Gloria's Secret (12 page)

“So, Gloria, tell me something about yourself that I haven’t already read on the Internet.”

“What exactly do you know about me?” I countered.

“Not much…Self-made business woman extraordinaire. Built Gloria’s Secret into a billion-dollar company from the ground up.”

This was true. After Kevin and I touched down in LA, we stayed at a rundown Hollywood motel until we found a charming two-bedroom apartment to share in Beachwood Canyon. We were able to secure it with a first and last month deposit from the money we had stolen from Boris. Kevin quickly found work as the manager of a hot Hollywood night club, frequented by celebrities, and I, once recovered from my gunshot wound, used the money to rent some studio space downtown and to purchase bolts of lace and silk as well as a dozen used sewing machines and necessary supplies. Once settled in, I hired a handful of talented, eager to work laborers to stitch up my lingerie designs. I shortly found a small, affordable storefront on Hollywood Boulevard to sell my wares. Gorgeous French-inspired lingerie at a reasonable price.

With the help of Kevin, who sent the “beautiful people” who frequented his club to my no-name boutique, my business boomed. Women and men alike fell in love with the innovative, sexy, and reasonably priced undergarments; it became the word-of-mouth, in-the-know place to shop for lingerie…leading me to call my boutique, Gloria’s Secret. With my success, I was able to secure a small business loan and six months later, I opened the flagship store, Gloria’s Secret, in the Beverly Center, a popular LA mall. The store was an overnight success; a catalogue followed along with a robust website. Kevin quit his job to become my partner and head of Public Relations and Marketing. One year later, enter billionaire businessman Victor Holden, who smelled a winner, invested millions, and took the company public. The rest is history. One store grew to thousands worldwide and a billionaire dollar a year business.

I took another sip of my wine. Meeting Jaime’s gaze, I didn’t go into details. “What you see is what you get.”

“So far, I like what I’ve seen.” He paused. “And I like what I’ve gotten.”

The double entendres weren’t lost on me. I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs under the table to quell the twitching sensation between them.

“But what’s that scar on your chest?”

My breath caught in my throat. I almost spit up the wine. He
had
noticed the scar. The reminder of everything I wanted to forget.

“None of your business,” I snapped at him.

“Ah, so Gloria has a secret.”

Damn him! He was unnerving me. There was no way I was going to open up to this man about my past. That one regrettable moment in time. I didn’t want to go there. It was bad enough to live it every waking hour and in my dreams. I quickly changed the subject, focusing on him.

“So, Mr. Zander, tell me, how did you get into advertising?”

“I had a talent. An artistic one. Rather than going to college, I came East and set up meetings with one ad agency after another to show them my portfolio.”

I was intrigued. “And then what happened?”

“I got hired by one of the major Madison Avenue agencies—which I’m sure you’ve met with—to be an art director. While I was touted as a wunderkind, the corporate world was not for me. Too many rules; too much bullshit. I stuck it out for five years, then finally called it quits. A few key clients left with me. Long story short…they rounded up some investor money, and I started ZAP!
Z
ander
A
nd
P
eople.”

He was self-made like me. I was awed, but didn’t show it. “So, how did you become a billionaire?”

“Ah, so you fooled me. You’ve done your research too. I’m impressed.”

I wasn’t about to tell him that Vivien leaked this tidbit to me though it was fairly obvious.

He sipped his wine. “I inherited several million dollars from my mother, and during the recession a few years ago, I made some lucky investments.”

“So you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

“Hardly.” Jaime’s tone darkened. “My mother married someone very wealthy when I was thirteen.”

“It must have been fun being a rich kid.”

“Money comes with benefits. It also comes with baggage.”

“Oh, is that your tagline for your poor little rich boy poster?”

Jaime’s eyes flared, making me immediately regret what I’d just said. His somber expression suggested that his childhood memories, like mine, might not be happy ones. Perhaps, he was harboring some dark secret too. I flashed back to the faint white marks on his back. Scars? Before I could say a word, the steak tartare and artichoke arrived. Jaime’s face brightened. The attentive waiter refilled our wine goblets and then scurried off.

