Mr. Quinton?
It couldn’t be him, right? No way.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I scan through my contacts and press the green button when I see her name immediately. It rings and rings, but I get her voicemail, “You’ve reached Scarlet. I’m probably at Saks with hubby’s credit card. Leave a message and I’ll ring you right after I grab Starbucks.” A long beep sounds.
“Scar, it’s Han. Just checking in. It’s been so long. Give me a call and we’ll do lunch.”
I click the red button to end the call and swivel my chair to stare out the window. I rotate my phone in my hand, hitting my thigh with each turn, I flip it. It has to be a coincidence, but with that asshole being friends with Todd, I can see the referral happening over scotch at the club. Todd’s annoying voice in my head, ‘Roarke Baldwin got me everything I didn’t deserve. Hannah can spare it, she’s still sitting on millions.’
Since Scarlett doesn’t call back, I decide to conduct a social media stalking. Surely, if they’re divorcing, Facebook or Instagram will reflect that. Going on my own Instagram account, I’m reminded that I suck at social media. The last picture I posted was the day I got Lucy and some lame comments from my friends are there saying they miss me. If they miss me so much why don’t they pick up a phone and call me?
I click on Scarlett’s profile and a million pictures of her, David, and the kids are the first thing I see. They’re on a beach somewhere and she’s all smiles. There’s another with David’s arm swung over her shoulders with a caption explaining that it was date night. They’ve all been taken within the last month.
I’m drawing the wrong conclusions. I mean we’re in a city of millions, surely there’s another Quinton around who could afford Roarke’s services.
My phone buzzes with a text and I hope it’s from Scarlett, but it’s Roarke.
Roarke: Here’s a caterer, I’ve used him and he’s good. Maybe try him out.
Listed is a name and phone number, nothing else. No company name or address to visit.
Since I’m already on my computer, I type in Google and find nothing. What am I missing here?
Roarke: Counting the hours until six. By the way, you and Lucy are spending the weekend at my place.
Me: You don’t dictate what I do.
Roarke: My bad…will you and your overzealous dog spend the weekend with me and Nickel?
Me: You forgot the magic word.
Roarke: Orgasm?
I giggle and Victoria smiles into my office as she passes by.
Me: Wrong word.
Roarke: Cunnilingus?
Me: Wrong again. I’m inspecting my nails now.
Roarke: Please will my Firecracker agree to spend the weekend at my house, so I can fuck you until your throat is hoarse from screaming and your body is limp. Better?
Me: Well, thank you for the please. I could have done without the other stuff.
Roarke: I don’t believe you. Want me to continue? Shut your office door.
Me: I have to call this mysterious caterer who has no reviews.
Roarke: If I was there I’d have you bent over your desk and my hand would be slapping your ass while I drove into you.
Me: Well you’re not.
Roarke: I have two minutes before my meeting. I can get you off if you just hike up that skirt.
Me: How do you know I’m wearing a skirt?
I had left his place early this morning and changed at my house.
Roarke: I always visualize you with a dress or skirt on. Easy access in my fantasies. ;)
Me: You are something, all right.
Roarke: I’m all yours. So no quickie orgasm? My client is starting to give me the stink eye.
Me: You have a client with you right now!?
Roarke: I told you, we’re waiting for the meeting to start.
Me: And you were going to talk dirty to me?
Roarke: I think I’ve proven that I’m a multi-tasker.
Me: Bye, Roarke. See you tonight.
Roarke: I’ll be thinking about how wet you are. See you at six. Give the guy a call, he’s good. Promise.
I have a feeling that man will forever keep me surprised.
Trusting Roarke has been easy in the few short weeks we’ve been together and I know he’d never give me a reference he wasn’t more than one hundred percent sure would deliver, so I pick up my cell phone and dial the number he sent me.
At six on the dot, I walk into Torrio’s and I’m not surprised to find Roarke there already waiting. His gaze stays on me the entire journey to my usual table and I’m not embarrassed to admit that yes, I do add a little extra flare to my hips, just for viewing pleasure.
“Just so you know, this table is mine,” I say.
There aren’t assigned tables at Torrio’s, but me and the girls always sit at this same one.
“You’re not going to share with your boyfriend?” he asks, putting on a lost puppy dog expression.
I slide into the opposite side of the circular booth, but he slides closer to the middle, patting the space right next to him.
“Do I have to beg for a hello kiss?” he asks as though I’d have a choice. Not that I’m about to deny a lip-tingling kiss from him.
“Boyfriend?” I ask once we part and a Vesper is placed in front of me by the waiter. “Thanks, Lincoln.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about Linc knowing your drink order and not me.” His raised eyebrows pull a giggle from me.
“Jealous much?” I tease.
“When it comes to you, green is my color.” He tips his drink to his lips.
Maybe alarms should be setting off in my mind, but I love the fact that he’d be jealous of another man. God knows, Todd never was. Still, the strong independent woman inside of me says I don’t want some caveman who pounds his fist to anyone who gets within a mile radius. But the lovesick teenage girl who’s still there says a little jealousy is a compliment.
“Nothing to be jealous about, I would never do that to someone.” I push back the crippling lack of self-esteem that suffocated me when I found out about Todd’s cheating.
“It’s not you I’m worried about. I know what happens in a guy’s mind. The fact is that I envisioned you naked when you sat across from me for the first time in that discovery meeting.” He leans closer not finishing his sentence. “It didn’t do the reality justice.”
His fingers skim along my thigh and I press into his touch, always craving more.
“I thought you were going to feed me?” I ask, wanting to speed this night along so we can get back to either one of our apartments.
“After we finish our drinks. Tell me about your day. Did you call Jett?” He continues to sip his scotch neat and I bring the Vesper to my lips, the citrus flavor bursting on my taste buds.
I nod but move us to another topic that’s peaked my interest. “We could’ve gone anywhere, why here?” I have a feeling he’s a little more caveman than I originally thought.
I’ve noticed a few men’s gazes cast over to our table, spurring hushed whispers between them.
He chuckles, sipping his drink again. “Can I get anything by you?”