Page 4 of Sweet Torture (Torture Games #1)
THREE
GRIFFIN
“ I don’t fucking care, just find Naz Adams.”
I toss the phone on the couch with enough force to make it bounce and drop to the floor with a heavy thud.
Rubbing my tired eyes, I stumble towards the expansive window. My office is on the top floor, and just like the conference room, I designed it with a wall of windows. The city lies bare at my feet and at my mercy. Mercy that was not earned but still given on the days that I felt magnanimous enough.
Why then is the city betraying me now?
Somewhere, it is hiding this woman from me, and when I find her, there will be no mercy.
It has been days since the exhibit, and I have been met with nothing but bullshit excuses.
First, I had to figure out from the information I retrieved from the gallery owner, that I actually fucked the artist, Naz Adams, at her own show.
Although it feels more like she fucked me because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.
My mind has been fixating on the possibilities of laying her out before me like a buffet of abundant deliciousness.
Unfortunately, the gallery owner, AKA her bulldog, refuses to give out her details.
Eventually, she agreed to inquire if Naz would be willing to take a meeting with me.
After waiting impatiently for hours, I was informed that she was unavailable and would return the gallery owner’s call once she was back on the grid.
Temperamental fucking fools ! Or am I the fool?
My fist thumps against the thick glass and leaves smudges behind. Not my problem. I stalk to my desk and redial the gallery number saved on my cell.
“Rosalind Cooper’s Gallery, how may we color your life?”
“Did you get me the fucking details I asked?”
“I would like to remind you that I don’t work for you, and that tone of voice will just get this call terminated. Do you really want to go through that? Again?”
If she is referring to the three times she has done it before, then no. No, I would not.
I suck a deep breath through my nose, hoping she hears my restraint over the line .
“Have you talked to…the artist? Is she willing to meet with me?”
Why am I chasing a woman who clearly only saw me as a tool to be used? Just like all the rest of them.
I palm my aching cock, and he is twitching in answer, hard and insistent.
The few seconds of silence that pass claw at my self-control.
“She has given me instructions to set up a meeting. She has, however, warned that if you don’t make an appearance, she will consider your business concluded.”
Is this woman giving me an order via someone else?
“Just make sure she pitches up. I don’t like my time wasted.”
Is that a faint giggle I hear?
I lower myself into the luxurious leather chair that could have been a swing with the way my head is spinning.
“If you could provide me with the desired location, I will make sure she receives the message.” Her tone is very professional.
“Angelo’s. On Eleventh Avenue. Tonight. Eight sharp.”
I hear the pen scribbling, and relief floods my body. Days of no sleep and grinding agitations have gotten me this far. All I must do now is secure the deal.
“Thank you for your call, and we hope to see you soon.” There is that annoyingly cheery tone again .
I end the call. What do I care what her assistant thinks of me? She made it difficult enough to find this woman. I look at the phone still on the floor and decide against it.
“Jason!” I holler.
His frightened face appears in the doorway.
“Yes, sir?”
“Pick up the bloody phone and make a reservation at Angelo’s for eight sharp. And tell them I want my usual table, no excuses.” I push my chair closer to my desk.
His lanky figure is trembling while he kneels to dig for the phone. My fingers stab into my temples and I inhale deeply while watching him, ass in the air.
“Jason, I don’t bite. Just get it done.” I sigh.
He nods and leaves. Which leaves me to think about all the filthy things I want to suggest tonight to Naz Adams, the elusive artist. After all, it is just business.
I have a standing arrangement with Angelo, but the mayor still tries to challenge my authority time and time again. And taking my table is part of the friendly rivalry between us. Not tonight.
Angelo can see from my face that everything needs to be perfect tonight. I will not leave anything to chance. Nor will I tolerate any disrespect.
I sit with my back to the wall, leering over my kingdom.
There is not a businessman in this room who does not know who I am.
This restaurant is known as a neutral location for any business dealings, and yet no detail goes unseen or unreported.
Just what I want. Even if it takes some time to convince her, everyone will know she belongs to me.
A quick inhale draws my attention to the vision floating toward my table.
