Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,9
leave anyone—even people I trusted—in my office unattended. It was one part of the club where video surveillance only activated after we closed. David had drummed that into me from the start, and there was too much in those filing cabinet drawers I didn’t want public. Namely my plans for expansion and the investment I intended to make.
So drama would have to wait, Jared taking the hint and following me outside as I locked my office once we’d reached the other side of the door.
“Presley, I—”
“Leighton,” I cut him off, “I need to go.”
And with the problem of leaving him in my office no longer a concern, I was able to be as dramatic as I wanted. Which is exactly what I did as I flipped my hair over my shoulders and walked away.
You’re move, Leighton. Let’s see if you’re the man I assumed you were.
Presley
THE CLUB WAS busy as usual, the bodies parting as I made my way through. It was either from my reputation as a hard-ass manager who didn’t take any shit. Or my terminal resting bitch face which I seemed to wear during business hours. It wasn’t intentional, my smile missing in action when I was on duty, too busy making sure everyone else was having a good time and we stayed in the green. Seemed more of an important concern rather than making sure my disposition was cheery. Besides, no one ever asked a man to smile and look pretty, and while I never stepped foot onto the floor looking less than perfect, I’ll be damned if I was going to plaster a fake grin on my face for someone else’s benefit.
“Took you a while.” Bennett chuckled from behind me, his ability to enter and leave a situation silently more impressive than my lack of smile.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring him as I crossed the floor to the roped-off section which was mostly shielded from the public.
“Boss.” Thomas, the security guard who took care of the VIP team, nodded as I walked past, only taking his eyes off the crowd for a minute to acknowledge me.
“Thanks, Thomas. How’s the wife?”
“Hasn’t filed for a divorce yet, guess there’s a positive,” he deadpanned, hiding his grin. “Back left. Scott Collins. Actor. Famous Dad. From L.A.” He gave me his concise report which was as valued as his eagle eyes. “And Jared Leighton is still at the bar.”
Damn it.
I inhaled, putting those yoga breathing exercises to good use even though there wasn’t a chance I’d be finding my zen.
What the hell was he doing at the bar, and why hadn’t he left like I’d asked? Still not the problem that needed my immediate attention which meant I’d forget about him, his sexy body and his hotter-than-hell kiss, and be the professional everyone expected. Not an easy thing to do when what I really wanted was to head right to the bar and find out if he’d had a change in heart about Raelle or if he had some other agenda.
“Lucky him,” I breathed, moving away from the entrance and into Diablo’s club within a club.
It had its own bar, its own bathrooms—totally autonomous, and stocked with so much top-shelf liquor, the inventory alone was worth more than a brand-new car. It was our star attraction, and even if most people didn’t get to see the inside, it made me proud I was in charge of all of it.
Even if Thomas hadn’t pointed him out, I’d have seen Scott Collins the minute I’d walked in. Hollywood blond hair that looked too perfect to be real, his flashy white smile had probably paid for his dentist’s new yacht. He was classically handsome, his well-toned body covered in designer down to his Ferragamo loafers, with his face and name attached to the latest blockbuster I hadn’t had time to see.
I might have been impressed, except his kind weren’t so rare. Before Scott, there was a Brad, or Keanu, or Chris—multiple of them actually—who’d have sat in a chair exactly like the one he was in. And in a few years, those two busty women who were hanging on his every word would be trying to impress someone else. But that was really the point though wasn’t it, and why Diablo was open seven nights a week. Someone had to give their “kind” a safe haven, and I was more than happy to provide it.
Besides, for as good looking as Scott was—and trust me, he was hot—every time he opened his mouth,