The Mistress ✓

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Excuse any errors.

I'm seated at the table across from the Voodoo Kings' assistant general manager, the public relations director, and the special event coordinator of the football team when Miley, one of my waitresses, brings out the first flight of whiskey.

If anyone thinks I'm above getting these men drunk, they'd be wrong. They have the power to sign the contract that will help haul my company's ass out of hot water, and that means I have no choice but to get this contract signed. 

Am I proud of it? Not particularly. Am I willing to do it anyway? Absolutely. Am I also thanking the good Lord above that not a single one of the people sitting across the table from me is a female and would likely see right through my ploy? Damn right.

"Gentlemen, let's start this meeting off properly---with a delicious whiskey made in our hometown in the Trinidadian tradition of my family." I reach for a glass and lift it toward the center of the table. 

They each grab their own glass. None of them seem to notice Tiffany doesn't. While I've been sipping on whiskey like mother's milk for fifteen years, she barely drinks at all. I tease her about being a cheap date.

Each man raises a glass, and we clink the rims together.

"Cheers," I say as a burst of vibration unleashes between my legs, and I nearly drop my drink. 

The men tip back their whiskey, not noticing that I'm struggling to lift mine to my lips because of the waves of pleasure tearing through me. 

I chug the drink, needing it more than ever, and shift in my chair, praying this is going to stop as quickly as the last one. 

The assistant GM leans forward, his eyes not on mine, but on the deep V cut of my blouse.

"So, Nicki. I understand you've been doing a hell of good job with the distillery since you took the helm from Robert."

I'm too distracted by the vibrations between my legs to decide if he's giving me a compliment or mocking me.

"The last few months have been a little trying, but like my ancestors, I push forward." I have no idea where that response comes from, and force my lips to curve into a smile as an orgasm builds in my core. "Tenacity and the caribbean go hand in... hand." I struggle to get the last word out. 

I'm in serious danger of coming when the vibrations suddenly stop. I don't know if I want to kill the woman with the remote or kiss her for not making me embarrass myself in public.

Kiss her? Are you freaking insane, Onika?

The pleasure recedes as quickly as it started.

Never. I'll be like freaking Lara Jean in 'To all the boys I've loved before.' No kissing. Ever. I'm making it a rule.

"Tenacious, indeed. Must go along with with that hair of yours. Do you have the temper to match?"

Again, the assistant GM's eyes are on my cleavage, and I can't help but look down in response. 

Oh. Fuck.

My nipples, in the sheer bra Fenty picked, are on high beams. They clearly haven't gotten the memo that there's no longer an orgasm coming. 

I return my glass to the table harder than necessary, and the thwack of glass against metal causes his eyes to jerk up to my face.

"I don't have a temper. That's just a stereotype." I smile as I lie, something I'm entirely too good at today for comfort. "Now, let's discuss the amazing package we've put together for you."