I rolled my eyes and looked out the window again, trying not to think about Mirko staring at me, or the single room I was about to share with Rees—and the single bed he most definitely wanted me in.
4
Rees
My back ached like hell the next morning and for ten minutes, as I sat in the suite’s adjoining living area and drank some coffee, I regretted not getting Millie her own room. It would’ve been nice, sleeping in a real bed, instead of on that god-awful couch that looked much more expensive than it felt.
At least until she stepped out with her messy bedhead, wearing a tight t-shirt that showed off her half-hard nipples and a pair of black tights clinging to her curves. Then suddenly my stupid decision was very much worth it.
“Morning,” she said, poured herself some coffee, and sat on the couch with her legs tucked under her where my face had been only an hour before.
“Morning,” I said, gazing at her. “I already went to the gym and took a shower down there. And here you are, just getting out of bed.”
“I didn’t realize I had to be up on your schedule.”
“Everything’s on my schedule, darling.” I took a long sip of my coffee and debated telling her the bad news. I didn’t want to start the day off like this, but I didn’t have much of a choice. “Mirko emailed me last night. He wants to meet somewhere else today.”
“Really?” she asked, tilting her head. “Where at?”
“He’s opening a new club tonight. An exclusive sort of place. He wants us to come.”
She chewed her lip, which was endearing and more than a little sexy—if it weren’t for the context, at least. She was clearly uncertain about being in a club setting with Mirko, and frankly, I couldn’t blame her. If I could keep her far away from that man, I would.
I knew he had certain tastes. He liked younger women, and in particular women that he wasn’t supposed to have. I hoped that wouldn’t extend to Millie, but clearly, I was wrong. I needed Mirko’s money to make this SPAC work, but I didn’t need it so much that I’d risk letting him do something degrading. I was a bastard and an asshole, but not a fucking pimp, and Millie was not my whore. I wouldn’t ask her to flirt with him, or to do anything remotely outside of her comfort zone, even if it fucked this whole trip.
“If you think that’s the right move,” she said at last, sounding like she hoped I’d back out.
“You can stay behind if you want,” I said earnestly. “I know Mirko makes you uncomfortable. You and half the city.”
“It might be good if I came,” she said, absently tapping her fingers against the couch. “The whole point is for us to be seen together, right?”
“That’s true,” I said, “and there will be a lot of eyes at this event.”
“Mirko can’t do anything too inappropriate in public, right?”
I snorted softly. “That’s optimistic. You don’t know Mirko.”
“I’ll slap him if he crosses any lines.” She nodded to herself, likes he was making up her mind. I wanted to argue and convince her to stay, but she had a point. Mirko was more likely to keep his hands to himself in a public area, and the club would be very public—though loud, and dark, and drowning in alcohol. Even still, he wouldn’t be able to take things too far, especially not if I didn’t let her out of my sight for a moment.
And she was right, we needed to be seen together. Tonight was the perfect opportunity.
“Alright,” I said. “It’s settled then.” I stood up and stretched, stifling a yawn. “Make sure you wear something sexy.”
She rolled her eyes. “What, for Mirko?”
“Fuck Mirko. That’s for me.” I headed into the bedroom to pick out my clothes for the night, and to let her stew on that one for a second. I wasn’t kidding around: I wanted to see her most revealing outfit. I wanted to be teased and tempted, even more than I already was.
But most of all, I wanted eyes on her. I wanted the other men there to see me with her and to realize that if I had a woman like Millie, it made no sense that I’d be fucking around with Giana. I wanted their jealousy and their assumptions.
I wanted Millie though, most of all.
* * *
The room was a dark, dank pulse of techno music and packed bodies. Millie pressed up against my arm, wearing a plunging neckline and a pair of tight, black jeans. Necklaces hung around her neck, and bracelets jangled around her wrists, and her thick, dark hair hung loose over her shoulders. She looked like a movie star, or a goddess, or something I wanted to slowly undress, peeling off the layers until she sat splayed and naked and gorgeous.
Mirko’s club was a facsimile of every European place I’d ever been: modern and sleek, lots of white and black, lots of glass and metal. The dance floor was packed with rich people grinding to some famous DJ I’d never heard of, and the music was like a hammer in my ears. But I noticed more than a few people I recognized, if only from a distance, and I saw them recognize me, then look to Millie, their gazes lingering.
She was a sight. It took all my self control to keep my hands off her. Even though we were supposed to be a couple, I had to at least pretend like we worked together, and she was my assistant for real. It was a strange little tightrope to walk, but it suited me.
The club though, I hated its ever-loving guts.
“Let’s get a drink,” Millie said in my ear, her breath warm. “It’s packed in here.”
She took my hands absently, and tugged me through the crowd. I couldn’t do much more than follow, our