I imbibed more wine. The smooth, rich liquid poured down my throat and coursed through my bloodstream. I was loosening up.
Slow down, Gloria. You don’t want to get drunk.

Jaime cut off the voice of my inner conscious. “Spread your lips, ” I heard him say.

I found myself spreading my legs.

Jaime let out a sexy little laugh. “I was referring to your mouth. I want to give you your first taste of the steak tartare.”

I felt flushed with embarrassment. He was affecting me again. The area between my inner thighs was getting hot and wet. This was not supposed to be happening. I was losing control!

“Excuse me, I have to use the restroom,” I said, leaping to my feet. I needed to get away from him. Compose myself. Focus on business.

“It’s in the front of the restaurant, up the stairs,” he said, eyeing my body. “I’ll be here waiting for you.”

I felt his eyes on me the entire time as I made my way to the packed front room and up a rickety spiral staircase. There was a long waiting line to the ladies’ room.

A portly, dark-haired woman who resembled a gypsy was stationed at a table outside it. “Let me tell you your fortune, my dear,” she called out to me.

Usually, I never did these kinds of things, thinking they were shams, but tonight my unease tempted me, and I really didn’t want to wait in line.

I lowered myself into the worn velvet chair facing her.

“You are very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I said as she studied my face.

“Your eyes, one brown, one blue, tell me a lot about you. You are two very different people who share the same face. A woman of contradictions. One side of you is light and seductive, the other dark and secretive.”

I inwardly gasped. How did she know?

“Let me see your palm.” She grasped my right hand and flipped it so that my palm was in full view.

Her eyes grew wide.

“What is it?” My voice was shaky

“You are losing control of your life. There is a man.”

Christ! Jaime Zander was written all over my hand.

She shook her head and bit down her lip. Her gaze slowly met mine. “I usually tell people good things they want to hear, but I must tell you the truth.”

My heart hammered.

“You are in grave danger. Someone is out to get you.”

I shuddered. Boris Borofosky! I’d heard enough. I jumped up from the chair and hurried to the restroom. Thankfully, it was now free.

With my dress raised to my thighs and my panties and garter lowered to my knees, I sat on the toilet longer than I needed. I was shaking. Was Boris on my trail? Was he seeking revenge? Was my life in danger? Wait! That wasn’t possible. I knew from Madame Paulette that he didn’t even know my name. So, he couldn’t possibly know where I lived or what I did. Or where I was this very minute. I took a deep calming breath. Besides, that woman was probably a charlatan though she did seem to know the effect Jaime Zander was having on me. Yes, he was making me lose control, but by hell or high water, I was going to put an end to that tonight. Yet, at the very thought of him, the pulsing between my thighs intensified, and I could feel myself heating. I dragged my hand over my cleft. The folds were even hotter and wetter than I imagined. My fingertips could actually feel the throbbing. For a minute, I thought about masturbating, to put myself out of my glorious misery. Instead, I peed and washed up. My hormones were back to raging. Damn that man!

Jaime’s eyes contemplated me as I headed back to the table.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he rose to his feet and pulled out my chair.

“Yes.” In truth, I was all hot and bothered.

“Good.” Returning to his seat, he refilled our wine glasses. There was a roguish glint in his eyes.

“So let’s pick up where we left off.” He scooped up a forkful of the steak tartare. “Now, part your lips, Gloria.”

Again, the sexy command. This time I did as he asked. My lips spread apart.

“I love fine raw meat,” he purred as he shoveled a taste of the rare delicacy into my mouth. The velvety, moist meat laced with a hint of Worcestershire sauce was beyond delicious. It totally obliterated any trace of Boris in my head. I immediately wanted more. The gorgeous mind reader fed me another heaping forkful. I swallowed. Tingles rose from my core.

He helped himself to a taste. He savored it before swallowing. “Did you know that steak tartare is an aphrodisiac?”

“I read that somewhere.” Being in the sexy lingerie business, I was actually quite knowledgeable about what turned women on. And right now, I was fucking turned on. I wanted this gorgeous man to ravage me.

I jolted. Under the table, I felt something slide under my dress and snake up my thigh-high silk stocking past my garters to my middle. Holy Fuck! It was his bare foot, and it was running circles over my mound.

