At half-past-twelve, they went out of the bookstore/coffee shop and walked across the street to the bistro where they were supposed to have the meeting. He wanted to drink a glass or two of Portland's finest brews before meeting Tom—their managing consultant in Portland—and his clients.
"I was supposed to meet with just Tom last night then head back to Seattle this morning, but then yesterday he strongly suggested I also meet with his clients. That's why I need you."
"For what, exactly?" Rhonda was still in a flirtatious mood. She couldn't turn it off just like that, especially after she knew she had an incriminating effect on him. He didn't let himself be baited; he offered a smile. He had handled things like this in the pa
"No, I'm not jealous. Not at all. But I do think it's sluttish what you did," Gina said, slightly upset and simultaneously amused upon hearing what Rhonda tried to pull with the Boss. She scoffed, then went back to looking at the menu, trying to deal with the mixed feelings she had. The feelings that sat between curiosity and fear of not liking what Rhonda might say next. But Rhonda knew when to stop, and how much was to be divulged. "I don't know what got into me, but he felt like a challenge and I kept on losing—I threw in all I got. Nothing that should've happened, did. But Gina, like I said, he reacted to it—excellent control but a man nevertheless," Rhonda summed up her experience with the Boss the day before.
"Gina, I am yours. Kronos is as good as you in analysis and planning. Yes, they have the bigger name and world presence. But your team has the practical experience, they've been exposed to the fields, and where the rubber meets the road, and that qualification is invaluable. Moreover, my team is already joined at the hip with yours—it yields synergy," John said. Synergy—Rhonda recalled what Pete had said about that word: Aerlman's pet word. It makes sense, Rhonda thought. "And I think, although he doesn't say it, Abram is also inclined toward your company, and so is Pete. Adrian wants visibility, so he can have an easier life—but he doesn't think much about the amount of groundwork involved. Kronos is not as e
Raymond was the managing partner, one of the three gods owned by The Boss. Of those three, Raymond was the most powerful and feared. He was a big, cigar-chomping man. He was loud and daunting. Yes, he was extremely sharp and knowledgeable, but those qualities only bolstered his unpleasant and mean-spirited demeanor. Raymond was not one to beat around the bush. It was not a good surprise when Layla told Gina that Raymond was looking for her, as she was about to sit in her office. What for, Gina inquired. "I have no clue, Gina, and dared not ask," Layla said, and she didn't even talk to the man directly. She talked with his secretary. "He wants you to see him as soon as you’re back."
She was lying naked on her bed, all fresh and smelling like flowers after a long, hot shower. Nobody was there to smell her though, not for another hour and a half. In ninety minutes, she was to meet Roy for dinner. Now, she just wanted to relax, and probably touch herself a little here and there, as she had always done whenever she felt wanted—and that was often. Roy had hinted at a new business, and suggested dinner to talk about it. She smiled. What an old trick, she thought, it was cute, and she played along. She would bring the Boss, she said—although she wouldn't; the Boss did not attend dinners unless it was necessary, or he was the one who initiated them. "No, do not embarrass me. The business is not substantial enou
Whenever he was meeting Gina he made sure he arrived first. He loved to witness how she made her entrance, how she turned heads as she walked toward his table. He stood up to greet her. He planted a kiss on her cheek, surprising her. Surprising himself; not a known habit. She was dressed for impact; the dress she had changed into when her dinner plans had been altered, was designed to lure. Shimmery gold in color, it had a low décolletage covering just enough to leave to the imagination, their roundness tastefully outlined. The material discreetly recorded every move her body made. She was in for a kill, for more than just making an impression. As he helped her into her seat, he was treated to glimpses of her thighs. The skin smo
They talked, unrelated to work and mostly about her. He listened intently while replenishing her wine now and then—signaling the server to let him do the pouring. She told him of her friends, social circles and their youthful manners. She told him of what she dreamt of when she was a child, then as a teenager. She told him how proud she was of her job … and of him. As more wine was poured, she became more confident and bubblier, and instead of being daunted as she usually was, she enjoyed the undivided attention her boss gave her. Then she said, "I like you. Very much." Her glass was empty, and so was the bottle. The Boss, for the first ti
Late into the night, the place started to morph once again, this time into a lounge with upbeat jazz as the music. A new batch of patrons started to flock in, the hip and young, the Gina kind of crowd. The servers cleared up some space for a dance floor. Gina wasn't sure what would be next. She hoped it didn't end too early. He was thinking how convenient his pad would be. All they had to do was to walk out, ride on an elevator to the penthouse and they would be there. The same ritual as with all others. No, I can't do that. I shouldn't. When? Never? Not tonight. No. He was struggling. Before his mind agreed, his anxiety had spoken, "I'll take you home."&
Dungi was sweating, the palms of his hands were wet. His vision was getting blurry. Tears were forming. He held it back; he had to hold it, they must not know. He looked at his wife and son who were still absorbed in the menu, oblivious to the change of mood in Dungi, oblivious to his problems to procure for his family beyond his means—a vice Dungi let them keep so he could reign King of the Hill. He put the phone down slowly, and grabbed the menu to cover his face with it—of course, under the pretext of assessing choices for the most sumptuous lunch. As he glimpsed over its contents, Dungi just realized how exorbitant the prices were, as were the others he and his family had frequented for three-time-a-day meals: breakfasts, lunches, and dinners.&nbs