Taking Control (12 page)

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, Tiny. In bed and out of it.” I grin roguishly, memories of some of our activities outside the bed tripping through my mind. I can see by the flush in Tiny’s cheeks she’s sharing similar visions. “When I close my eyes, I think of you, and the only memories I have are those I’ve made with you.”

“How?” she looks bewildered.

“Because I make it so.”

She lets me capture her mouth for a long, drugging kiss. With steady pressure I affirm all the words I’ve just stated. She’s the only one I want now and forever. Beneath me she softens, her lips part, and her body cants toward me. Under the table, I press my palm against her cloth-covered sex.

“If you’d let me wear a skirt, you could be touching me right now,” she whispers naughtily against my mouth. Her words are like gasoline on a flame.

I grind the heel of my palm down and press my fingers tight against her. “I can make you come right here at the table.”

Her thighs tighten around my hand. “Without taking my clothes off?”

Is she issuing me a dare?
Challenge fucking accepted.

“I can make you come at least once, no penetrative touching. No under the clothes touching.”

She laughs then, a low sultry sound that strikes me right in the groin.

“I know you can. This is why that girl is crying in the bathroom.”

“Back to that?” I sigh and withdraw my hand. “If you aren’t going to let me make you come here, then let’s go home where you can scream without anyone but me hearing you.”

“Can’t.” Her lips twist into a wry grimace. “Sarah.”

“Kaga will take care of her. He’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

“You should leave with the one who brought you,” she quips. I can tell I’m not moving her from this seat until we get some reassurance from her friend.

I pull out my cellphone and call Kaga. He answers at the first ring. “You need some pointers? Can’t close the deal?”

“Tiny lives with me. I’ve already closed the deal.” I wink at Tiny but she rolls her eyes at my comment. “Unlike you, whose girl is currently roaming the halls of an ivy-covered campus with feral frat boys chasing her down.”

“I’m going to take so much money from you at the next poker game, you’ll be in a fetal position begging for mercy after the first hour.”

“If money is going to make you feel better about your inaction, I’ll just leave some here on the table because I’m a good friend.”

“Fuck you, Kerr. What is it you called about?”

“Tiny won’t leave without knowing that Sarah is going to be okay, but if Tiny doesn’t leave now then we’re going to put on a show that will probably get your bar closed down for public indecency.”

“Hold on,” he sighs.

“Hello?” Sarah comes on the line. I hand the phone to Tiny who carries on a short conversation with her. After she hangs up, she gives me a nod.

As I help her out of the booth, she says, “You have some good lines, but it’s still pretty bad you don’t remember her.”

“Are we back to Melinda? My guess is that she’s sadder she lost her VIP access than anything else.” I place my hand at the base of her spine, just under her blouse, enjoying the feel of her warm skin against my palm.

“That’s cruel.”

“Maybe, but more than likely the truth.” I shrug. I’m not interested in discussing a random woman I slept with and have since forgotten. The only woman I care about is standing in front of me. I press a button on my phone to signal that Steve should bring the car around.

“Wait.” Tiny gasps. “She’s right there with
Howe
.”

I follow her arm and spy a tall, thin brunette standing right next to Richard Howe, who apparently hasn’t yet left the bar. He has a hand around her bare waist and she’s dressed in a backless tank and a tiny mini. They’re talking at the base of the VIP stairs. It’s hard to say whether they’re arguing or whether this is Richard’s move to get her to have sex with him in one of the plunge pools or a banquette.

Her appearance sparks a vague memory. “I think I dated her for a period of a couple months—maybe three—several years ago.” She looks generic to me. At one time, early on in my success, I slept with models and aspiring actresses and any other lady who turned my head. As I got older and needed something more than physical interaction, I started dating women in finance. Bankers, lawyers, and writers. The pillow talk was more interesting, as was dinner conversation. But still, none of them held my interest and I’d always moved on.

“What’s she doing with the scumbag?” Tiny scowls, her forehead crinkling angrily. We watch as Richard’s hand dips down over the model’s ass and cups it. From our superior angle, it’s easy to see his fingers disappear under the girl’s skirt. She looks surprised and then resigned. Her fingers run up and down his lapel. Even if she doesn’t want him, she’s willing enough.

