All He Needs
Page 9
After a slow five count, she turned away.
Jesus, he thought glumly, watching the door shut on Miss Ismay; he couldn’t even accept a beautiful woman’s offer of sex. He was seriously fucked up. Then a highly unpleasant thought surfaced. There wasn’t a chance in hell Katherine was going without sex—not with her libido. And for a fraction of a second he thought about calling Tatiana back. But he didn’t want her; he wanted only Katherine—who could never get enough fucking, who was always ready, who was so incredibly responsive he had only to touch her and she was wet for him.
He swore under his breath, then out loud.
Christ, it was like going through withdrawal, his cravings so intense he couldn’t function normally. He was edgy, couldn’t sleep; he was drinking alone when he never did. At least he wasn’t hallucinating yet. Then he swore again. Katherine was on his mind constantly, her image stamped on his brain, and if that wasn’t hallucinating it was only a matter of interpretation.
He shoved the bottle away, then the glass.
An addiction could be overcome.
He’d dealt with worse problems in his life.
And it wasn’t as though he didn’t have countless women willing to spread their legs for him. A shame he felt no pleasure at the thought; not necessarily a rare feeling—that lack of pleasure in his life. But it was infinitely worse now after having climbed to the top of the mountain with Katherine and witnessed the great beauty of the world.
He probably shouldn’t have bolted; perhaps a less fucked-up person would have stayed.
But she’d left too.
So the riddles of the universe remained.
He absently glanced at the clock as though to confirm his location in time and space in the more prosaic world, then turned to the windows and registered brief surprise. It was completely dark. With a weary sigh, he reached for his phone, punched in a number, and spoke rapidly in French. “I’ll be down in ten minutes, Henri. No, I don’t think so. No, I’m not hungry. Just home, and then you’re free for the night.”
Pushing himself to his feet, he switched off the TVs, found his way to the door in the light from the windows facing the Quai d’Orsay, and checked the hallway in the event Miss Ismay hadn’t taken her dismissal to heart. He was grateful to find himself alone.
It would have been a huge effort to be courteous even for as long as it would take to get to the entrance doors downstairs. He wasn’t in the mood for polite conversation.
FOUR
In the next few weeks, Max and the entire staff in the Paris office were on guard around Dominic. His moodiness was undiminished, his temper volatile, his patience nonexistent.
Max had delayed going home; with his demons back in full force, Dominic needed a babysitter. But Max was finally leaving for Hong Kong and in an effort to safeguard the office staff in his absence, he broached the subject of Dominic’s ill humor. “While I’m gone,” he said, “maybe you could rachet down your temper. No one dares talk back to you except me. So take a break for a week. Okay?”
Dominic put down his pen, leaned back in his desk chair, and flexed his lips in an unpleasant smile. “You sound like my mother. And I don’t like my mother. So back off. Now, have you heard from Ross on that Amalfi Coast hotel?”
“Not yet.”
A marginal scowl. “And why the hell is that?”
“Maybe you should just go fuck her,” Max snapped. “You’ve become impossible to deal with.”
“And maybe you should shut your fucking mouth,” Dominic snapped back, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
“Jesus, Nick, lighten up. Not only did you practically tell the investors on the rare earth project to go screw themselves, but everyone in the office has been walking on eggshells every day wondering whom you’re going to savage next.”
“They get paid enough,” Dominic growled. “It goes with the territory.”
“Look, do you want me to say I was wrong about Katherine? Because I’d be more than happy to do that if it would put you in a better mood.”
Dominic gave him a venomous look. “I don’t want you to say anything about Katherine ever.”
Max shrugged; he was done playing therapist. “Fine. Suit yourself. I’ll be back in a week. Do you want anything from Hong Kong?”
“Bring Leo and Danny back with you.”
“Because of the Romanian rumors? You think the Balkan mafia threat is real? Are Gora’s in-laws really going to want that twenty million back that they stole from you?”
“Who knows? Possibly.” Dominic blew out a breath. “And I apologize.”
Max smiled faintly. “Apology accepted.”
Dominic ran his fingers through his hair and let his hands drop, restlessly flexing his fingers. “I was thinking too,” he slowly said, “with the rumors out there, Katherine should have some security. Would you round up a crew and send them to Singapore?”
“She’s in Singapore?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“By whom?”
“I doubt you know them.”
He knew everyone Nick knew, including Justin, who’d casually asked about Katherine. “I see,” Max said blandly. “Have you talked to her?”
Dominic shook his head.
“Are you going to talk to her?”
“It’s none of your concern whether I do or not.”
