Page 22 of Empowered
Mr. Monroe checked a text from his wife on his phone – Sarah knew it was from Mrs. Monroe because Damon only made that face when dealing with his wife, the magnanimous woman who had turned his whole world and family upside down.
Sarah didn’t care about the faceshemade. She only cared about the calming countenance on Mr. Blackbourne’s.
Stop it. Stop looking at him. He’s a cretin. They all are.She wasn’t sure if she lumped Mr. Monroe in there. The man had never made a pass at her, but his father… guilty by association in his case.
She couldn’t stop looking at him. At Lucas.
It took her a moment to realize he was gazing back at her, his head thrown back against the back of the seat and occasionally puffing on his cigar. But those blue eyes were definitely – absolutely, certainly – pointed in her direction. She nonchalantly took up her post again and gave him only a cursory look before glancing away again.
His gaze continued to penetrate her.
He’s not good looking at all.That’s what she told herself, even though she knew it was a brutal falsehood. Lucas Blackbourne was as hot as the lights beating upon them. There was a reason half the men in the room had taken off their jackets, loosened their ties, and rolled up their sleeves. Even in that dim room, Sarah could see the black hairs sweeping up and down Lucas’s arms.
She remembered the hints of hair on his chest when she unbuttoned his shirt. Recalled the scent of his body as it overcame her. The strength rumbling beneath his skin. The hot musk of his cock when it entered her mouth more than once. How he made her shudder with only a few touches of his hand…
“Ms. Clayborn.”
She jerked at the sound of her boss’s voice. Mr. Monroe motioned for her to come over, his stony face implying he had called for her more than once.
Sarah approached, careful to not make eye contact with Lucas. “Yes, sir?”
“Check in on management for me. Then you may do as you please.” That was his way of releasing her from her services that weekend. “Have a good one.”
“Yes, sir.” She briefly looked in Lucas’s direction. “Mr. Blackbourne.”
He raised his cigar in her direction.
Sarah went downstairs, stealing breaths whenever she had the chance. At least in the back halls, where management dwelled, she didn’t have to listen to sensual music or smell the sex everyone but her was having that night. Mr. Monroe would probably go home to an even more relaxing evening with his wife. Mr. Blackbourne? He could have any woman he wanted. Sarah preferred to not be around to watch him cheat on his wife again.
After speaking with the manager, Sarah accepted that she was no longer on the clock. She texted her brother that she would be heading home in a few minutes. First, she wanted to go to the bathroom – where she found a lesbian couple doing very non-platonic things on the damn sink – and get a drink. A stiff one. The kind she couldn’t get at home because it wasthatstrong.
She stood at the secondary bar in the main room. The line here was shorter, and the bartender knew her well enough to know to leave the lime out. All of the sweaty bodies around her, regardless of how drenched in expensive cologne and perfume they were, drove her to take off her jacket before downing her drink.
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
Sarah nearly choked on the last of the liquid shooting down her throat. She put her glass down in time to see Lucas sidle up to the bar and lean both muscular arms against it. His chin was propped on his hand as he stared at her.
“Mr. Blackbourne,” she calmly said. “Can I help you? Afraid I’m off the clock now, but if there’s something you really need…”
Lucas accepted the glass sliding into his hand. “I need to know why you were crying.”
She couldn’t breathe, swallow, or think. “Excuse me? What a personal question.”
“Does your boss know you cry in the women’s restroom?”
“Mr. Blackbourne,” Sarah growled. “I would rather not.”
He sipped his drink, unlike Sarah who had inhaled it. “Fine, then. Let’s talk about something else, Ms. Clayborn.”
“I’m afraid I must get going. I’m expected at home.”
“Oh? Husband?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?”
She glared at him. “My brother.”
