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But I’m hardly paying attention to anything else going on in the room.

My gaze is set on one thing and one thing only—Portia gracefully makes her way down the stage stairs and damn near takes my breath away.

The dress she’s wearing is sinful.

It highlights how delicious a figure she has. Bare shoulders exposed with a hint of cleavage to make matters worse, the bodice portion of the dress cinches at the waist. The draped skirt shows off her hips and the slit up the front teases some thigh.

The emerald-green color looks heavenly on her brown skin.

My pulse picks up and the heat of arousal floods me.

Possibly the worst place considering we’re in a crowded room of a hundred.

Her signature dark red lip finishes off the look that’s got me as distracted as she was by me. If only she had any idea what she does to me. If she knew how often she’s on my mind.

I remember all too well what she looks like underneath that dress. I have vivid memories of her soft naked body writhing in my bed as I pleasured her. Images I’ll hold onto until I’m an old man on his death bed.

Everything from the face she makes when she orgasms to the breathy noises she makes when she’s close to coming. I can still feel those sexy legs wrapped around me and that perfect pussy of hers clenched around my dick…

I snatch up the glass of champagne that’s been poured and drain it whole.

She’s taken her seat two tables over with the rest of the foundation’s members.

Adagio nudges me in the side. “Stop staring. You’re coming off like a creep.”

I barely move my lips answering. “I’ll be whatever I have to be to get her back.”

“Get her back? Did you ever have her?”

His question goes ignored.

Once Cheryl finishes her speech, we enter the dinner portion of the night. The rest of the lights in the dining room return and servers appear from all sides to deliver the first course to everyone.

An idea strikes me.

I slide out of my chair and stroll two tables over.

There happens to be an empty seat at the foundation’s table.

“Good evening, ladies,” I say in a brash tone. “Thank you for having me. Would you mind if I join you for dinner?”

All four women’s faces light up except for Portia. Cheryl answers first. “Of course, Mr. Calderone! Please do. You’re the guest of honor.”

“That seat was reserved for Keisha,” Portia says.

“And Keisha called in sick, Portia,” Cheryl snaps with an irritated glance. Her smile returns when she looks back at me. “Mr. Calderone has donated millions to our cause. I’m sure even if Keisha were here she wouldn’t mind switching him seats.”

“I’m happy for the opportunity to contribute. It’s a very important cause.”

“Wait a second,” says a chubby-cheeked woman from across the table. “Portia, you work for Newport Metro News. Mr. Calderone, I read in the paper you’re purchasing the network.”

Humor flickers across my face. “That’s right. Another very important endeavor of mine. How could I let the network go under when it has such talent like Ms. James here?”

“I have to take this call.”

Portia pulls the same move she had at the meeting last week. Her chair scoots back and she’s up on her feet in a flash, striding away.

It may have worked the first time, but it won’t the second. Even if I have to pick her up over my shoulder and stop her from leaving.