Page 13 of Consumed By Desire

So here I am in my closet, looking at the evidence that Legend has practically moved into my house, getting ready for dinner. Slipping on myAnya Lustbra and panty set, which he also provided, before stepping into the dress.

Just about an hour later, I got the notification that the driver was waiting. Taking one final look in the mirror and I am more than pleased with my reflection. I grab my micro-purse and head downstairs.

“Well damn,” I say when I see Legend leaning against the car wearing a royal blue suit, white shirt and black tie. I pause in my step because I almost want to go back upstairs and skip dinner.

“Get that look out of your eyes, Bella, I will not be persuaded to skip dinner no matter how fuckable you look. Get your sexy ass in the car, Bella,” he says, opening the door for me. The driver weaves us smoothly through traffic towards the restaurant, he reaches over, takes my hand, and pulls me closer to him until my head is resting on his shoulder. Neither one of us talks. We just enjoy being in each other’s company. Before I knew it, the car is coming to a stop, and the valet was opening my door, however before I could move Legend was out of the car and coming around assisting me out. His hand rests on the small of my back as he guides me into the restaurant. We barely stop at the hostess station before the hostess is showing us to our private table. He pulls out my chair before sitting down across from me. We order and talk, enjoying our time together. The restaurant is beautiful, right on the water, and our table is in a secluded alcove that allows us to see the entire restaurant but stay in the shadows.

“Are you going to tell me what is wrong, Bella?”

“Nothi…”

“Don’t lie to me. Over the past month or so, you have been increasingly irritated, not with me but with something, and I have waited patiently for you to come to me, but now I am asking. Talk to me,” he says, and I open my mouth to lie again, but I am saved by the server. He brings appetizers and drinks for us, and I realize that we never ordered.

“How,” I begin.

“I already preordered, but if there is something you want that I failed to anticipate and provide for you, let me know, and I will rectify it,” he says and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt he is talking about more than just food. “I will,” I say quickly, clamping my lips together before I say something Legend will take me up on. I have learned over these past months to be careful with what I say to him. When they talk about men who don’t care where they are they must have had Legend in mind. At the movies, in the fitting rooms, in the back of the car, outside, or in a restaurant, he doesn’t care. All I have to say is I need, and he is doing whatever it takes to fulfill that need. I learned that the hard way when I found myself stuffed full of dick in the fitting room, but not only that, he paid the store manager and all the employees to close the store and leave for about two hours while he fucked me on the display table. He bought all the clothes we threw to the floor in our haste to get to each other and donated them to a shelter. So, I am real careful about what comes out of my mouth.

Once we begin eating, the food never stops until I am leaning back in my chair, begging them to stop bringing food to our table.

“Full, Bella?”

“Stuffed is more like it,”

“Come here,” he demands, and my feet are in motion before I give it any conscious thought. I take a seat next to him, he wraps his arm around me to rub my stuffed belly. I feel like a Thanksgiving turkey.

“Talk to me, Bella,” he says once I lay my head on his shoulder.

“I am losing clients, and I do not know why. Any time I push for answers, I get the same response, they don’t want to work with a person with my reputation. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out what reputation that is. I have been extra careful about the things that I do and don’t do so that it doesn’t come back to hurt my business, and somehow, I have managed to damage it anyways.” The words just come tumbling out of my mouth and it feel so good to finally share my burden with someone else.

“Who did you lose? What’s his name?”

Legend

I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as to who is meddling in Shannon’s business. And if it is him, the ass-whooping I already gave him is going to pale in comparison to what I am going to do next.

“I lost an executive that another company is trying to get into their company, I had pretty much found the loophole in his contract when he called me today saying that he didn’t want to work with me anymore. No more explanation other than he doesn’t want to work with someone with my reputation.”

“We’ll figure it out, Bella,” I tell her still rubbing her stomach as I formulate a plan to give Trent a visit tomorrow. After the fight, he tried and failed to press charges, but that was only due to Eli’s rules. If one person spoke about something that happened, then that would open the door for other things to be spoken about, so no one would corroborate his story.

“But,” she tries.

“No buts, Shannon, and let’s not have this conversation here unless you want the entire restaurant to see how I convince you to see things my way,” I say, kissing her on the forehead, and she wisely closes her mouth. She knows my way of convincing her is on my dick. The waiter comes back over to collect the dishes and settle the bill. I set my black card in the check presenter and wait for him to return with the receipt.

“Oh my god,” Shannon says, sitting up ramrod straight and looking at the hostess station.

“What is it, Bella?” I ask immediately, on alert.

“It’s him, the client I was working with that backed out on me today, Charles, but I don’t know who that is that he is with,” she says.

“I do, that is Trent. He’s the reason you had to playFlorence Nightingalewhen I showed up to your house drunk,” I tell her. “He was my high school bully, made my life a living hell, especially after Kruze left for college.”

“Why are they together? And do you think he is the reason for me losing clients?”

“I don’t know, Bella, but what are the odds of you losing a client and the same night we run into him with the same man who tormented me for four years?”

“We have to figure this out,” she says as the waiter comes back with my card and the receipt. I sign, drop several hundred-dollar bills on the table for the tip, and help Shannon out of her seat. We will have to pass Trent and Charles’ table on our way out, but their reaction will tell us if they are in cahoots with each other or just two acquaintances sharing a meal.

“You ready for this,” I ask and know I don’t need to explain further what I mean.

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