Page 67 of One Last Job

Hishotel room?

“That could…that could work.” My pussy quite literally throbs in anticipation. “And maybe we could finish what we started the other day?”

He leans down until his lips brush against my earlobe. “There’s nomaybeabout it, sweetheart.” His voice is low and husky and sends a shiver rippling through me. He pulls back and shoots me a wide and bright grin. “So you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.”

* * *

I don’t meanto toot my own horn, but the club looks stunning.

I step through the entrance for the first time as a guest and take it in through fresh eyes. It’s like I’ve walked into a fantasy world. The walls are bright and busy, the decorations decadent and eccentric, but there’s an air of class and sophistication to it all that elevates the space and brings everything together.

It’sbeautifuland I have to blink away a few tears as I walk through the growing crowd. I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud of a finished project before.

“Cynthia, you’ve done an absolutely phenomenal job, as always!” A tall man wearing a brightly patterned shirt descends on us and gives Cynthia two quick kisses on the cheek. He ignores me, although I’m standing right by her side.

Cynthia happily laps up the praise from him and the four other people who come after him and tell her what a fantastic job she did with the design.

When the fifth person approaches, I reach my limit. We’re only twenty minutes into the launch party for The August Room and already I’m drained. I don’t think I can bear an entire evening standing next to Cynthia and listening to her claiming my work as her own without so much of a hint of guilt flashing across her face.

I excuse myself, not that anyone hears me, and venture upstairs to the fourth floor to take a breather. I’ve got my overnight bag with me, and I need to stow it somewhere anyway. The guests have been relegated to the first two floors, and I feel a bit of the tension that’s been building within start to ebb away as the sounds of music and laughter disappear the higher up I go.

Finn’s not in the office, which is to be expected. He’s probably in one of the lounge areas schmoozing the hundreds of high-profile guests currently packed into the building. I stuff my overnight bag under the desk and then lean against it, taking several deep breaths. It’s going to be a long night, but there’s a Finn-shaped light at the end of the tunnel and knowing that is enough to keep me going.

I head back downstairs and join the throng of partygoers. It’s easy enough to find Cynthia again. She’s always got to be the centre of attention, and I find her by the first floor bar. She’s cackling and loudly taking credit for the plant pot statues embedded in the walls that I spent hours sourcing from a particularly tricky overseas supplier. Filling out the customs forms had been a nightmare but, of course, Cynthia doesn’t know that.

I quietly join the back of the group huddled around her and tune out Cynthia’s drawl.

“Now, you know, it was a bit of a rush job, but when The August Room comes calling, you don’t hesitate…”

Well, Itryto tune her out. Her voice has an irritating way of permeating my senses, like my brain is perfectly attuned to it and has some morbid sort of fascination with her lies.

I scan the room to try to distract myself, keeping an eye out for a familiar head of sandy blond hair. When I eventually spot him, he’s got a jovial grin on his face, and one hand is gesturing wildly as he says something to the group of fully enraptured people surrounding him. Whatever he just said, it’s apparently hilarious because they all break out into loud laughter. Including him.

They’re like moths to a flame, hanging onto his every word, and I can’t blame them. Even from across the room I can feel his magnetic pull, desperately trying to draw me in. I force myself to stay where I am and admire him from afar.

He looks divine in a midnight blue suit that’s been cut perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and subtle muscles. It fits him like a dream.

My dream specifically, because it’s going to take me a while to get this image of him — smiling, laughing, the light from the overhead lamps bathing him in a warm, inviting glow — out of my mind.

As if he can sense me watching him, his head suddenly snaps up in my direction. For a moment, it’s like everyone else in the room disappears. Green eyes lock onto mine and my heart stutters. His gaze roves over me slowly. Does he like what he sees — the fitted red satin dress I’m wearing with a long slit that goes all the way up my left thigh? Judging by the way he swallows, his gaze stopping on the small peek of skin he can see on my exposed thigh, and the flash of unmistakablewantin his eyes when they come back up to meet mine, I’m pretty sure he does.

My fingers twitch by my side in anticipation for what’s to come later.

He gives me a tiny nod, barely imperceptible if you weren’t looking for it, and I know that we’re both thinking the same thing.

The first time I fuck you, it’s going to be somewhere you can scream my name.

Those words have been running on a loop in my mind ever since he said them.

He says something to the group he’s with and then seconds later he’s striding across the floor and making a beeline toward me.

“Finn, darling!” Cynthia cries as she spots him. She grabs onto his arm and pulls him into a hug like they’re lifelong friends. “I was just telling everyone what a delight you’ve been to work with.”

I’m going to have to get him to teach me the art of keeping your face neutral, because his smile doesn’t falter for even a second. It’s only because I know him so well and I’ve become accustomed to seeing that bright spark in his eyes whenever he looks at me, that I notice when it dims slightly as he listens to Cynthia’s lies.

“Yes, well, the team at Zensi Designsare truly phenomenal,” he says. It makes my heart swell when I realise he’s choosing his words carefully, refusing to directly give Cynthia any credit but being vague enough that she doesn’t seem to notice. “It was a pleasure working with them.”

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