Mister Moneybags(32)

As Cheri went to work, she spent a good deal of time standing in front of me with her tits right at my eye level. It was difficult not to get an eyeful with her low-cut blouse.

“Will your wife be joining us for the shoot?”

“I’m not married.”

She leaned down to blot some shit on my chin and smiled. Taking in her face for the first time, I noticed she was very attractive. A mane of wild, blonde, curly hair framed her petite face. Cheri told me to look down so she could rub crap that wouldn’t reflect light on my eyelids, and I was pretty sure she positioned herself for a grand view down her shirt. While it was tempting, I shut my eyes.

They were still closed after a few minutes as she went to town with powder on my face, so I tried in vain to use the moments to relax. Joel and Breena were making a lot of noise moving things around, so I hadn’t heard Josephine come in until she was standing on the other side of my desk.

“Mr. Truitt. Ms. George has arrived. Shall I show her in?”

I startled poor Cheri, ripping the white paper makeup bib from my face and standing. “I need to speak to her first. Is she in reception?”

“She is.”

My office was in the southeast corner of the thirty-third floor, and it was two long corridors to make my way to reception. There was a transparent glass door that led from the back office area to reception. My heart hammered inside my chest as I turned the corner and caught sight of Bianca sitting on a couch in the waiting area. She was looking down at her phone, so she didn’t see me until I was almost in front of her.

“Bianca. I’m glad you decided to join us.”

She stood. I knew immediately something was wrong from the look in her eyes.

“What happened?”

“My taxi had an accident. Some idiot hit us from behind, and when the crazy driver got out and started to yell at him, the guy backed up and slammed into our car a second time.”

I started to pat her down, unsure of what the hell I expected to find. Holes somewhere, perhaps? “Are you okay?”

She laughed. “I’m fine. But I’m pretty late.”

“Who gives a f*ck? You’re sure you’re alright? Does anything hurt?”

“My neck is a little stiff. But it’s nothing. Probably just the jerk from the impact.”

“We should get you to the hospital to get checked out.”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Really.”

I cupped her face and looked into her eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Without thinking, I pulled Bianca against me, wrapping her in my arms tight and inhaled deeply, allowing a fresh breath of calm to finally exhale out. I’d been trying to relax all morning and this…this…is what I needed to make it happen. I kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

There was no f*cking way I was ready to let go of her. But she seemed uncomfortable and whispered, “Dex. Your receptionist is staring at us.”

“Let her f*cking stare.”

“No, really. I’m fine. We should…we should get down to business.”

I felt her body stiffen in my arms and reluctantly released her. Clearing my throat, I said, “The photographer and his crew are in my office setting up. Come. I’ll show you around quick before taking you to my office.”

My father was a natural braggart. I tended to feel uncomfortable displaying my wealth, but I was desperate when it came to Bianca. I’d do whatever it took to impress her. Before heading to my office, I walked her around the floor and showed her all of the different departments, introducing her to people as I walked. If I was being honest, my presence probably jolted more than a few. It had been at least a year since I’d stopped into some of the areas. Most days, I was buried beneath stacks of prospectuses in my office or off at some meeting.

“It’s much bigger than I thought it would be,” Bianca said as we left the analyst area.

I arched a brow. “I hope you’re referring to Montague and not the photo I sent you last night.”

Her beautiful skin blushed. “I’d like to keep this professional, Mr. Truitt.”

I stopped in place a few doors down from my office. Bianca stopped a few paces after me when she realized I was no longer moving. “Mr. Truitt?” I questioned.

“I’m trying to keep it professional.”

I closed the two-foot gap between us and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Then you might want to try calling me something else. Because hearing you call me Mr. Truitt makes me hard as a rock. I’ve developed a rather large, visual role-play catalog over the weeks we’ve spent corresponding, Ms. George. And hearing Mr. Truitt from your lips is one of my favorite scenes to recall.”

When I pulled my face back to look at hers, her eyes were dilated, and I watched as her throat worked to swallow. I was certain I still had an effect on Bianca George physically—that wasn’t our issue. It was her trust that I needed to win back.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to Joel Aster.”

I allowed Joel and his team to do whatever they wanted for the better part of an hour. Bianca stayed in the background, and at one point, I saw her chatting with Cheri, Miss Big Tits. I tried to make out what the two of them were saying as I posed for shot after shot, but it was damn near impossible. Although, I could have sworn there was tenseness in Bianca’s jaw that hadn’t been there before. Eventually, I called for a break.