Page 154
Story: King of Envy
My office at Valhalla was really a suite of rooms that included the actual office, a sitting area, an ensuite bathroom, and even a bedroom with a view of the landscaped grounds. I rarely used it, but it came in handy today.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I sent your dress down for dry cleaning while you were, uh, busy,” I said. Ayana had stayed in the bathroom after our shower and spent quite a while on her after-shower beauty routine. “It’ll be ready in a few hours. In the meantime, you can choose a new outfit from the closet.”
The last word barely left my mouth before she bounded to her feet and beelined to the walk-in wardrobe. “Do you always keep women’s clothes in your office?” she teased. She threw open the doors, her face lighting up at the wealth of options awaiting her.
I grunted. “They’re for you. I called the club’s in-house stylist and had her bring up some options while you were in the bathroom.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” But Ayana was already deep in the closet, her voice muffled by layers of silk and cashmere. She reappeared a minute later with wide eyes and a silky gold dress in hand. “Vuk. This a ten-thousand-dollar dress.”
“Yes.” When she continued to gape at me, my brows furrowed. “Too cheap?”
“Tooexpensive.” She rubbed the material between her fingers. “This designer only makes ten of each dress. It’s not something you throw on while you’re waiting for your dry cleaning.”
Ten of each dress sounded like a stupid business decision, but I kept that to myself.
“It’s just a dress,srce,” I said, amused. “Unless you don’t like it, in which case I can have someone bring more options.”
“No.” Ayana clutched the dress to her chest. “This is perfect. Don’t you dare take it from me.”
“You’re the supermodel. I thought you’d be used to ten-thousand-dollar dresses,” I teased.
“Listen, that stuff is for the runway. I love a good exclusive piece, but I don’t walk around in couture every day. That’s just asking to get robbed.” She took off her bathrobe and slipped into the dress. It fit her perfectly.
“If someone tries to rob you, shoot them,” I said. “But try to hitthemand not an innocent bystander.”
I laughed when she pinned me with a playful glare. She threw a wadded-up piece of tissue paper at me. I easily caught it with one hand.
“What are you doing next Friday?” I asked.
“It’s Maya’s birthday. She’s throwing a big party to celebrate.” Ayana came over and sat next to me on the bed. “You’re invited too. You should come.”
The only Maya I knew was Maya Singh. I liked her well enough, but I hated birthday parties.
I made a noncommittal noise. “Maybe.”
“Why? What’s going on next Friday?” Ayana asked.
“I was planning on making D.C. up to you then, but we can push it to the Friday after next.”
“Um.” I felt the heat pouring off her cheeks. “I thought that was what the elevator was for.”
“I like to be thorough in my apologies.”
Another smile surfaced at her flustered expression. I didn’t have more sex planned for my “official” apology—though I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to the idea—but a knock on the outer office door interrupted our conversation before I could clarify.
A notification popped up on my phone, reminding me of my scheduled appointment. Shit. I’d forgotten all about it.
“Excuse me. I have a quick meeting I need to take, but make yourself at home,” I said. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t worry,” Ayana reassured me. “I’ll keep myself entertained.”
I left the bedroom and closed the door behind me. Dominic Davenport strode in right as I sank into the seat behind my desk.
“You wanted to see me.” He took the chair opposite mine and leaned back, his expression cool. In his custom-tailored suit and perfectly knotted tie, he was the picture of a Wall Street titan.
He also didn’t insist on small talk. I liked that about him.
I wrote my reply on a sheet of paper.I need you to trace a money trail for me.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I sent your dress down for dry cleaning while you were, uh, busy,” I said. Ayana had stayed in the bathroom after our shower and spent quite a while on her after-shower beauty routine. “It’ll be ready in a few hours. In the meantime, you can choose a new outfit from the closet.”
The last word barely left my mouth before she bounded to her feet and beelined to the walk-in wardrobe. “Do you always keep women’s clothes in your office?” she teased. She threw open the doors, her face lighting up at the wealth of options awaiting her.
I grunted. “They’re for you. I called the club’s in-house stylist and had her bring up some options while you were in the bathroom.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” But Ayana was already deep in the closet, her voice muffled by layers of silk and cashmere. She reappeared a minute later with wide eyes and a silky gold dress in hand. “Vuk. This a ten-thousand-dollar dress.”
“Yes.” When she continued to gape at me, my brows furrowed. “Too cheap?”
“Tooexpensive.” She rubbed the material between her fingers. “This designer only makes ten of each dress. It’s not something you throw on while you’re waiting for your dry cleaning.”
Ten of each dress sounded like a stupid business decision, but I kept that to myself.
“It’s just a dress,srce,” I said, amused. “Unless you don’t like it, in which case I can have someone bring more options.”
“No.” Ayana clutched the dress to her chest. “This is perfect. Don’t you dare take it from me.”
“You’re the supermodel. I thought you’d be used to ten-thousand-dollar dresses,” I teased.
“Listen, that stuff is for the runway. I love a good exclusive piece, but I don’t walk around in couture every day. That’s just asking to get robbed.” She took off her bathrobe and slipped into the dress. It fit her perfectly.
“If someone tries to rob you, shoot them,” I said. “But try to hitthemand not an innocent bystander.”
I laughed when she pinned me with a playful glare. She threw a wadded-up piece of tissue paper at me. I easily caught it with one hand.
“What are you doing next Friday?” I asked.
“It’s Maya’s birthday. She’s throwing a big party to celebrate.” Ayana came over and sat next to me on the bed. “You’re invited too. You should come.”
The only Maya I knew was Maya Singh. I liked her well enough, but I hated birthday parties.
I made a noncommittal noise. “Maybe.”
“Why? What’s going on next Friday?” Ayana asked.
“I was planning on making D.C. up to you then, but we can push it to the Friday after next.”
“Um.” I felt the heat pouring off her cheeks. “I thought that was what the elevator was for.”
“I like to be thorough in my apologies.”
Another smile surfaced at her flustered expression. I didn’t have more sex planned for my “official” apology—though I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to the idea—but a knock on the outer office door interrupted our conversation before I could clarify.
A notification popped up on my phone, reminding me of my scheduled appointment. Shit. I’d forgotten all about it.
“Excuse me. I have a quick meeting I need to take, but make yourself at home,” I said. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t worry,” Ayana reassured me. “I’ll keep myself entertained.”
I left the bedroom and closed the door behind me. Dominic Davenport strode in right as I sank into the seat behind my desk.
“You wanted to see me.” He took the chair opposite mine and leaned back, his expression cool. In his custom-tailored suit and perfectly knotted tie, he was the picture of a Wall Street titan.
He also didn’t insist on small talk. I liked that about him.
I wrote my reply on a sheet of paper.I need you to trace a money trail for me.
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