When a struggling Broadway talent agent reluctantly agrees to represent a male stripper, she finds out there's more to her new client than oiled abs.
Season 1 of Strip in the City
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Today might be the worst day of my life. I just lost my biggest c...
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Despite the hot hookup I'd just had in the bathroom with West, I went back to the table–tugging on my skirt to make sure my ass wasn't hanging out–and did the responsible thing: I told Orlando I needed time to consider his offer and consult an attorney.
Orlando appeared unsurprised by my request, but the slight tick in his jaw and the way he flexed his fingers told me he was disappointed I hadn't jumped on his offer right away.
"How's one day sound, Maren?"
"A day? No, I need at least a week," I countered.
"Come on, Maren," Orlando said, leaning back in his chair. Ankle crossing over knee. "This is a good deal."
I dragged my tongue over my teeth, trying to look coy. Orlando couldn't know how tempting his deal was. "It's going to take my attorney a day to even look at this contract. Then I'll have to wait for her to read it and respond, and we know how long that could take—"
Orlando drew in a deep breath, interrupting my bullshit excuse. DeShauna would have the whole thing read and marked up by tomorrow morning, whether I told her to take her time or not. I seriously envied her Virgo energy.
"Okay, fine. Two days," Orlando conceded. "But only because I want you to read through this carefully and realize what a good offer this is."
Orlando Blackfield grinned back at me with all the confidence of a good-looking man intent on getting what he wanted. I was sure he rarely heard no—not from his employees, clients, or women.
When I stood, Orlando did too, buttoning the top button of his navy blue jacket. His hazel eyes flicked over my shoulder, and a sly smile broke across his face. "Remember, Maren, if you agree to these terms, Blackfield Talent is not taking on your pool boy as a client."
I nodded, not meeting his eye. I certainly remembered that part of his offer. "I understand."
After paying the bill, Orlando and I walked downstairs in awkward silence. I could tell there was something else on his mind.
"Just say whatever you're thinking, Blackfield," I finally said when he lingered outside the restaurant.
The agent dipped his chin, toying with the gold button on his suit jacket. "I'm going to a birthday party tomorrow night." His gaze lifted to mine. "Wanna join me?"
I let out a long sigh, laughing as I looked away. This man did not like hearing no. He was determined to get one yes out of me tonight.
"It will be fun. There's an open bar and plenty of entertainment I'm sure you'll enjoy."
Going to a birthday party with Orlando Blackfield on Saturday night was not my idea of fun. I hadn't forgotten how he watched me fall into the pool we'd just eaten beside and didn't move to help me. I didn't want to be the entertainment he was teasing, nor was I in the mood to mingle with Orlando's friends.
