late, and anxious about trying to sign Whittaker Matlock. He is the biggest star in the NHL, and I know that I have my work cut out for me.
I let out a small sigh of relief when I see the car pull up and stop outside the club. The driver jumps out, nods at me, and opens the back door. I step forward so that I can greet Skye.
The first thing I see is a long slender leg with a bright red fuck-me heel attached to it. My eyes travel up her beautiful legs and I watch as she gets out. She's wearing a short, tight, black dress, and her hair cascades down her back in ringlets. She's got more makeup on than I've ever seen before, and she looks absolutely stunning. I lick my dry lips as I swallow hard. My eyes are then immediately drawn to her breasts that are almost busting out of the very loose-fitting top.
"Hi," she says. "I have the paperwork." She holds up the folders in her hand. "Do you want it?"
"Sure." I say, taking it from her.
For a few moments, I'm almost speechless. I don't know what to say. I'm taken aback by how beautiful she looks, and my loins stir as I stare at her.
"Here you go, Kingston," she says, waving it in front of my face.
"I got it," I say, snatching it from her. "So you took your time."
"What do you mean I took my time? I had to log in and print the paperwork, and of course we were out of toner, and I had to..." She pauses. "Well, you don't want the full breakdown, I'm sure, but I'm here now."
"I'm glad," I say roughly. "Thanks, McCartney," I say to the driver. "I won't be needing you for the rest of the evening."
"You're welcome, Mr. Chase. Have a good evening. You too, Miss Skye."
"Thanks, McCartney." She beams at him.
He gets into the driver's seat and takes off and we just stare at each other.
"I could kind of get used to having a private driver." She gives me an impish smile. "And yes, that is a hint."
"Hint heard, but not received," I say, grinning at her. "You ready to make our entrance into the club?"
"I mean, I guess," she says. "That's why I'm here, right?"
She tilts her head to the side and I watch as one long curl bounces against the valley between her breasts.
"Sorry, what did you say?" I blink, distracted again.
"I said that I'm here for a particular reason, and I'm not even really sure why, other than to bring you this paperwork, which you probably could have gone to the office and printed yourself."
"You're here because Whittaker Matlock likes beautiful women, and I don't want to approach him by myself and obviously be seeking his business."
"So what, you want to pimp me out to him?"
"No." I chuckle. "We're here on a quasi-date."
