One Exquisite Touch (The Extravagant #2)- Lauren Blakely Page 0,34
at dinner next week.
13
Cole
That was not how I’d expected that meeting to go.
I’d expected a business meeting, a chance to extend an olive branch, set rivalries aside, and work together on the campaign.
I never anticipated my Wednesday morning appointment would turn into a private fantasy fulfillment session. Since I’m damn sure that’s what it was for her. I don’t think I’m wrong—Sage Carmichael is coming face-to-face with her own filthy desires for the first time.
Indulging in them. Experiencing them.
And do I ever want to be the man she uses to play out her dirty dreams.
But sex with Sage Carmichael also can’t happen again. Too much is at stake. Too much rides on the success of my new hotel.
My reputation. My goals. My vision. The plans I’ve had for the longest time.
Ever since my father told me I’d never amount to anything.
I’ve spent more than a decade proving him wrong, providing for my mother, my staff, thousands of employees around the world.
As I make my way through Sage’s hotel, my gaze catches on the theater. Workers are installing a new sign on the marquee:
STONE
Two Weeks Only at The Extravagant!
That piques my interest. The rock star did a one-night-only show here last month that was the talk of the town. And that show set The Extravagant on the path it’s on now as the it hotel. And the feel-good hotel too, since the Carmichael sisters donated 10 percent of the profits from that show to local charities, causes for the arts for children, for literacy, and for local hospitals. That’s their thing. That’s what they’re known for. The pillars of this city.
They’re things I ought to do at The Invitation too.
But first, this show makes me think about what it’d be like to have someone of his caliber at my hotel. I make a mental note to run this up the flagpole with Daniel when I see him in a few minutes.
An A-list rocker like that could be a coup for The Invitation.
That’s exactly where all my energy needs to go. Not on the sexy, filthy, fascinating woman who runs the it hotel, the feel-good property on the Strip.
But I can still taste her kiss on my lips.
Can still hear her sexy murmurs.
Can still picture the arch of her back, feel the shudder of her body.
And just like that, I’m aroused again.
Not helpful.
Best to put her out of my head entirely.
Focus on plans for my business.
Plans I’m reminded of as I return to my hotel and a text flashes across my screen from my good friend Wilder in San Francisco, who recently purchased the city’s NFL franchise, the Renegades.
* * *
Wilder: We’re going to be playing the Vegas Hawks in two months. Plan on destroying them on the gridiron. What do you think the chances are I could get a discount for my players on some rooms in the city?
* * *
I laugh as I pass through the revolving doors into my hotel.
I reply like the asshole I am.
* * *
Cole: I hear the Motel 8 off the Strip is running discounts for washed-up football teams.
* * *
Wilder: That settles it. I will indeed take the deal that the Carmichael sisters are offering me at The Extravagant.
* * *
I bristle as I read that text. No fucking way. She’s angling for my business with my friend?
That shit is not okay. Wilder and his playoff-winning team are mine to score.
I burn with frustration as I step onto the escalator heading down to the casino floor. This is not the time to text. This is the time for a phone call. But I don’t need everyone to overhear. I step off, say hello to a few dealers, and spot the high rollers club. I walk in, give a quick nod to the manager running it, then signal that I need to use the back room.
Quickly, with the kind of alacrity that I like, the manager opens the door, lets me in, and says, “The room is yours for as long as you need it, sir.”
I thank Angeline, pull the door shut, and ring my friend in California. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He cackles. “Aww. Jealousy looks good on you, dickhead.”
My jaw ticks. Just fucked the woman, and she might win this contract. And yet, weirdly, a part of me is turned on by this competition of sorts with her. Riddle me that. “Level with me. Are we truly in contention with The Extravagant?”