Page 166 of The Winslow Brothers

It’s the whole reason I moved from Vancouver to LA and the whole purpose I was seeking when I started Daisy Designs’s social media presence.

Though never in a million years did I think my Instagram following and popularity would get me on a guy like Damien’s radar. To this day, I still feel like there’s been some sort of mistake.

“What time did you end up getting in?”

“A little before noon.”

“Doll, you’ve practically been here all day. What in the hell have you been doing? You should’ve called me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know how to keep myself busy.” I waggle my brows. “Shower, nap, slot machines, and a delicious room service lunch, to be specific. Though not in that order.”

“Slot machines? For real?” he questions on a laugh. “And how did that treat you?”

“I’m up five hundred.”

He jolts his head back. “You’re up five hundred on fucking slot machines?”

“Well, technically, I broke even on this addictive buffalo game, but apparently, I was so entertaining while playing, a random stranger gave me a five-hundred-dollar chip.”

“A random stranger?” he questions. “Girl, tell me he’s tall, dark, and handsome with a big cock and you got his number.”

“Technically, he was tall, medium-brown, and handsome. His hair was a little on the lighter side.”

“And the cock?”

“Shoot.” I snap my fingers. “I knew I forgot something. It totally slipped my mind to have him drop his pants so I could take a look.”

Damien grins. “Did you at least get his number? Any man who’s willing to cough up money because he thinks you’re entertaining shows some serious sugar-daddy potential.”

“Oh my God!” I exclaim on a giggle. “I don’t want a sugar daddy.”

“I do.”

“Damien, I hate to break it to you, but youarethe sugar daddy.”

“You think Mateo is just using me for my money?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Dame, you’re handsome. But your boyfriend is a twenty-five-year-old Brazilian model with the prettiest face and tightest ass I’ve ever seen.”

He winks. “He has a big cock too.”

“TMI!” I cough on my own saliva. “TMI!”

“Don’t be such a prude, Dais.” Damien just laughs and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Now go get yourself a drink and enjoy the party.”

And then he’s off, doing his usual Damien-thing of schmoozing and impressing everyone in the room. I swear, I’ve never met anyone like him. Successful, hilarious, insanely fashionable, and sophisticated, yet he’s unapologetically himself.

It’s the kind of confidence and contentment that only come with age and wisdom and experience. I wish I could bottle it up and add it to my daily vitamin regimen.

The bar in my sights, I head on over and snag a glass of the complimentary champagne that sits out for everyone in attendance. Glass to my lips, I take a sip and enjoy the odd sensation of bubbles tickling my throat as it slides down into my belly.

“Daisy Diaz.” A familiar male voice fills my ears, and I turn to find Duncan Jones striding toward me with his signature smile etched across his lips. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

I lift my glass in the air and offer a neutral smile. “Well, I’m here.”

“And I’m glad.” He pulls me into a friendly hug, and it lingers about five seconds longer than I would deem appropriate. “I’m hoping you’ll finally let me take you to dinner this weekend.”

“Considering it’s already Saturday night, and Damien and Thomas have plenty planned for this evening and all daytomorrow, I’m thinking you’re going to have to take a rain check.”

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