By some miracle, no one said a word when Xavier and I emerged from my office after our, uh, session yesterday. People were still trickling in from lunch, and the staff members who were there were too busy oohing and aahing over pictures of Princess Camilla to pay us any mind.
Thank the Lord for small favors.
I’d rescheduled my meeting and forgot about Xavier’s Vuk plan until we met up for dinner the next night. He hadn’t mentioned it beyond his initial text about it.
“Two questions,” I said as we meandered through downtown. “One, what’s the plan for Vuk? And two, where are we going for dinner? I’m starving.”
“Oh, now you’re hungry,” Xavier teased, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. The warm weight sent a swarm of butterflies diving and whirling in my stomach. “Yet you kicked me out when I tried to take you to lunch.”
“Because I remember what happened yesterday during lunch. I got zero work done.” I attempted a haughty look but ended up blushing at the sly glance he sent my way.
I did that a lot more these days, blushing. It was enough to drive a blush hater like me mad.
“I’m aware.” Xavier’s drawl went molten with desire. “You look good bent over your desk, Luna. Especially when your pussy is dripping with my—”
“Xavier.” The flush escalated to a five-alarm fire.
I glanced around us, convinced every other person on the sidewalk could hear his filthy words. I wasn’t a prude, but I didn’t want all the random Janes and Joes to know about my sex life either.
He laughed. “Fine. I’ll save the dirty talk for the hotel.”
The hotel? “Where exactly are we going?” I asked, my voice rife with suspicion.
“You’ll see. Ask me another question.”
“I hate your evasiveness.”
“You love it because you love surprises.”
“I’m a Virgo. I hate surprises.” Except for the Sunday meetup with Pen, but that didn’t count.
“Ask me another question, Luna,” Xavier said, ignoring my perfectly serviceable astrology argument. I was a firm supporter of hard science, but astrology was too fun to give up.
“Fine,” I grumbled. I was intrigued by what he had planned, but I’d never admit it. I didn’t need him springing surprises on me left and right. “The one you skipped. What was the Vuk plan you came up with?”
“The Vuk plan. Right.” We turned left onto a quiet street. “What are the driving forces behind every successful businessman? Why do they do what they do?”
Easy. “Money, power, and fame.”
“There’s one more.”
A furrow dug between my brows. “Ego? No, that falls under the other three. Revenge? Ambition? Spite?”
Xavier side-eyed me. “Passion.”
“Oh.” I wrinkled my nose. “Not as good as spite.”
That was what had driven me to build Kensington PR into what it was today. Yes, I was passionate about what I did, and yes, I needed the income, but during my darkest moments and most sleepless nights, spite was the fire that kept the darkness at bay.
I’d wanted to prove I could thrive without my family’s money or support, and I had. They wanted me to fail and ask for their help; I would rather tie the last brick of my business to my feet and jump into the Hudson before I gave them that satisfaction.
That was just me though. Maybe other people were different. “Perhaps not,” Xavier said dryly. “But I’ve been doing some research into Vuk, and he has an interesting history. Do you know how Markovic Holdings started?” I shook my head.
“Vuk worked for a small distillery in his hometown in high school. He loved the place but hated how it was run, so he hustled and saved until he had enough money to buy it outright after college. He studied chemical engineering, and after he took over the distillery, he revolutionized the vodka-making process to create…”
“Markovic Vodka,” I finished, naming the world’s most popular vodka brand.
“Exactly. Obviously, he’s come a long way since then, but the point is, this wasn’t a man who went into the business for money or fame. He saw something he loved, thought he could do it better, and did do it better. It took years and a shit ton of work, but he did it. That’s passion.” Xavier shook his head. “That was my mistake. I appealed solely to his business side and forgot about the heart.” I smiled. Vuk wasn’t the only passionate one; I’d never heard Xavier so fired up about something until the club.
“Appealing to his other side is a good idea,” I said. “When’s your next meeting with him?”
“Tomorrow. The problem is, I don’t have a frame for my pitch. I didn’t exactly grow up dreaming of being a nightclub owner.”
“No, but I distinctly remember a pile of discarded bar sketches in Colombia. They’re a start.”
“They’re also in the trash. In Colombia,” he pointed out.
“I’m guessing if you had them there, you’ll have some lying around here.” I arched an eyebrow. “I’ve seen your house. You still have a trophy for winning Biggest Flirt at prep school.”
“Hey, that trophy is made of solid fake gold. It’s worth its weight in sentimentality.” Xavier’s teeth flashed white against his tanned skin. “But you might be right about some old sketches lying around.”
“That’s why people pay me the big bucks,” I quipped.
We walked for another five minutes before we stopped in front of a charming brick building. Ivy blanketed its walls, and a peek through the glass door revealed an elegantly appointed lobby filled with plants and rich fabrics.
“It’s a new family-owned boutique hotel,” Xavier said. “It opened just a few months ago, but its restaurant serves some of the best Thai food in the city.”