“Ah, Gloria, your pussy feels so hot and wet beneath those lace panties of yours.” He paused. “They are powder blue, right?” he asked with a roguish grin.

“Yes,” I gasped. His foot was now rubbing hard against my clit. I was getting more feverish by the second as he pushed me toward the edge. My fingers clutched the corners of the white-linen covered table.

“I think you should stop,” I said between clenched teeth.

“There’s a difference between I think and I want. Do you
want
me to stop?”

“Yes,” I said breathily.

“Your mouth says ‘yes,’ but your pussy screams ‘no.’”

Oh, God! This man got me. He continued massaging, adding vertical strokes up and down my soaking wet cleft. The pleasure and pressure were so intense I thought I would yelp. I dug my fingernails into the table and chewed my lip, trying hard not to scream. Jesus, how would I look if I broke loose?

Jaime shot me a cocky, confident smile. I wanted to rip it off his face with my teeth.

“Gloria, you want to lose control. Do it!” he commanded as he jabbed his big toe into my pussy.

I exploded. Ripples of ecstasy swept through me. It took all my willpower not to scream out. “Oh, God!” I moaned under my breath.

His satisfied eyes bore into me. “Now, it’s time to move onto the steamy artichoke, another natural aphrodisiac.”

Barely recovered from my mind-blowing orgasm, I eyed the thistle-leafed delicacy sitting in the middle of the table and jolted again. Beneath the table, a hand clutched my calf. Fuck! My turn to play footsy? My already rapid heartbeat accelerated as he maneuvered off my silver sandal and placed my foot on the mound between his legs. His steamy delicacy. The warmth of his swell beneath my sole intensified the throbbing between my inner thighs.

He began rubbing my foot up and down his arousal. I could feel it harden and swell beneath my arch. He hissed. There was nothing I could do with him holding my foot prisoner but wait anxiously for him to come.

And then the movements below ceased. My foot rested on his erection. The sole of my foot was burning.

His glimmering eyes burned a hole in mine. “I’m not going to force you make me come. That would be too much for me here. Too embarrassing. I just want to remind you what you do to me, my beautiful angel.”

Oh my God. He called me “angel.” His beautiful angel. My heart was melting like the candle on the table. How could one man, one word, do this to me?

Still holding my foot on his length, he peeled off an outer leaf of the large artichoke with his spare hand and dipped the tender edge into the side of melted butter. He raised the leaf, dripping with butter, to my lips. My breath hitched.

“Suck!” he ordered.

I clenched my teeth around the soft buttery artichoke meat and sucked it off the leaf. He discarded the remains onto his plate. With his index finger, he gently wiped off the little bit of butter that had fallen onto my lower lip. He inserted his butter-coated finger into his mouth and moaned.

“Now, you feed me a buttery leaf.”

I peeled off a large outer leaf and repeated his action.

“Mmmm. Perfection,” purred Jaime, rolling his tongue over his lush upper lip.

We continued this back and forth consumption of the artichoke until we were down to the heart.

“The heart is the very best part,” he proclaimed, his eyes now hooded.

I simply nodded, my foot still resting upon his hard, hot cock. I was in a trance. My head was spinning, and my blood was looping through my body like a rollercoaster.
Hold on, Gloria

“Did you know that a woman’s heart is her real G-spot? You hit that and everything comes apart.”

Trembling, I watched as he stabbed his fork into the fuzzy artichoke center
.

“Gloria, I want to win your account. Your cunt. And your heart.”

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t say a word even if I knew what to say.

“And I’m going to win each. One by one, starting with your account.”

I impulsively withdrew my foot from his erection
. Business
. It was time to talk business. That’s what this dinner was all about. I reinforced myself with a deep breath.

“Mr. Zander, if you are planning on doing business with me—that is, if you indeed have the good fortune of winning the Gloria’s Secret account—then I suggest we keep our relationship purely professional.”

He burst into laughter, totally unnerving me once again.

“Come on, Gloria. Can you can seriously sit here and say you don’t want me?”

I was speechless. Flushed and speechless.