We’re met at the airport by a car service. Minutes later, we’re pulling up to the famous Sun Valley Resort, our car idling behind others headed for the same conference. Emery peeks through the window, watching as each car stops, doors opened by a valet. She identifies each guest as they exit their cars. She’s definitely done her research.
“That’s James Tyler,” she says. “CEO of Paradigm. Net worth, 56 million. A relatively low player. And that’s Marianne Cooper, CEO and founder of Cooper Industries. She’s—”
“—one of the ones we need to be on the lookout for,” I finish. “Yes, exactly.”
I get a look at Marianne through the window over Emery’s shoulder. She’s in her mid-fifties with a short, severe-looking bob. She’s in a power suit, clicking past a huddle of men in polos and shorts.
“Why do they all look so…casual?” Emery asks, following my line of vision.
“Some of these guys think they’re too successful to dress like they are,” I say. “They think the more billions they have, the slouchier and dumpier they’re allowed to look. Trying to be the next Zuckerberg or Steve Jobs, I guess. Or perhaps, they think dressing like a frat boy makes them look younger, who the fuck knows.”
Emery glances back at me, making a bit of a hum in her throat. “I prefer a suit, I believe.”
Her eyes are pools of warm brown, and they dip down to where my cock twitches in my trousers at her compliment. Up front, the driver clears his throat.
“We’re up next, Mr. Duke,” he says.
Valets swarm the car, grabbing our luggage and opening our doors. One of them, a particularly eager kid, nearly trips over himself to take Emery’s hand to help her out. She laughs, high and tinkling, and the smile he gives back to her is like someone who’s been gifted the sun.
“Deliver these to my room,” I tell him, thrusting a hundred into his hand. “Quickly.”
He blinks and scurries off to make it happen, and Emery raises an eyebrow at me.
“I don’t want to have to wait around,” I tell her. “We have networking to do.”
She just smiles, bobs her head in a quick nod, and follows me. The resort is spread out, made to look like a giant, expensive cabin set against a mountain backdrop. There are lush green grounds, and people whiz past us on bicycles. These people are, of course, fellow attendees. The resort was fully booked for this week’s retreat, and no one without prior approval is allowed on the grounds. There are probably paparazzi waiting at the precise point that they’re allowed to be, with their long lenses desperate to capture the comings and goings of the event’s elites.
“Up this way,” I tell Emery, placing my hand on her back before I remember where I am and how many eyes could be looking. Dropping my hand, I take a quick glance around. No one’s paying us close attention, but everyone’s doing the cursory glance of who’s here. I spot a few that I recognize, but besides our earlier sighting of Marianne, no one that I need to stop and talk to is here yet.
“Let’s check in,” I say. “Over here.”
It’s easy to tell that every employee working today is well aware of the tip potential this conference will bring. Every smile is permanently planted on their faces, and their voices are just a little too high. I shift uncomfortably as we approach a young woman at the counter, her round face smiling eagerly.
“Welcome to Sun Valley, Idaho,” she chirps. “We hope you had pleasant travels. Can I get you checked in?”
“Oh, sure,” Emery says, cutting me off before I can say anything. “Um, Emery Mills?”
“And Harrison Duke,” I say. “We’re in separate rooms.”
Emery glances at me. She knows that this is just for appearance’s sake. I don’t plan to let her out of my bedroom for any longer than necessary.
“Of course,” she says. “Looks like the paperwork was taken care of in advance, so let me just get you your keys.”
She slides one of those cardboard key envelopes to Emery, with, no doubt, a plastic key for a standard room. Then, she hands me mine, which I know contain keycards for a luxury suite.
“We hope you enjoy your stay,” she says. “And please enjoy the complimentary gifts and let us know if anything is wrong with your suite, Mr. Duke.”
She eyes me, a bit of hunger in her eyes. Emery isn’t the only one who can turn a head here, apparently.
“Thank you,” Emery says, turning me around. As we walk away, she hands me her key envelope.
“I won’t be needing that, will I?” she asks, batting her eyelashes at me.
“No,” I practically growl. “You most certainly will not need that.”
We’re about to work our way to the lobby when a big, booming voice cuts through the noise.
“Harrison Duke!” the voice calls out.
I turn and see a crowd of older men at the bar, one of them with a long beard. I recognize the man as Geoffrey Paulson, an associate that I’ve known since I first got into the business. He’s got a drink in hand, probably a brandy unless things have changed, and he’s waving me over to the group. I sigh. If I’m going to have to network, he’s an easy place to start. He might also be able to give me some insight on the Pink situation since he’s known to have fairly loose lips. Besides, he’s harmless, and in a week filled with plenty of predators, he’ll be a nice way to ease in.
“You go get settled,” I tell Emery, slipping a key for my suite into her little cardboard envelope and passing it back to her. “I’m going to stop at the bar.”
She nods. “Great. I’ll be down in a bit.” She gives me a small smile and then turns around, heading off to the golden elevators that aren’t far off. I force myself to turn away from her and into the bar, where top shelf liquor’s sloshing in crystal glasses.
“There you are,” Geoffrey says. “Knew you’d be here. Was just telling the guys that I couldn’t wait to catch up with world-famous Harrison Duke.”
I try to smile. It’s odd, how fake my own smiles feel to me when they’re not directed at Emery. “It’s good to see you, Geoff.”
“We were all just talking,” Geoffrey says, waving to the suits behind him who have turned into their own conversations. “And maybe you know more. Apparently, there’s a new company on the block, and they’re trying to poach clients from the rest of us.”
