Praise (Salacious Players Club, #1)(21)

RULE #10: WHEN YOUR FRIENDS GET NOSEY, TELL THEM NOTHING.





Emerson





“How’s it going with the new girl?” Garrett and I are sitting at the bar, waiting for the others. We haven’t spoken about the incident at the club today, but as far as Garrett and I are concerned, there’s really nothing to speak about. To him, Charlotte is just another employee—because that’s exactly what she is, and it’s not out of line for him to talk to her or even flirt with her a little. I don’t usually keep secrets from my best friend, so he doesn’t know the details of how I came to find Charlotte—a secret I don’t expect to keep for long.

“She’s perfect,” I reply after taking a sip of my beer.

Garrett makes a big show of looking surprised. Raising his arms in the air, he acts like he’s just seen the second coming of Christ or something.

“Knock it off,” I mutter.

“Can it be? Emerson Grant is finally satisfied with someone? Drinks are on me tonight.”

“Very funny. Besides, she’s just a secretary, remember? The standards and expectations are considerably lower.”

“That’s fine. I can get over the fact that I didn’t find her myself. I’m just happy I can have twenty hours a week of my time back since that’s what I spent trying to find the perfect girl for you. Not to mention all of the paperwork involved in assigning and reassigning each girl. It was exhausting.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re pleased,” I reply.

“No. I’m glad you’re pleased.” He laughs, taking a drink. After setting it down, he throws me a curious look. “Where did you find her anyway?”

I grimace. Best to be out with it, I guess. “Well…”

Just then, Hunter and Drake burst through the door and there’s not a word left to be spoken. Our business partner, Hunter, and his best friend are two of the loudest, most foul-mouthed thirty-year-old men I’ve ever met.

Following behind them are Hunter’s wife, Isabel, and Maggie, everyone’s right-hand lady. Both of them behaving in an appropriate, suitable for public, composed manner—unlike the two men in front of them.

We all greet each other before taking our seats around the same table we’ve been inhabiting every Thursday night for the past eight years.

It’s really the perfect place for us to meet, since we rarely see each other throughout the week. It’s also the only place that will accommodate everyone from Drake in his jeans and boots, straight off the construction site, to me in my business attire. And it’s not too seedy that we would feel uncomfortable bringing the girls here.

“What’s new?” Hunter asks after they return from the bar with their drinks.

“Well, Emerson was just telling us that his new secretary is perfect.”

“Hmm…” Maggie says in response, pressing her lips together.

“Ohh, what was that for?” Isabel asks, clearly picking up on the signal Maggie was implying.

“She’s not who I expected for Emerson, that’s all.”

“She’s just my secretary,” I throw in, although no one seems to hear it.

“What was wrong with her?” Hunter asks.

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” I blurt out quickly.

“Oh, that girl you brought in today? There was definitely nothing wrong with her.” This time it’s Drake who leans in to join the conversation with a suggestive wag of his brow, and I growl quietly into my drink. Drake is Hunter’s friend, and except for being the foreman at the construction of our first location, he has nothing to do with our business. He has no real appreciation for the lifestyle, aside from being the biggest manwhore in Briar Point. And I meant what I said to Charlotte today…he’ll fuck anything over eighteen.

“Enough,” I reply quickly.

“What? That’s your type, isn’t it?” he asks playfully. “Young, hot, follows you around like a puppy.”

Garrett answers for me. “Leave him alone, Drake.”

I can handle Drake’s jokes. It’s not his fault he likes it vanilla. He smiles at me from across the table, and I shake my head, finishing off my drink. He can laugh all he wants, but he’s never laying a hand on Charlotte. I’ll make sure of that.

Standing from the table, I walk over to the bar to order my second drink. After gesturing for the bartender, I let my mind wander back to the interaction with Charlotte today. I’m not sure why I reacted the way I did. I never should have cornered her like that. Fuck, I’m out of my element here. What the hell do I know about working with a twenty-one-year-old girl?

Charlotte is more curious about the business than I expected, and I’m struggling with how fucking adorable that is and how much that shit will get me in trouble. Even I have to admit, unabashed curiosity, especially when it comes to kinks and sex, is a major fucking turn-on. It would do us both a lot of good if she’d be a little more quiet and terrified and not go exploring and getting into trouble.

Did the image of her on that throne embed itself into my brain? Of course it did. She’s a gorgeous girl, and I spent the bulk of my day trying not to stare at her tits through that translucent shirt.

But she’s my son’s girl—past, present, future, doesn’t matter. What the fuck is wrong with me?