Page 9 of Off Limits Mogul

“C’est la vie.”

“You’re speaking French. I’m rubbing off you, aren’t I?”

She doesn’t speak French. She likes to pepper her commentaries withvoilà, y’all!

“So, what’s new at SCORE? Any scoops?”

“I’m just getting back into the swing of things.”

She frowns again. “What do you mean?”

“I got back three days ago from an extended business trip in Southeast Asia. Beckett was holding the fort while I was away.”

“I just came back from a trip as well. New York,” she says.

“Hence why you’re at the arrival gate.”

“You’re so funny,” she says with a giggle. “My socials caught the attention of celebrity superstar and lifestyle maven Gail Voopowski.”

“Who?”

“She’s a big actress. She even won an Academy Award, a Golden Globe Award, and a Primetime Emmy Award. She’ssostunning and such a super smart businesswoman… a real boss lady… likemoi.”

“Got it.” I nod. “Congratulations on catching her eye. Is Gail venturing into the tech business?”

“No. On top of being the CEO of an incredible lifestyle-magazine-type website—voop.com—she’s venturing to greater heights. She has a new perfume that sold out in like a nanosecond, and she needs top content creators to spread the good word as she rolls out a new shipment. Thanks to my four-point-six—and counting—million subscribers, I was on the list. They’re looking for massive exposure and they’re willing to fork out the money.”

Philly pulls out a small bottle from her handbag and sprays her body.

The strong scent assaults my nostrils.

I choke.

Fuck, that stinks.

“Oops,” Philly says. “I might’ve sprayed a little too much on.”

“I’ll survive.”I hope.

“What do you think? Do you like the scent?”

Philomena is one of the leading tech and gadget content creators. Her socials have several million users. A shout out from Philly and you’re golden. And since Beckett and I are on her list of favorites, I weigh my words.

“It’s hmmm… unusual. It’s hard to put into words.”Smooth. Well played, Hartford.

She shoots me a sultry glance. “It’s a scent a player like you knows well.” She cocks an eyebrow.

I frown my confusion. “I don’t follow,” I say.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve had that particular scent… and taste on your lips more times than you can count.”

Perhaps she had too much to drink on the plane.“We could be at this all night long. Why don’t you spell it out, Philly?”

“It’s called‘Eau de Vage’.” She closes the gap between us. “It translates to, pussy juices.”

Not what I expected.“That’s quite the marketing hook.”

“Trust me. It’s more than a hook… it’s a promise,” she says. “The scent is supposed to awaken a man’s primal feral nature.”