Page 18 of Dante (Members From Money Season 2. #153)

She dressed with special care the next morning.

After spending the time between consciousness after a restless night and making herself a cup of tea, she battled the cowardly decision to take the day off.

She was not the type of person to duck out of her responsibilities because things had gone horribly wrong.

She was going to face the situation and him.

Her breath stuttered at the thought of seeing him after what they had shared last night.

He had seen her naked. He had performed the most intimate acts with her.

He had been inside her. She swallowed tea and felt the rise of heat.

He had come inside her, being inside her, all of him, without anything between them.

She recalled vividly the way she had behaved like a wanton, like it was the first time she had ever been with a man.

She had been wildly passionate, uninhibited for the first time in her life. She had been unable to help herself. She had cried and screamed, and God help her, had moaned.

Putting down the cup, she rubbed her hands over her face as the memories haunted her.

She had practically begged him to take her.

With Michael, she had been restrained and thought that the sex was pleasant enough.

Pleasant. That's what she had been content to settle for.

He hadn't complained, but she had noticed the lack of excitement.

"Well, there was no lack there," she muttered.

Pushing away from the counter, she stood in the middle of her tiny kitchen and wondered what the hell to do.

She had almost picked up the phone to call her brother last night but was avoiding the explosion.

He was going to be mad, and she could not blame him.

It had happened and there was no going back to undo it. It was done. But would she want to go back and undo anything? The sneaky voice whispered in her head, and she chose to ignore it. Time to get ready to face the music. Whatever the hell that was.

He knew he was taking the coward's way out, but that could not be helped right now.

He just could not face her. And after spending a very restless night last night, he was tired down to the bone.

He needed time to compose himself and decide which way to go.

With that in mind, he placed his first call and made the arrangements.

The next call was more difficult.

It took him two minutes to place the call.

He had left the office first thing this morning and was inside his apartment with a cup of coffee on the wide granite counter.

He had a housekeeper who came in at ten and would leave before he returned.

She was a good woman in her mid-fifties and as tidy as a church.

She was also quiet and gave him his space.

He was not one to eat breakfast. Two cups of coffee could keep him going until lunch. His mornings were usually the busiest anyway. Rubbing his hand over his jaw, he absently noted that he needed a shave and a trim.

And he was procrastinating. Taking a deep breath, he dialed the number, skipping over the switchboard and going straight for her line.

"Mr. Livingston's office, how may I help?"

He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice and felt himself hardening.

"It's me."

Courtney's fingers clenched on the receiver and she had to steady herself.

"Mr. Livingston, good morning."

He gritted his teeth at her polite tone.

"I won't be coming in until the afternoon."

She paused and closed her eyes. Taking a deep quiet breath, she tried to appear nonchalant and completely professional. She had been relieved when she came in and was told by the guard that the boss was not here yet. She thought it would give her ample time to compose herself.

"I see," she murmured carefully. "You have a meeting with the CFO at nine. Should I ask him to reschedule?" She glanced at his packed itinerary. "I'm going to have to try and squeeze him in between the meeting with the zoning committee and the lawyers. It will be tight."

"Do what you must. How are you?"

"What?"

"Any more episodes?"

Episodes? Her mind blanked for a minute. So, he was not going to address the elephant in the room. Fine by her. She would play it just the way he was.

"No. Thank you for asking."

He swore beneath his breath.

"What do you want me to say, Courtney?"

"I'm not following." She was deliberately obtuse but did not care.

"Stop being so damn polite," he snapped. "We need to talk."

"Would you like to do so over the phone?"

"No, dammit." He had to get a grip on his emotions. "Look, I need to think about what this means. Where to go from here. I have never done this sort of thing before and I have no idea how to navigate."

"If you're thinking I'm going to sue, you can be assured that's not going to happen."

He laughed mirthlessly.

"I was not considering that aspect, but now I am."

"You have nothing to worry about," she told him stiffly. "Is there anything else?"

