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I should have guessed that a woman in her position would have the eyes of a cat. The kind of cat that sees every little detail and knows how to work it to her advantage. She calls June and Chelsea over so she can whisper something into their ears. There is nothing subtle in the way they both look at us.

Now it’s my turn to lean in toward someone. Namely, Kathleen’s. “We’re being targeted.”

Kathleen glances at the trio of conspirators. “What do you mean? They want to…?”

“They’re businesswomen, and we’re taking up their time. They’re going to try to get into our wallets, darling.”

“Both of us? At the same time?”

There’s only one way to find out. I swing my arm around Kathleen’s shoulders and bring her in for a kiss.

Chapter 45

Kathleen

What the fuck, Ira!

She’s pushing me into the couch, kissing me, my hand instinctively touching her face as I accept her tongue deep in my mouth. I don’t realize the implications of what she’s done until she breaks away, settling back into the couch as if she hasn’t done a damned thing.

Now everyone is looking at us. Nobody is shocked, but they are definitely interested in seeing if we continue. I kinda forgot where we are.

Once my senses return to me, I smack Ira on the leg. “Excuse me, Ms. Mathison.”

A beat passes. Laughter erupts in the room. Kennedy raises her glass and says, “Cheers,” before gulping the rest of her drink. Grace falls deeper into Kennedy’s lap and whispers something into her ear. Lara is staring at the girl’s ass.

Behind me, a woman named June says that she likes my dress. Another named Chelsea says that she had wondered when she would see Ira again.

See Ira… Again…

I’m frozen with the unfamiliar sensation of jealousy. I see the way she and this woman look at one another. It’s a look of, “Oh, yeah, I fucked you before!” Except money was involved with these two. And BDSM. You know, it’s one thing to know this theoretically. It’s another to see it for yourself.

I shouldn’t be jealous. I have no grounds to be jealous. After all, I wouldn’t be happy if one of my old flames came up and Ira got all possessive terror on them. So, I have no business looking at this Chelsea as if she should back the fuck off.

Then I think about how Ira kissed me before these people. Now they know.

“I’ve been doing well, thank you,” Ira says to Chelsea, her arm still wrapped around me. Possessively. This is my woman and I want to make sure you know it. I’m not even wearing my collar. I don’t have it. Ira kept it.

This is too overwhelming. I can’t relax. I need more alcohol.

Luckily, there is plenty of alcohol here. Every time one glass empties, another fills up, and it’s like I have all the time in the world to use the powers of alcohol to feel more comfortable with the fact that Ira has her hands all over me in front of these people. Some of them total strangers. Some of them work colleagues.

When she’s decided Chelsea has asked enough questions, she kisses me again, pushing me into the back of the couch with her whisky-laden breath overpowering me. My hand brushes against her crotch. Color me surprised. The woman came prepared.

I wish she would keep kissing me. Those moments are the only times I feel comfortable here. That is until I get another glass in me and I realize that nobody is paying attention to us.

It’s a party in this small lounge. Lara and Kennedy are tipsy and flirty, their hands all over each other, all over Grace, their sexuality oozing like a contagious disease if anyone so much as looks at them. June and Chelsea are flirting with anyone who will pay attention to them, and I learn that they’re here to make the party better – and because they have no appointments or clients tonight, so they’re trying to score money elsewhere. Monique is present because the Anderssens are two of her biggest investors. Not to mention how much money Ira and I carry together. She picks the gatherings she crashes carefully.

It’s a good thing this place deals in discretion, because Ira just rubbed the inside of my thigh and whispered something so dirty in my ear.

“I want you, Kathleen.”

I know that growl in her voice. It’s the one that makes my insides shiver. Makes my heart beat faster. Makes me want to melt in her arms and turn into nothing but a sexual creature – like how these other girls are acting in here.

My hand curls around the lapel of her jacket. “I want you too.”

This time our kiss is so mutually consuming that we get some whistles and a click of the tongue from Lara Anderssen.

“That’s not a kiss, dears,” she says, taking Grace by the arm. “This is.”