Page 8 of Beautiful Desire

Alright, dude, it’s time to man the fuck up.

This was just another one-night stand. No biggie. It meant nothing. Maybe she had an early morning flight to catch. Even if she didn’t, I don’t care.

Too ramped up now to go back to bed, I take a quick shower, get dressed, and down two espressos before making my way down to the lobby, where my driver is waiting to take me to my business meeting.

The whole way to my meeting, I can’t shake this feeling thatLdid the bait and switch and snuck out on me in the middle of the night for a whole other reason than to catch a flight. My ego is bruised, and I need to remind myself of who I am.

I’m Dominic Lombardi, entrepreneur. The youngest self-made billionaire and most eligible bachelor in Boston. Women take one look at me and my baby blues and go weak at the knees.

A small smile tugs at my lips as I remember all the looks I get from passersby on a daily basis. Catching a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror, I show off my pearly whites, because I’m one good looking bastard. I can’t let a little meaningless one-night stand fuck with my head. Even if I can’t stop thinking about her.

* * *

My day has gone by slower than a tortoise.

It started off with Jarvis, my driver I hire every time I’m in Florida to chauffeur me around, picking me up. Thankfully, he had the foresight to grab me a coffee on his way over to get me, because I definitely needed it. Unfortunately, I only got a couple of sips of it before Jarvis slammed on his breaks, causing the coffee to spill all over the front of my shirt and suit pants.

Luckily enough, it wasn’t super hot, so I didn’t have to worry about getting burned. Just about the fact that I was going to smell like coffee and look like I shit myself for my meetings.

Pulling up to the front of the building, I take the elevator up to the thirty-fourth floor and head into the office space I rent out. Walking over to the wardrobe next to the bank of windows, I find my luck just keeps getting worse. Opening the doors, I see all my spare suits are at the drycleaner. Guess I’ll have to go to my meetings like this after all.

Fuck it. Accidents happen, and I’m not in the mood for this today. I’m tired and hungry and would much rather still be in bed. Preferably withL.

I manage to make it through one whole meeting about mergers and buy-outs without thinking about the tall drink of water from last night. That is, until I put my hand in my pocket and feel her cuff bracelet I forgot I had put there.

I’m so busy fidgeting with it and thinking of her that I completely miss what was said to me. I really should pay attention, because this meeting is the sole reason why I came down to Florida. That, and for Peter’s wedding yesterday.

This deal could set me up for life. Not like I’m hurting for money without it. I make a hundred thousand dollars every minute. Hardly pinching pennies. But this deal could allow me to slow down on the work front and be able to travel a little more and stay out of the public eye, although no one aside from my staff and the investors I do business with know who I am and what I look like. I also make everyone I come into contact with sign an NDA, and I keep the best attorney on retainer for a reason.

There’s a reason why I don’t want anyone to know what I look like, and it’s far more than just to ward off the endless paparazzi or more women throwing themselves at me. When people find out about your success, it’s always the ones from your past who come out of the woodwork, asking for their handout or a favor. It’s called a past for a reason, and I’d rather mine stay there.

I sit through three more boring-ass meetings that I just can’t get into. My mind keeps wandering to last night and all the nefarious activitiesLand I did. All day long, my hand wanders on its own inside my pocket to feel her cuff. I don’t know why, but it’s almost like it grounds me every time I feel it.

Finally, the day has come to an end, and I can leave not only this office, but this state behind. Walking out of the building, I see Jarvis standing on the sidewalk in front of the car, waiting for me.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lombardi,” he says as he opens the back passenger door for me.

“Thank you,” I tell him as I climb in the back of the car and take my first real breath of the day.

Closing my eyes, I rest my head on the back of the seat and bask in my first moments of silence all day.

“Where to, sir?”

Opening my eyes, I raise my arm and read the time on my watch.

Seeing it’s 4:45 in the afternoon and I’ve conducted all of my business here in town, I say, “Take me to the airport. Call Wilson and tell him I want my plane ready to take off in the next thirty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

The drive to the airport is quicker than I thought it would be, and before I know it, we’re pulling up alongside my private jet on the tarmac.

“We’re here, sir. Is there anything else I can do or get for you before you leave?”

“I’m good, Jarvis. Thank you for taking me around town.”

Jarvis gets out and opens my door for me, and the warm Florida air kisses my face. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a wad of cash. Not bothering to count it, I take out a couple of hundred-dollar bills and hand them to Jarvis.

“Thank you, sir. Safe travels, Mr. Lombardi.”

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