Page 11 of Once Upon A Sale

Today’s hangover is minimal, thanks to the water and pain reliever I took before falling asleep and another upon waking up.

Putting away my laptop and the work I’m doing for the Kill List, I run my fingers through my hair and, without asking myself why, slide my gaze to the phone and wonder for the hundredth time if Lord Tattoo will call or text. And yes, I remember the whole fucking thing despite the alcohol, which is annoying, to be honest.

“Hey, Sunny! Where are you, babe?” Shaking my head, knowing damn well that men you meet at a club don’t actually call the next day, I make a mental note to turn the page. Then again, we didn’t fuck, so maybe he’s hoping that’ll happen. Yeah, I don’t need the hassle. Besides, I’ve got Logan scratching my itches just fine.

“Right here.” Walking around the corner in my pj shorts and matching tank top, I make no noise barefoot on the tiled floors. Logan gives our house manager one of his classic, panty-melting grins that affect women from eighteen to eighty. “What brings you to my humble domain?” Logan snorts at our long-standing joke. This place is a million miles from humble, but it was already paid off by my father’s estate when he came to his untimely demise. Those hearts are fragile muscles, aren’t they?

“Thought I’d come by since I haven’t seen you since the party. You doing okay?” Logan is hot. Like, in every aspect of societal norms. Between the roman nose, the chiseled jaw, and the blonde, boy next door, quality that makes girls lose their panties as their tongues hang with want, he’s perfect on paper.

We’re the expected couple in our world. We’ve got the looks and the money, we make sense together, and as I’ve been told way more than I need to hear, we’d make beautiful babies together.

It feels like a cold shower over my head every time.

“Yeah, went out with the girls last night and well…tequila.” I kiss him on the cheek and wink as I take his hand and pull him to the sitting room. “Coffee? I’d offer you something stronger but it’s not even eleven, yet.” Contrary to popular belief, Logan isn’t just a playboy living off his mother’s fortune. He’s taken over her entire company, and in the last three years, it has flourished more than anyone expected. Except me, I always believed in his talents.

“Coffee is great. I have to go back to the office later.” This is definitely a booty call.

“Coming right up.” I’m about to turn and make him an espresso when I see Mina, my new house manager, nod with a polite smile to let me know she’ll take care of it. That woman is a life saver. When she applied for the position shortly after I fired Mrs. Carter, whom I suspect was fucking my dear old dad, she was poised and honest and clear in what she would accept for the job. We hit it off immediately.

Logan sits on the couch so I join him, my feet on his lap and my brows raised in expectation.

“Want me to do that thing with my thumb on the arch of your foot?” Taking my right foot, Logan raises it just enough to get a palm on my heel and his thumb on that wonderful sweet spot.

“Ah, yes please.” Now, this is Heaven. “I appreciate you coming by to check on me but I’m guessing a middle of the day visit means a little more than that since a phone call would have been easier and more efficient.”

Without looking up at me, he lets a slow grin tick up the corners of his mouth, all the while keeping his hands busy.

“You know me so well, Sunny.”

“That I do.” My lids fall closed when he hits a particularly hard knot. “So spill.”

“There’s a thing. With a plus one. Black tie, white gown.” He doesn’t even look at me when he speaks because he knows howmuch I hate these events. They’re stuffier than a nun’s vagina. Problem is, it’s imperative I keep up appearances or else my entire side affair goes out the window.

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“You haven’t even heard the date or time.” His chuckle tells me he was expecting my reaction.

“I’m a busy woman, Logan. Plus, my girls keep my social calendar crazy active.” One of his hands starts sliding up my calf and over my bent knee, fingers squeezing as he reaches my thigh.

“I’ll make it worthwhile.” I groan at his insinuation, knowing the only thing on his mind right now is the taste of my pussy. “I heard the venue has private balconies overlooking the ocean.”

One of my eyes pops open, my curiosity getting the better of me. “The Royal Blue?” Fuck, their caviar is to die for.

“The one and only.” Cocky bastard. Just as I’m about to give in and ask him the date, the sound of Lady Gaga and her poker prodigy puts a halt to the teasing hand. When I turn the phone to see the caller ID, it’s not a saved number. I’m aware this could be a telemarketer or a doctor’s office or the fucking president of some tiny country telling me I’ve got an inheritance waiting for me, but my mind goes straight to the stranger from last night.

Jumping off the couch like I’ve been electrocuted, I almost run into Mina as she brings the coffees and a simple arrangement of cookies and chocolates.

“I have to take this, sorry.” By the time I swipe the green button up, the phone stops ringing and my annoyance skyrockets. “Fuck.”

Then my phone pings and a satisfied grin takes up my entire face. Or at least, that’s how it feels.

Unknown number:Answer your fucking phone, sweetheart.

Me: My momma taught me not to talk to strangers.

Unknown number: I had my tongue in your mouth, sweetheart. I think we’re past basic introductions.

Me: But I haven’t tasted your dick, yet.

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