Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
But Angie is different, and I’m not sure what it is. It could be her looks, but all the women I sleep with are gorgeous. There have been a plethora of models, actresses, and other professionally-beautiful women who grace the pages of magazines every day, so I don’t think it’s her looks alone.
It could also be Angela’s demure personality mixed with sparks of verve, but we don’t know each other well enough for me to know for certain. But I want to know more, and I guess that’s the rub. The curvy girl’s a mystery to me, and that’s probably what draws me in. It’s her vivacious smile paired with big blue eyes that also carry a hint of shadow deep inside. Something is pulling me to this female, and I want to know what it is.
Then again, I’m acting like a fucking lunatic because there is no “drinks event.” I mean, there is, but it’s certainly not something that requires extra help from my Austin household. It’s a shindig that I manufactured out of thin air in order to have an excuse to spend time with my sexy housekeeper. I want to keep Angela in my vicinity, and I want an excuse to talk with her. I want to watch the young woman at work, and bringing her to New York for this sham event is the perfect opportunity.
Of course, there will be a party, make no mistake. Guests aren’t a problem when you’re a billionaire, and although I have no true “friends,” people will come just to ogle my penthouse while critiquing my décor. But I don’t give a shit because Angela’s the real reason I’m hosting this thing, and what other people say or do is of no interest to me.
Unfortunately, these past few days in New York haven’t gone as planned. We stepped off my private plane at JFK and were escorted by limo to the apartment, which is a gorgeous space on the top floor of a pre-war building bordering Central Park. There are five bedrooms and five baths, as well as a formal dining room, living room, two maids’ rooms, and a full-size kitchen and attached butler’s pantry. But the best part of the penthouse is the attached terrace, which overlooks Central Park. The views are sweeping, and the grandeur of the vista can never be denied. Come Thanksgiving, there’s also a firsthand view of the Macy’s parade, and the overall feeling is one of overwhelming fun and good fortune.
But Angela hardly noticed because she went to work immediately. She began speaking with my butler in New York, and they put their heads together to get the party-planning going. As a result, I’ve hardly seen the curvy girl this past week. I’ve caught glimpses here and there, as she instructs the staff, and I’ve overheard her voice on the phone as I walk the halls. But nothing more. We haven’t had a private moment, which I suppose is to be expected since she’s working.
But now, it’s the night of the party, and my guests are enjoying themselves. Handsome men and beautiful women mill about on the terrace, laughing and talking with drinks in their hands. A makeshift bar is set up in the corner, complete with a bartender with his sleeves rolled up, and lilting music plays from an invisible sound system. It’s a gorgeous night too, with a deep blue expanse of sky overhead, lit only by small pinpricks of light. Central Park is spread out below per usual, its lush greenery cloaked in a velvety black.
“So Dom,” a woman purrs at my left. “What have you been up to? We haven’t seen you in New York for ages.”
I shoot her a perfunctory smile. What was her name again? Melissa, I think.
“I’ve been busy in Texas,” I say in a smooth tone. “Re-locating a company as big as Regeneron AI is never easy, and I needed to be there myself to oversee the process.”
“But surely it’s done now,” a blonde titters to my left. When I shoot her a look, she literally shimmies a bit, making her tits bounce. “You’ll be spending more time with us now, right?”
To be honest, their overt flirtation turns me off. I prefer subtlety, dynamism, and a certain sass mixed with innocence. By contrast, these women are practically ready to strip off their dresses before heading inside for an intimate threesome in the master bedroom. So I merely incline my head, ready to say something when a movement off to the left catches my eye.
Is that ...?
It is, and a frown marks my stern features.
“What are you looking at, Dom?” the blonde asks, turning to see where I’m glowering. Of course, the woman would never notice the help and remains clueless.
“Did we miss something?” the brunette burbles, also scanning the crowd in that direction. “Did a celebrity arrive? A movie star? Oh my god, could it be Taylor Lake, the new bachelor? I heard he’s to die for.”