Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

VAR

" W hat the hell is going on in here?"

After a quick meeting with the front of the house staff in the gambling ballroom, I headed through the lobby of the club and noticed the distinct lack of activity. While the exclusive club gambling room would not open until later, there were still the restaurant, private hotel rooms, and the new spa run by Brynn on the property.

Despite the early hour, there should be at least one or two security guards.

And my sommelier had missed the meeting as well.

Heading back to the office, intent on reaching out to Polina about any recent schedule changes, I first heard the laughter.

No one laughed in my office.

As I rounded the corner into the open antechamber lounge to my public office, I found half of my staff milling about.

And then I heard her.

"So then I said, ‘But Officer! These are Manolos!'"

The men in the room burst into another round of laughter.

Through their shoulders, I glimpsed Vivian holding court at a desk. At least, I was looking at Vivian; I was fairly certain my men were staring at her tits, which were on marvelous display.

Vivian clasped her hands together in delight, which only pushed her boobs up further. "And that's how three Chicago police officers stopped traffic on Randolph Street to save my high heels."

More laughter.

Pulling my GSh-18 semi-automatic pistol out of its shoulder holster, I fired a single round into the floor, knowing the thick, reinforced cement below the polished wood would harmlessly capture the bullet.

"Get the fuck away from her!" I bellowed.

They scattered like rats.

Vivian slowly rose. "Was that necessary?"

I holstered the gun. "Very." Nodding, I asked, "Where did this come from?"

Vivian ran her hands along the edge of the desk. "Isn't it great? Some of the boys were nice enough to retrieve it for me from an empty office."

Some of the boys?

My arm moved toward my gun again, tempted to chase the helpful boys down and put a bullet in them. I just bet they were eager to help her out.

"Nice isn't exactly the word I would use." My gaze traveled over her. "What are you wearing?"

Her chin rose as she smoothed her hands over her gorgeous hips. "I happen to like this outfit. It's very Mad Men ."

The black dress hugged every curve. On a normal woman, the collar would be respectable, but on Vivian's pin-up girl, wet dream body, it was borderline pornographic.

My blood boiled at the idea of other men coming into the office to ogle her. "This is an office. Put on a jacket or something."

She crossed her arms under her chest, which only made the problem worse. "I don't have a jacket."

My cock stirred to life as I buttoned my suit coat to hide my uncontrolled reaction to her presence. I was no better than my own men. "I have an extra suit in my office. You can put on the jacket."

She frowned. "I'm not ruining my outfit by wearing your big jacket over it."

"Then go home and change."

"That will take at least two hours. It took forever to find street parking this morning. I'll never find another spot."

"Why didn't you park in the garage?"

"Because I didn't have the code."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Tell me again how having a secretary was supposed to reduce my stress?"

She squared her shoulders. "I prefer assistant."

"Woman!" Storming around the desk, I snatched her upper arm.

She dug in her heels. "What are you doing? I'm not going anywhere. You promised me this job!"

"I'm taking you shopping," I ground out.

Her face brightened as she grabbed her purse from the corner of the desk. "Oh! Well, that's different."

As we rode the elevator down to the private level of the parking garage, I stared ahead, knowing that if I looked right at her, I would slam my fist against the emergency button just so I could fuck her senseless.

Rubbing my jaw, I said, "We need to get a few things straight. You do nothing and go nowhere inside the Four Monks without my permission. Is that understood?"

Her lower lip pushed out in a pout. "I needed a desk."

I turned on her, hands on my hips. "I'll decide what you need."

Her eyes widened.

We both caught the double entendre.

My gaze moved to her lips, then her cleavage.

Inhaling through the elevated tension in the air, I stepped toward her.

At that moment, the elevator doors opened.

She scurried around my side and practically ran out of the elevator car.

Despite being less than five blocks away, I drove her to the luxury 900 North Michigan shops. Only tourists walked around Chicago.

As we pulled up directly in front of the shops, Vivian stretched out her arm. "The parking garage entrance is around the corner."

I turned off the Range Rover. "This is fine."

"But it's right on Michigan Avenue."

I raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"The cops will tow you in a heartbeat. You can't leave your car here."

The corner of my mouth lifted as I closed my door and circled around the car to open hers. "Get out of the car, Vivian."

As she did so, she muttered under her breath, "Must be nice to have fuck around and find out money."

I wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed my mouth against the side of her head to whisper in her ear, "And don't you forget it."

Taking Vivian shopping was like watching a toddler experience their first Christmas while hopped up on candy.

While in Bloomingdale's, she ran from one rack to another holding up dresses.

And one after another, I shook my head.

Either it would be too tight, too short, or too revealing.

Never in a fucking million years did I think I'd go shopping with a woman, let alone complain about her purchasing a dress that was too revealing.

Flipping through the hangers myself, I muttered, "You need something in an A-line with a high collar."

She paused and stared up at me.

I shrugged. "What? My business partner Mac has a sister. I've known her since she was a teenager."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure that's where you get all your fashion knowledge, from your friend's little sister, not from a constant stream of models in and out of your bed. Funny coincidence, that's how I know you're wearing a custom Armani suit from last season's fall collection. A ‘friend's little brother,'" she said with air quotes. Her full lips twisted in a smirk. "I totally don't know it from another man or anything."

Seeing red, I cornered her against a wall of furs. "What was that?"

She blinked. "What was what?"

I cupped her jaw and tilted her head back as I pressed my hips into her. "Did you just mention another man in my presence?"

"You're my new boss, not my boyfriend, Var."

"I'm the man you're fucking."

Her gaze narrowed. "You're the man I fucked . That was a one-time thing. It will not happen again."

