Any Way You Want It (Brand Clan #2)(15)

With his thick shaft embedded so deep inside her she couldn’t tell where she began and he ended, she’d forgotten who they were, forgotten that he was only supposed to be a friend.

But when she awoke the next morning—alone, thankfully—she was so shocked and embarrassed by her reckless behavior that she’d avoided being alone with Remy for the rest of the trip.

If only she believed that was the end of what they’d started.

With a deep sigh, Zandra lifted her head from the window to stare out at the glistening Chicago skyline.

For the past five years, she’d owned and operated Elite For You Companions, an upscale escort agency patronized by some of Chicago’s richest, most powerful men. Her clients included chief executives, industrialists, philanthropists, foreign diplomats and Arab sheikhs, all of whom came to her because she had the best escorts in town—beautiful, intelligent, classy women who knew how to handle themselves in any social setting.

With two degrees in economics, Zandra prided herself on being a shrewd businesswoman. Everything about the way she ran her agency—from hiring escorts to catering to clients—was intended to protect her business interests and ensure maximum profitability.

Instead of using a booking agent to set up client appointments, she delegated the task to her efficient receptionist, who was the soul of discretion. Zandra set the hourly rates and fees, which were unapologetically high and unapologetically nonnegotiable.

Though her escorts were hired as independent contractors, Zandra treated them like employees and took her cut off the top, because she’d only needed to be burned once to remember that she could trust no one.

She didn’t accept credit cards for payment because even though she was running a legal business, she believed her clients were entitled to their privacy, and accepting their plastic hardware established a paper trail that could later be used against them or her.

She ran complete background checks on clients to ensure their financial solvency and to weed out criminals and undercover cops, because she didn’t have time or patience for bullshit. If prospective clients were married, she politely referred them to other agencies, because she wasn’t in the business of wrecking homes.

Thanks to her shrewd professionalism and eye for quality, Zandra was now worth a small fortune that afforded her a luxury penthouse on the Gold Coast and the loyalty of a personal chef and chauffeur.

Not bad for a girl from the South Side.

Just then the phone on her desk buzzed.

“Zandra?” Her receptionist’s voice came through the intercom.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“Sorry to disturb you, but Enid Roche is on the line. She wanted to confirm your RSVP for the museum fundraiser gala on Sunday.”

In addition to running a successful escort agency, Zandra was also a patron of the arts who served on the board of various arts councils, hosted fundraisers at her own home and promoted the works of local artists.

She smiled. “Tell Enid I’ll definitely be there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Christine chirped.

Zandra stared out the window another moment, then sighed and smoothed down the front of her Chanel shift dress, turned on the heel of her Louboutin snakeskin pumps and sat behind a custom-designed glass-top desk with a sleek leather base.

Enough daydreaming about Remy, she told herself. You have work to do.

No sooner had she completed the thought than her cell phone rang. When she picked it up and saw Remy’s number, her heart pounded into her throat.

Taking a deep breath to summon her composure, she pressed the answer button and spoke as calmly as possible. “Hello.”

“You. Me. Lunch at noon.”

Her stomach pitched at the sound of his deep, dark voice. Leaning back in her chair, she murmured, “Good morning to you, too, Remington.”

“Good morning, Zandra.” She could hear his smile. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Her lips curved wryly. “It seems that we’re making progress.”

“How so?”

“Instead of calling, you usually just show up unannounced and make me go to lunch with you.”

Remy chuckled, low and husky. “I couldn’t wait that long to hear your voice again.”

Zandra closed her eyes, heat curling from the base of her skull to the bottom of her spine. “Well, um, I’m not free for lunch today.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been out of the office, and I have work to catch up on.”

“And it will be there when you get back from lunch.”

“That’s not the point—”

“Listen.”

Never had one word conveyed such quiet authority.

Zandra snapped her mouth shut, her pulse thudding as she waited for him to continue.

“I let you ignore me for the rest of our trip because I knew you needed time to process what had happened between us. For that same reason I didn’t come to your room the next night, even though it killed me to stay away, and I couldn’t sleep worth a damn because my dick was so hot and hard for you—”

Oh, God, Zandra thought as a ripple of lust shot to her groin, making her cross her legs tightly.

“On the flight back home,” he continued, “I let you get away with sitting next to Royce instead of me, and I didn’t say a word when you insisted on having your driver pick you up from the airport, even though you’d previously agreed to let me take you home.” He paused, his voice turning dangerously silky. “Under the circumstances, I think I’ve shown remarkable patience and restraint. But if you think I’m going to keep my distance and pretend that nothing has changed between us, you obviously haven’t met me.”