There was so much he wanted to say, but he had to get his head on straight first.

"Yes. No." He sighed. "I'll see you when I get in."

"Goodbye Mr. Livingston."

"Stop calling me that!" he snapped angrily. "Don't you think it's a bit ridiculous for you to be so formal? For God's sake, we've seen each other naked, have committed the most intimate of acts. The least you can do is call me by my first name."

"I don't think that's appropriate."

"You're pissing me off."

"I apologize."

"I'll see you when I get in." His voice was curt and before she could respond, she heard the dial tone in her ear.

Putting the receiver down, she pressed her lips together and clasped her hands in front of her. Her heart was hammering, and she could feel the queasiness in her chest.

"Not now," she whispered wearily. "Please not now." Pushing away from the desk, she went to her little kitchenette to make some tea.

The Gentlemen Boxers was in the center of the business district and catered to men who wanted to let off steam and just go a round or two in the boxing ring.

It was open twenty-four seven and was a swanky red brick building that had once been owned by a group of lawyers.

When they had to liquidate their assets, including the building they had tried to cling to with deathlike intensity, the building had been taken over by a former international professional boxer who had hung up his gloves due to a debilitating spasm in his right hand.

Joseph Manchester had bought the building and not wanting to let go of his love of the sport, he had simply turned the place into a sporting ring that catered to the upper echelon of society.

He had been clever enough to garner the interest of the businessmen, the movers and shakers and offered exclusive membership for those who could afford his exorbitant fee.

One which included professional training, amateur fencing and boxing, steam rooms, a sports bar where one could relax after a sweaty bout of pummeling and drinks, gallons of expensive liquor.

It was also conveniently located and easily accessible.

And a way to blow off steam whether it was early in the morning or late at night. Members were always catered to and their needs met.

"Whoa!" Jackson held up a hand as he staggered back from the blow to his chest. "This is starting to feel like a professional event." He looked around. "I expect to see people cheering us on and money exchanging hands. What the hell is up with you man?"

"You're getting old and weak," Dante sneered as he removed his headgear and dumped it on the padded floor.

"I'm not old," Jackson sneered right back as he unhooked his helmet. "It's just that you have been coming at me like a bat out of hell." Sweat dribbled down his forehead and into his eyes, making them sting. "Are we done? Are all your demons exorcised for the day?"

"Well if you cannot handle it."

"Kiss my ass," Jackson declared cheerfully and pulled apart the rope to get out. "I'll meet you in the steam room."

Dumping his gear, Dante nodded to the men coming in and headed straight for the large room designed to relax them while they boiled.

Going to his locker, he stripped down to skin and made his way in, grateful that they were the only two people present. Jackson was already relaxing with a towel draped around his waist.

"I think I'm bruised all over." He lazily opened an eye as Dante came into the room. "My lovely wife is going to have some questions, which I'm going to point to you."

"You can always tell her that you were not up to the task."

"Bite me."

Dante laughed and stretched out on the soft mat. He was feeling the effect of the half hour they spent on the boxing mat and was sure that a bruise was forming on his chest. His ribs hurt like a son of a bitch, but Jackson did not have to know that.

"Want to tell me why we're here at this godforsaken hour, beating our brains out?"

"I wanted to do something different. I went swimming this morning, but it did not do the trick." He grimaced and rubbed his hands over the moisture on his face. "I have a problem."

Jackson sat up and stared at him with keen interest.

"What sort?"

"I have become involved in something I never thought would happen."

"Your assistant."

"Yeah." He sat up and draped one hand over the padded headrest. "We had sex last night. In my office."

"I see."

"I've been trying to avoid her for the last couple of weeks, but then we were working late, and she got sick. She threw up in my bathroom. I carried her to bed and." He dragged a hand through his damp hair. "I couldn't help myself. And now I think I'm half in love with her."

Jackson shot him an amused look.

"Half?"

"Okay, all the way."

"How was the sex?"