Page 14 of Seductive Scoundrel

After rackingmy brain for ten minutes, I can’t recall a single time a woman has bought me anything since I became rich enough to buy the best parts of New York City. Mia sending me a gift – especially a sexy one that shows me her mind is exactly where mine is – made an uncomfortable lump form in my chest.

What do you buy a man who already has everything? Something that shows you’re thinking about him and want him – badly. The dollar value doesn’t matter and it’s…sweet, endearing…that she tried to do something for me when I’m always the person who makes the gestures in my interactions with women.

She was so hesitant to show me her face that I was starting to get a bit worried about horrible disfigurement, but little Miss Mia could have stepped off a runway with her dangerous curves and perfect bone structure. I’ve fucked models, actresses, YouTube superstars, and enough pseudo and real celebrities to know – she’s perfection by any stretch of the imagination.

And I have a very active imagination.

Mia promised to have phone sex with me tonight, but I also have dinner with Dex, and that can’t be skipped or cut short – business will always come first. I’m confident she’ll wait up for me, though, and it will be the perfect end to a long, grueling day.

I’m about to shoot her a message when one comes in.

Gwynne: Why are you ghosting me? Not cool. You’re still coming to the gala with me on Saturday, right?

Fuck.

There’s not a chance in hell I’m skipping the date with my new addiction, but I also haven’t been fair to Gwynne by not telling her that my availability has gone from limited to non-existent. Mia has taken up the slivers of my spare time, so now I’ll have to be thirty seconds late to my conference call to deal with this situation.

Dean: Can’t, sorry. I have a date. Take your dad. He’ll write them a big check.

Gwynne: Seriously? That is not how our arrangement works, McCormick.

Dean: Real date takes priority. I won’t apologize again, and I’m not changing my mind, so no use arguing with me.

Gwynne: Since when do you go on “real” dates? What the fuck, Dean? You’re such a prick.

Dean: Never said otherwise. You don’t see me crying when you fuck other guys. We’re together when it’s convenient. That’s the arrangement. And Saturday is no longer convenient. If you don’t like it, approximately half the city would take your place when I’m ready for you again.

Gwynne: Fuck you! I’m not going to your stupid fundraiser then. Maybe you should take your dad!

Dean: Okay, no worries.

I’m sure that I can convince Mia to go with me. Now that I’ve seen the face that matches the wet-dream body, I don’t think she’ll be fucked out of my system quite as soon as I originally thought. I watch the bubbles appear on the screen while Gwynne contemplates her reply for far too long before finally sending me a bear giving the middle finger.

Whatever. No time for complications.

Gwynne was easy because she never wanted more, or demanded too much of my time. But if that’s going to change, then so is the arrangement. She’ll need to find someone else to be her stand-in date and cock-on-demand.

The intercom on my desk fills with the sound of Jacqueline’s breathless voice telling me to get my ass in gear. The majority of my employees are deferential, but the ones closest to me have no problem telling me how it is, which I appreciate.

Most of the time.

“Five minutes,” I snap.

“Dean!”

“Okay, four. Conversation closed.”

Dean: I have a dinner engagement this evening that I can’t skip. Will you wait up for me?

Mia: Dinner engagement? Who talks like that?

Dean: Rich people? Fuck, I don’t know.

Mia: Who is going to this so-called engagement with you?

Dean: A business associate – a man, if that’s what you’re asking. I promise the next woman I’m sliding inside is going to be you.

Mia: It won’t be too late? I have a long commute and wake up early.

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