“He’s a meal ticket. Modeling is a tough gig.” I apply light pressure on Tiny’s back to urge her forward. I don’t really care what Howe is up to tonight. He can fuck a hundred models as long as he doesn’t look Tiny’s way.

But there’s no way to avoid Howe as we exit, since he’s standing at the base of the stairs. Both he and the model turn toward us, and Howe gives Tiny an appraising look that makes her shift slightly to use my frame as cover. I reach behind me and draw her to the opposite side, away from Howe.

“I see your taste in women still runs toward the trashy side.”

Melinda gasps, but Tiny only squeezes my hand.

Kaga wouldn’t care if I laid Howe out on the floor with a punch to the jaw, but I’m not going to give Howe ammunition for an assault charge. The one thing you learn when dealing with cops is to never throw the first punch.

“Your inability to judge quality when you see it is why you are a failure, Howe. In the future, it’d be good for your health to pretend Tiny and I do not exist. Remember what I said before. Your time here is limited.”

I give a short nod to Melinda. She reaches out a hand toward me, but I shift away so that it merely brushes my sleeve.

“Someday you’ll pay for all this,” Howe says.

“That day is never going to happen.” Kaga’s place is too successful, and the packed crowd is preventing us from making a quick escape.

“He’s not worth it.” Tiny directs this to Melinda.

“Not all of us get Ian Kerr to take us home,” she says sadly.

“You could do better.” Tiny reaches out a hand. “Trust me. You’re an amazing girl. Don’t settle.”

I stifle a laugh. Nothing could be more insulting than for two gorgeous women to be completely ignoring Howe. It’s better than a punch in the face because it hits him where it really counts—his vanity.

Howe’s face turns livid as the model allows herself to be drawn away.

“You’re right.” She visibly straightens her shoulders. “You’re so right.”

Leaning forward, she gives Tiny a kiss on the cheek and sends me another sad smile before drifting into the crowd. I take Tiny’s hand and push through to the exit. Howe is left behind us, completely alone.

NINE

“I
S
SEVEN
TOO
EARLY
?” T
INY
asks.

“No, but if my meeting runs late, just start without me.” I glance at my watch. “How do you want to run this meeting? You know that the likelihood that he has anything of your mother’s is almost nil.”

“I’ll regret it if I don’t at least go and hear him out.”

“He wants something,” I warn.

“I
know
that. I know he’s not a good guy. I lived with him, remember?” she shoots back with asperity. “But wondering if he does have something of Mom’s will bug me far more than if I let him bullshit us for a couple hours. You don’t have to come.”

“I’m coming.” The clock hasn’t magically moved backward since I first called her. Reluctantly I agree, knowing she’s right. “But I’m going to be late.”

“We’re going to be in a public place. There’s nothing he can do that can hurt me. Words, Ian, can’t hurt me. I don’t care enough about Mitch to let his opinions about anything bother me. Go forth and be your bad investment self.”

After telling her I love her, I hang up and hurry to the conference room. Today’s meeting is with the wearables firm. They have ideas for everything from clothes that change colors depending on your mood to shoes that provide differing cushioning depending on the walking surface. The meeting runs longer than I anticipated but a few glances at my watch has them hurrying to wrap it up.

Because of the overlong meeting, I’m not able to head home to get ready. Instead I make my way to the en-suite bathroom attached to my office and pull out a dark suit suited for the stuffy Plaza environment.

Quickly, I finish dressing and call Steve.

“Mate,” he answers.

“Where are you?”

“Idling outside 14011”.

That’s the address to my home in the Meatpacking district. “I’ll call for a car to take me up to the Plaza. Can you keep Tiny in the car until I get there?”

He laughs at me and hangs up. Right, as if Tiny would stay put until I arrived.

I call for a car and they promise one will be delivered in the next ten minutes. I check my watch. It’s 6:35, and I’m going to be late. As I take the elevator down, I give Tiny a call.

“Hey,” she sounds rushed. “I’m glad you called. I’m going to be late. I haven’t left yet. Are you there?”

“No, bunny, I’m running late too.”