"Twice."

"What?"

"We've fucked twice. More if you count when I licked your?—"

She placed her hands against my chest. "Oh, my God, shut up! We're in public."

"And?"

"And it's not appropriate."

"If you don't want me to mention your pussy, then don't wear a dress with your tits hanging out."

"For the last time, my tits are not hanging out of this dress! It's perfectly respectable. It's just your lecherous mind."

I leaned my forearm against the fur coats, already picturing what it would be like to fuck her lying naked on one. "Want to know what else my lecherous mind is thinking?"

"Absolutely not," she huffed as she ducked under my arm and raced across the store to the dress racks on the other side.

After much haggling, we settled on a cobalt blue and cream Altuzarra long pleated dress. Although I wasn't happy about it being sleeveless. "You need a coat."

She selected a cropped jacket from a nearby rack. "How about this?"

I selected a long, shimmering orange trench coat. "How about this?"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Mango! Bold choice, Var. I like it."

This should have been a colossal waste of time. I had a thousand infinitely more important things I needed to be doing. And yet it wasn't.

Why did men complain about shopping with women so much? I was actually having fun. It was like dressing my very own Barbie doll.

My gaze lit on a short Balmain dress with black lace in a python print over ivory silk. "Here. Try this on."

As she reached for the dress, she held it in front of her and raised an eyebrow. "My new uniform?"

My voice lowered an octave as I cleared my throat. "Just try it on. I'll go pay for the other dress so you can wear it out."

With a saucy smile, she swished her hips as she crossed to the nearby dressing rooms.

After paying for the dress and trench coat, I went in search of her. "Vivian?"

"Over here. I need help with my zipper."

A wood-paneled dressing room door swung open, and she peeked her head out.

Setting the purchases aside, I stood in the doorway.

Without her usual sky-high heels on, she was a good five inches shorter. Already barely above my shoulder in her shoes, she was now considerably shorter… and absolutely adorable.

She pointed to the zipper as she stretched her arm behind her. "I can't quite reach."

I stepped forward and closed the door behind me. Grasping the zipper, I slowly lowered it, skimming her skin with the back of my fingers. I then slipped my fingers into the arm strap and pushed it over her shoulder as my mouth caressed the outer shell of her ear.

Her breath hitched as she leaned back against my chest.

Wrapping my hand around her neck from behind, I gently bit her earlobe. "I'm always happy to help you out of a dress, krasivaya ."

Then a frigid blast of awareness hit me.

My hands cupped her shoulders as I turned her to face me with a frown. "Who zipped it up?"

She held the dress to her chest. "What?"

I leaned down, using my height to intimidate her. "Who zipped up your dress this morning?"

"Not that it's any of your business, boss, but I did."

"I don't believe you. What's his name?"

"There is no him. I zipped my dress up."

"How?"

She sighed. "If you must know, women have their ways, but it involved a lot of inelegant bending over and swiveling that wouldn't be possible in this small dressing room. Happy?"

Not giving a damn about her glossy red lipstick, I pushed her against the mirror and claimed her mouth. She tasted like strawberry jam and peppermint as my tongue pushed past her lips.

Fuck, I loved kissing her.

I had to admit, before Vivian, I hadn't really thought much about kissing. It was a necessary part of foreplay and not much else to me.

But now? Now I could kiss this woman all day and almost be satisfied.

It was the unconscious way she shifted her hips against me and the tiny little whimpers that escaped her throat as her hands clung to me that really did it for me.

We were both breathless when I pulled back.

Slipping my hand inside my coat jacket, I pulled out a white linen handkerchief and swiped it across my lips, relishing the red stain left behind as I tucked it in half and put it back in my pocket for safekeeping. "Now, I'm happy. Or at least I will be when you put on that dress I asked to see."

Turning her back on me, she stared at her flushed and thoroughly kissed reflection, raising her fingertips to her swollen and smudged lips. God, she was beautiful.

After a moment, she took a deep breath and pushed back her shoulders. "Get out so I can put it on."

"No."

Her head tilted to the side as she put a hand on her hip while the other hand continued to hold her unzipped dress over her breasts. "Var, I'm not having sex with you in a Bloomingdale's dressing room!"

"Who said anything about sex?"

Her gaze went to the outline of my hard cock pressing against my suit trousers. "Your cock is speaking volumes."

"Fair enough." I raised my hand, palm out. "I promise I won't jump you. Now try the dress on."

I immediately regretted my promise as I watched her shimmy her hips to let the dress she was wearing fall to the floor, exposing a matching pair of pale pink panties and bra before bending over to step into the python lace dress.

As she pulled the straps over her shoulders, I stepped forward.

She held up her hand. "You promised."

Dammit.

With the ivory silk, the dress made it look like all she was wearing was a sheath of sheer black lace. There was no fucking way I would ever let her appear in public wearing it. In private however…

With her hands on her hips, she tilted her body to one side. "Satisfied?"

Not even close.

I shoved the garment bag with the other dress toward her. "Put this on. I'm going to be late for a meeting."

Storming out of the dressing room, I leaned against a nearby wall and ran the heel of my palm along my hard shaft through my trousers, trying to ease the ache.

The moment she emerged from the dressing room, I nodded. "Let's go."

"Wait!" She gestured to the cobalt blue pleated dress. "I can't go like this."

"What's wrong?"

She drew the hem of the dress up to just above her knee.

I had to close my eyes briefly and count to three to prevent myself from lunging at her and yanking at the hem of her pretty pink panties.

Vivian pointed to her black shoes. "The shoes don't match."

Now I know why men find shopping with their woman torture.