Page 26 of Burned
When I entered Kenzi’s office, she was just powering down her computer. I stood in the doorway for a moment and took her in. Beneath the business attire she wore was a delicate flower. When her eyes finally met mine, a smile graced her beautiful face. There was an undeniable pride about her that matched her smile. Pushing away from the doorjamb. I walked over to her. She met me halfway by rounding her desk, stopping just shy of the two upholstered chairs positioned in front of her desk. I enveloped her in my arms, pushing a stray hair from her cheek.
“Are you ready to go, beautiful?” I asked, keeping my eyes set on hers.
“Just give me a few minutes to freshen up.”
Kenzi left me with a quick kiss on the lips and a small pat on my chest. I watched her leave her office with a little swing to her step. Already I could feel my cock getting hard and couldn't wait until we got home, so I could feel her sexy legs wrapped around my waist as I pumped deep inside her.
~
I weaved in and out of traffic, trying to pick up some time. I wanted to arrive at the restaurant early so that Kenzi and I could have a drink and quite possibly get a confession out of her. Once there, I had to be selective in the questions I asked her. I didn’t want her to feel like she was being interrogated.
When we arrived at the prestigious restaurant, a valet stepped away from his podium and graciously opened the door for Kenzi while I got out of the car unassisted. I handed the young valet my key fob along with a hundred-dollar bill. “Make sure you park it where it won’t get any door dings.”
Taking the key and the money, he nodded his head and got inside the Audi. We entered the restaurant, where we were greeted by a host wearing a black suit with a matching black tie. When we made eye contact, he asked politely. “Do you have a reservation?”
Keeping my hand on the small of Kenzi’s back, I replied, “We are here with Jed Turner. Has he arrived yet?”
I waited for the host to look down his reservation schedule. As he searched, I looked around. It had been a while since I ate at Salamanto’s. It was probably one of the most expensive and sought-after restaurants in Chicago.
When the host finished the scan of his reservation list, he said, “Mr. Turner has not yet arrived. If you would like, I can take you to the table, or you can wait in the bar and I can get you once he is seated.”
Moving toward the bar, I replied. “We will be in the bar.”
We took a seat at the bar and I got the bartender’s attention and ordered a Crown on the rocks for me and a white wine for Kenzi. Before our drinks arrived, I turned toward Kenzi and asked noninvasively., “So how was your day? Did anything exciting happen?” I was kind by opening a window for her.
“It was good,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. “Mr. Marsh expects that I will try my first case within a month.”
“I’m so proud of you.” I truly was as I kissed her cheek. “So how was lunch? I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it to take you out.”
“I just had one of the paralegals bring me something to eat. I was completely swamped with work and wanted to make sure I was ready to leave at five, so I just ate in.”
I had to be sterner with my questions. Downing half of my drink, I looked deep into her soul. “Was Mark able to find you? He wanted to let you know that he had to leave the building, but Brian would still be around to assist you if you needed any help.” It was a straight ass lie, but I needed her to come clean. “He tried calling, but you weren’t answering.”
“I don’t remember seeing his call come up on my phone. What time did he call?”
Got her.“Around ten. Where were you that you couldn’t answer?” I asked, and when she didn’t answer, I asked again. “Kenzi, where were you?”
“I better go to the ladies' room before your client gets here.” Kenzi avoided my question and rose from her seat and walked over to where the host was standing.
I assumed she was getting the directions to the ladies' room since she headed in the opposite direction, past the dining area. Turning toward the bar, I signaled the bartender for another drink. The questioning I hoped would lead to her confession got me nowhere. I needed a different approach, but unfortunately, it would have to wait. Turner’s large build stared back at me through the mirror behind the bar.
Just as I remembered, he was a cocky SOB as he strutted over to the bar and took a seat next to me. “Give me a Glenlivet. Neat,” he demanded—the bartender on the other side of the bar was filling the beer cooler.
Turning to face him, I stuck out my hand, but only because I wasn’t an ass. “Good to see you, Jed. How long has it been?” I knew exactly how long it was since we shared a drink—three years.
“Cut the bullshit, Stevenson. I’m not here to catch up. Let’s get this meeting over with. My plane leaves in three hours.”
Some things never change. I thought three years would have softened his brusque manners. With the millions he acquired, he could act like an ass. This would be a long night. Thankfully, I had Kenzi to keep him in line.
As we headed toward the dining room, Kenzi appeared before us. Turner never missed the chance to come on to a woman half his age—as though I had room to talk. Turner wasn’t a handsome man, but he was a charmer. Giving Kenzi his signature smile that cost him more than most people make in a year, he took her hand, leaned over ready to place his lips on the back side. “And who might this lovely creature be?”
I had to smile. Kenzi wasn’t at all impressed by his forwardness. “You must be the client River spoke of,” she said as she pulled her hand from his grasp before his wrinkled lips met her skin.
The scar across Turner’s left cheek became more prominent as his smile faded into a straight line. “My name is Jed Turner and after today, it will be a name you will never forget, pussycat.” Kenzi turned her head, and I knew she was rolling her eyes at his comment. She wasn’t taken by his charm like most women were. Given that I had told her about him in advance, that might have swayed her impression of him.
Once we were all seated, Turner didn’t wait until we ordered to bark off his demands. “My investors won’t take anything less than twelve hundred units of your solar batteries. They also require a name change. Triage isn’t a well-known name and will hamper their sales.”
Before I could tell him where he could stick it, Kenzi intervened, “Mr. Turner, I believe you are sadly misinformed. Both River and Triage are well-known names.”