She laughs. “It was just crazy today. A client’s husband came storming in saying that it was against the law for us to be following him and taking pictures of him cheating on his wife. It was all very dramatic. I’ll tell you about it at dinner. No, after dinner,” she revises.

“When we’re by ourselves,” I suggest.

“Yes.” She blows out a big breath. “This meeting is so uncomfortable for me, that even if you hadn’t made me promise to bring you along, I would have forced you to go anyway.”

“We’re a team now. I’m there for you in whatever capacity you need,” I assure her, walking out onto the sidewalk. “Stay in the car until I get there. I can call ahead and let them know that whatever he orders can be put on my tab.”

“I’m not going to cower in your car,” she says, annoyed. “Ian, stop worrying.”

“I can’t. I love you. You are the most important person in the world to me and he knows it. He’s a user.”

“Will you trust me?” she says impatiently.

“I do trust you.” I look for the car. It’s still not here. I won’t be using that firm again. “It’s him that I’m worried about.”

“Just get here soon and we won’t have a problem.”

“The damn car isn’t here. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I promise. Because I don’t want her going in pissed at me, I change the subject. “By the way, the next time the tailor comes to New York, I’m going to have to ask for looser fitting pants.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I kept getting hard thinking about you today and it was very uncomfortable.”

She laughs delightedly. “You should have rubbed one out in the bathroom.”

“What makes you think I didn’t?”

I’m getting hard just talking about it. Fuck. The effect she has on me is unreal.

“I hope you have some energy for me tonight,” she teases.

“I promise that there isn’t a dirty thought you can have that I can’t fulfill after drinks.”

“I can’t wait,” she says throatily.

“I’m going to hang up on you now before I get arrested for public indecency.”

She’s laughing when we disconnect which puts a smile on my face, and that’s why I’m taken off guard when the first fist strikes my face.

TEN

T
HE
PUNCH
CAUGHT
ME
UNAWARES
and snapped my chin to the right. A lefty then. Most people lead with their dominant hand. I take another to the gut before I bring my own fist straight under his chin. The force snaps his head back, but another punch hits me from the right. Then I realize there are two people. The tight cut of my suit might have looked nice in the boardroom but was preventing real movement, and with the next punch I throw, I hear a corresponding rip in my jacket sleeve.

Fighting two people in an alley near dusk in the city wasn’t as easy as the movies made it out to be, but I grew up on the boulevards of Jersey, where the gamblers and mobsters and grifters spent their time. If you were a kid who didn’t want to sell his body, you fought. Sometimes you fought for money, but most of the time you fought to keep what you had. And the more money I won at the tables, the more people wanted to meet me under the docks and behind the casinos to see if I was strong enough to keep it.

I haven’t fought off two guys in a long time—at least not with my fists. I preferred to fight using paper and greenbacks. I’ve realized you could do a lot more harm with money than you could with your hands. But the time spent in the seedy parts of Atlantic City has never left me. And I am stronger now—lifting weights on a daily basis and sparring with friends in the gym has kept me sharp. The asphalt of the alleyway is steady under my feet, unlike the sand and mud I’d fought in years ago. Planting my left leg, I swing my heel into the side of the bruiser on my right. When he stumbles, I jam an elbow into his jaw and follow him to the ground to avoid the punch of his smaller friend. Another elbow into Big Guy’s eye socket dazes him, and I use the opportunity to push upright.

Diving at Small Guy, I drive him into the wall of the alley, the small space serving as an aid rather than a hindrance. It’s tight for two fighters and almost impossible for three. This time, my footing is uneven because I choose to use Big Guy as my floor, grinding the ball of my foot into his windpipe as I smash a fist into the nose of Small Guy. I hear it crack under my fist. I quicken the pace of my blows, wanting this to be over and cognizant of the time ticking by. Small Guy can’t get his hands high enough to hit me in the face because I’m too close, so he punches me in the obliques and then my upper ribs.

I use my elbows and body as much as I can so that my hands won’t look like raw meat when I get to Tiny. I stomp on the downed guy’s nose and when his face lolls to the side, I bring a knee up to Small Guy’s groin. His hands fall away from my sides to protect himself, and I use his dropped guard to punch him once in the gut. When his head dips, I drive an elbow into his chin and that’s enough to knock him out.