That perks up my ears. Sounds like my problem with Pink might be a common one. But I keep my face neutral.
“Is that so?”
“Some new suit,” Geoffrey says. “I haven’t heard of him before, but apparently he’s been in the business awhile, hopping from pond to pond. A guy named—”
A bout of raucous laughter at a section nearby cuts Geoffrey off. I turn and see a trio of businessmen chuckling and smirking together, their drinks nearly drained and their voices too loud. They’re younger, probably low-level executives who were lucky enough to be chosen to come here, and there’s a heavy cloud of cologne hanging over them.
“Look at her,” one of them says, gesturing with his glass. “What I wouldn’t give to get with her this week.”
Something drops in my stomach because, instinctively, I know who they’re talking about. I know who they’ve spotted. I follow their line of vision and see Emery still at the elevators, having once again run into the overeager valet. He’s talking to her with very animated hands, and she’s laughing at what must be a very stupid joke. She throws back her head and smiles, dazzling him again. They look like a matched pair, both similar ages, young and carefree and sticking out with their youthful optimism and wide-eyed excitement to be in the midst of this event. Not a drop of the boredom that is so de rigueur that it’s nearly a requirement amongst my set.
Still, my loathing of the valet cannot compare to my loathing for the men near me.
“You think she’ll fuck him?” one of them says, pointing at the valet with his glass.
Geoffrey has stopped talking. Maybe there’s more rage showing on my usually neutral face than normal. But I don’t care. I want to see what else these assholes have to say.
“Nah,” another one says. “She’s just flirting with him to get his dick hard. She’s probably here to land a rich old fucker. Gold digger potential right there. I can just tell by her mouth. That’s a girl willing to suck senior dick if the pre-nup has potential.”
If it was possible to see the heat radiating off of me, I’d be drawing far too many eyes right now. I push back from the bar, nearly sending my drink crashing. I catch it with my hand before it spills and adjust my tie.
“Excuse me, Geoffrey,” I say, not even looking at the man. “I forgot that I have an appointment.”
I push past him and stride straight towards the men, not bothering to adjust my path as I get near them. They jump apart, their overpriced drinks sloshing onto the carpet.
“What the fuck?” one of them says, and then, no doubt recognizing me, his eyes go wide.
But I don’t pause to make a scene, or give them a piece of my mind. I have some restraint left. An iota. Instead I keep going, striding straight for Emery and the valet. He sees me over her shoulder and mumbles something, stepping back from her as he stares at the floor.
I place my hand on her shoulder, and she spins to me, her eyes brightening at the sight of me.
“Harrison,” she says. “I thought you had business.”
“I have something else to do first,” I say, then look pointedly at the valet.
“The bags are already in your room, sir,” he says. “I’ll just—”
I reach over and press the button to our floor, my eyes never leaving him.
“You’ll be going,” I finish for him, and he nods and scuttles away. My hand hasn’t left Emery’s shoulder, and she glances at it and raises an eyebrow.
“What happened to playing professional?” Emery says, lowering her voice to a whisper.
“No,” I say. “They all need to know.”
The elevator dings, opening before us. Emery glances at it.
“Know what?”
“That you’re mine,” I say, letting my hand drop to her waist. She leans into my touch and bites her lip.
The elevator doors have barely pressed shut before her mouth is on mine.
Her lips are soft, pliant, and eager against mine, and I gather her into my arms and hoist her against the wall of the elevator as her legs wrap themselves around my hips to hold on. Our mouths move hungrily against one another, our tongues seeking and darting and dancing together. My hands cup her ass, squeezing gently as I nip at her lower lip.
“You were jealous,” she says, pulling back to kiss and whisper against my ear. “I can’t believe you.”
“Of course I was.” I’m incredulous. “What man wouldn’t be?”
She wraps her legs tighter around me, and I move one hand from holding her ass to cupping her breast. She arches against me, and I tweak her nipple through the thin fabric. She moans, her nipple hardening at my touch. I want her breasts in my mouth, and then I want to taste all of her and make her come again and again until she forgets about every other man who’s dared to look at her.
“We’re nearly to our floor,” she pants, glancing at the lit-up lights.
“Then I’ll pull the emergency break,” I say, but she swats at me before I can.
“We’re feet away from a perfectly good hotel room,” she reminds me. “And besides, aren’t you worried about someone seeing?”
No, is my first instinct. I want them to see. I want them to know that I’m the one she’s with. I’m the one who gets to have her, who gets to give her pleasure and joy. I’m the one she looks for across a room. Me, and no one else.
But I can’t say that. I sigh and let her down, her feet finding the floor. She doesn’t push me back, though, and I don’t make the move either. I stay flush against her, pressed so close that she can feel every throbbing inch of me. I want her to know how much I want her, how close I am to needing her. How easy it would be to push up her skirt and press inside her, because my want for her is unending, a constant ache.
She bites her lip and runs her hand along my jaw, leaning up so that her mouth is inches from mine.
“None of them,” she whispers, the warm air brushing against my face. “None of them could ever compare to you, Harrison. You should know that. I want you to know that,” she adds and her words are so pure, her tone so earnest, they cut me wide open.
Fuck, forget about privacy. Our room feels impossibly far away. Painfully far away. I kiss her again, hungrily, feverishly, and she kisses back, just as desperate.
The elevator dings, and we stop. Our breathing is ragged as we step apart. She straightens her hair, and I adjust my tie. Then, I look up to what I expect to be the empty floor.
Except that it isn’t empty.
Claire is there.
And one look tells me that she might not have seen everything, but she certainly saw enough.