Max sighed. “I suppose you can’t get any worse.”
Jesus, he thought glumly, watching the door shut on Miss Ismay; he couldn’t even accept a beautiful woman’s offer of sex. He was seriously fucked up. Then a highly unpleasant thought surfaced. There wasn’t a chance in hell Katherine was going without sex—not with her libido. And for a fraction of a second he thought about calling Tatiana back. But he didn’t want her; he wanted only Katherine—who could never get enough fucking, who was always ready, who was so incredibly responsive he had only to touch her and she was wet for him.
He swore under his breath, then out loud.
Christ, it was like going through withdrawal, his cravings so intense he couldn’t function normally. He was edgy, couldn’t sleep; he was drinking alone when he never did. At least he wasn’t hallucinating yet. Then he swore again. Katherine was on his mind constantly, her image stamped on his brain, and if that wasn’t hallucinating it was only a matter of interpretation.
He shoved the bottle away, then the glass.
An addiction could be overcome.
He’d dealt with worse problems in his life.
And it wasn’t as though he didn’t have countless women willing to spread their legs for him. A shame he felt no pleasure at the thought; not necessarily a rare feeling—that lack of pleasure in his life. But it was infinitely worse now after having climbed to the top of the mountain with Katherine and witnessed the great beauty of the world.
He probably shouldn’t have bolted; perhaps a less fucked-up person would have stayed.
But she’d left too.
So the riddles of the universe remained.
He absently glanced at the clock as though to confirm his location in time and space in the more prosaic world, then turned to the windows and registered brief surprise. It was completely dark. With a weary sigh, he reached for his phone, punched in a number, and spoke rapidly in French. “I’ll be down in ten minutes, Henri. No, I don’t think so. No, I’m not hungry. Just home, and then you’re free for the night.”
Pushing himself to his feet, he switched off the TVs, found his way to the door in the light from the windows facing the Quai d’Orsay, and checked the hallway in the event Miss Ismay hadn’t taken her dismissal to heart. He was grateful to find himself alone.
It would have been a huge effort to be courteous even for as long as it would take to get to the entrance doors downstairs. He wasn’t in the mood for polite conversation.
FOUR
In the next few weeks, Max and the entire staff in the Paris office were on guard around Dominic. His moodiness was undiminished, his temper volatile, his patience nonexistent.
Max had delayed going home; with his demons back in full force, Dominic needed a babysitter. But Max was finally leaving for Hong Kong and in an effort to safeguard the office staff in his absence, he broached the subject of Dominic’s ill humor. “While I’m gone,” he said, “maybe you could rachet down your temper. No one dares talk back to you except me. So take a break for a week. Okay?”
Dominic put down his pen, leaned back in his desk chair, and flexed his lips in an unpleasant smile. “You sound like my mother. And I don’t like my mother. So back off. Now, have you heard from Ross on that Amalfi Coast hotel?”
“Not yet.”
A marginal scowl. “And why the hell is that?”
“Maybe you should just go fuck her,” Max snapped. “You’ve become impossible to deal with.”
“And maybe you should shut your fucking mouth,” Dominic snapped back, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
“Jesus, Nick, lighten up. Not only did you practically tell the investors on the rare earth project to go screw themselves, but everyone in the office has been walking on eggshells every day wondering whom you’re going to savage next.”
“They get paid enough,” Dominic growled. “It goes with the territory.”
“Look, do you want me to say I was wrong about Katherine? Because I’d be more than happy to do that if it would put you in a better mood.”
Dominic gave him a venomous look. “I don’t want you to say anything about Katherine ever.”
Max shrugged; he was done playing therapist. “Fine. Suit yourself. I’ll be back in a week. Do you want anything from Hong Kong?”
“Bring Leo and Danny back with you.”
“Because of the Romanian rumors? You think the Balkan mafia threat is real? Are Gora’s in-laws really going to want that twenty million back that they stole from you?”
“Who knows? Possibly.” Dominic blew out a breath. “And I apologize.”
Max smiled faintly. “Apology accepted.”
Dominic ran his fingers through his hair and let his hands drop, restlessly flexing his fingers. “I was thinking too,” he slowly said, “with the rumors out there, Katherine should have some security. Would you round up a crew and send them to Singapore?”
“She’s in Singapore?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“By whom?”
“I doubt you know them.”
He knew everyone Nick knew, including Justin, who’d casually asked about Katherine. “I see,” Max said blandly. “Have you talked to her?”
Dominic shook his head.
“Are you going to talk to her?”
“It’s none of your concern whether I do or not.”
Max sighed. “I suppose you can’t get any worse.”
