A Sip of Pleasure(2)

By: Dixie Lynn Dwyer


“Thank you, Hal. I appreciate the compliment. So what is this meeting about, do you know?” she asked and looked at Hal. He was handsome and wore dark black glasses that made him appear intelligent, but he was doing the whole non-commitment thing, and she needed to stay clear of men like that. He was attractive, though, and she really should stop fantasizing about having one of those ménage relationships like her friends had. The thought of more than one man catering to her every need, paying full attention to her, committing to her and only her was just that, a fantasy. Her luck with men was shit. Lately, she wondered if she should just go with the flow like Suzette. Maybe base a relationship on the sex.

She shivered. She had been a virgin when she’d met Randy, fallen for his charms and even his proposal of marriage. What a fool she had been. Never again. Then she had struck out with Vincent, Salvatore, and Dane, and that was the only opportunity at a ménage she had ever even come close to. She supposed it wasn’t in the cards for her.

“I’m not a hundred percent sure. I’m getting a text from someone now. Let me read it,” he said. She watched him thumbing at the phone.

Hal had worked with her on one of the first projects Suzette had hooked them up with. It had led to the latest campaign, one promoting a new top-of-the-line laser technology that could be used in various industries including laser skin repair, precision detonation, and weaponry just among a few things. It was a multimillion-dollar opportunity, and she was right there in the middle and about to begin initiating the largest campaign of her life. Never mind an obscene bonus and paycheck when all was said and done.

He leaned closer as he organized his files in front of him.

“I hear it’s someone of great importance who wants to sit in on our discussions about each aspect of advertising from skin repair to advanced laser technology. Should be interesting,” Hal said and winked.

She felt a little nervous but Suzette entered, smiled at everyone, and then took the seat next to her. Suzette would be lead on this anyway, and Cherie would work alongside her. When the doors opened and their boss appeared along with a man Cherie didn’t know, the rest of the room seemed to erupt in quiet surprise. She heard mumbled “Oh shit” and “Bevgo.” Instantly, as her eyes absorbed the dark, mysterious look of the man, his gorgeous blue eyes, and Middle Eastern complexion, she realized who it was. Bevgo Vittone, a multimillionaire, entrepreneur, financial tycoon, who was the monetary backer of the laser as well as the company of scientists who had invented it.

Suddenly she was overwhelmed and feeling out of her league.

He glanced around the room, not really smiling, but looking as serious as could be and sizing up the small group of eight in the room, including her. She couldn’t hold eye contact with the man. He was good-looking, wealthy, and she found herself shyly lowering her eyes. Looking more assertive, especially in front of someone so powerful and wealthy was something she needed to work on.

As her boss, Grover Mills, made the introductions, she looked up to find Bevgo Vittone watching her. When her boss introduced Suzette, Bevgo gave her a smile. “Good seeing you again, Suzette. Looking forward to your progress.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“This lovely young lady next to Suzette is her partner, Cherie Combs. You’ll be speaking with them one on one in a little while as you requested,” Grover Mills stated. Mr. Vittone gave Cherie a nod and she nodded back, trying to appear confident although she was shaking and her belly quivered.

Her boss led the meeting with Mr. Vittone sitting beside him and directly across from Cherie. When Mr. Vittone began to speak, she looked up and took the opportunity to check the man out. She was impressed with the ease with which he spoke, the confidence in his tone, and his body language.

When he wasn’t talking he was looking around the room. She had to force herself not to fidget with her blouse or smooth her hands along her skirt. Instead, she stared at his dress shirt, the tie he wore, and the suit jacket. Were they custom made? Distinguishing players for the real thing, as Suzette liked to describe men in this business, was something she was trying to work on. Either they really had money and the power to back up their mouths, or they spewed bullshit on a regular basis. She was learning. This guy was not full of shit. He was the real deal.