The clicking of her heels slows when she notices my gaze on her.
Her long tresses are tamed in a high pony, perfect to wrap around my fist. Her crimson full lips are slightly lifted, indicating that she knows she is mesmerizing every man in this establishment.
She is showing just enough skin to enslave every single man in this establishment.
I stand to welcome her but feel myself reaching to claim her before introductions can be made.
“Griffin Maxwell?” Her voice reaches to the darkest and most primal corners of my soul.
I round the table to place my hand on the small of her back to lead her to the seat in the booth beside me.
“I understand if you don’t recognize my face. Would you like to see the appendage that you are more familiar with?”
She lounges on the bench beside me like a graceful phoenix in red descending on us mere mortals, not at all fazed by my comment.
Staring intently at her, I notice the pull in the corner of her lips before she simply states, “Maybe later. Would you like to tell me why the urgency behind this meeting? Rose said you were tenacious.”
Turning sideways, I move into her personal space. My arm is draped over the back of the bench, caging her in. Her hair elicits sparks of lust as it swipes over my hand. She doesn’t take the bait and leans back comfortably with the attention focused on her.
“We have unfinished business.” My voice is gruff, even to my ears.
She is surveying our surroundings, and I need to touch her hand before she returns to me.
“What business would that be? I got what I wanted. Were you unsatisfied? Because I should mention here that I simply don’t care about your orgasm enough to remedy the situation. Or is that why you brought me here?” Her voice is smooth as silk.
She moves closer, and her fingernails lightly graze my thigh under the table. And if my dick was excited before, he is in full party mode now. I groan softly when her fingers spread wide, and I feel the heat rush over my skin.
I draw a harsh breath and see my knuckles on the table turning white.
“What if it is? I was thinking maybe we could come to an understanding.”
Her hand moves closer, and when she locates my hard- on, she discreetly scrapes one fingernail slowly against the side of my shaft.
I clench my jaw to contain the needy growl that wants to escape.
“So, now you want to make a deal? What would that entail?”
Entranced by her cool demeanor, I wait for her to buckle under my intense scrutiny. She hardly flinches.
“I must make it clear from the beginning that this will be nothing more than a business arrangement. I will not tolerate emotion of any kind.” She is still lightly stroking my thigh, drawing lazy circles now while watching me intensely.
“That is quite interesting. And how do you intend to keep emotion out of the… arrangement ?” Her voice carries an inkling of mockery. My temperature rises.
“Well, I have this standard contract here, stating all the things I would like to do to you. Would you like to take a look?” I gesture to the pages placed within arm’s reach and will her to pick them up.
“All business and right to the point, I see. I like it, but I have an alternative suggestion. How about we play a game?”
The frown that mars my face draws a giggle from her that she tries to contain with both hands. My cock condemns me for the action .
“What can I get you fine folks this lovely evening?” the waiter interrupts before I can answer. “Our special tonight is a lovely lemony risotto with roasted fennel and parmesan shavings. Let me tell you, it is deliciously rich and creamy.”
With a straight face, Naz turns to the waiter and says, “That would be wonderful. I have a vicious craving for something creamy. Can I get some of those long breadsticks too, please? I need something in my mouth.”
The waiter turns to me, but my companion’s words have caused an eruption of lust, and my painfully hard dick demands all my attention.
“And what will you be having tonight, sir?
I am at a loss for words. All the blood in my body is congregating in one specific place, and it is not in my head. I stare at this man helplessly while the witch next to me casts a spell on my senses.
“He seems to be too focused on business. Could you give us another moment? In the meantime, could I also get a single malt on the rocks, please? Negotiations are going to take a turn, I see.”
She gestures with her head in my direction, and the waiter laughs before he leaves to put in the order. Immediately, a sense of possessiveness fills me. She needs to be mine; any attention she bestows and all the jokes made must be with me and me alone.
“Did you enjoy humiliating me like that?” I bite out.
Her head whips to me, and I recognize the fury in her eyes before I feel her nails pierce the skin of my thigh through my pants. Her tone of voice completely negates her intention.