Mr. Fucability

A special Thanks to SecretHotMama for her editing services! Her time and efforts are much appreciated. Any mistakes you may find, although I tried to fix all of them, are all on me. To everyone reading: Thanks for reading the last installment of Mr. Fuckability. I wouldn't be this far without you.

Chapter 7

I'm not going to meet the girls at

Monuts

as originally planned. I phoned them instead making the excuse that I was too tired since it was nearly six in the morning by the time I'd found my way home. I promised to meet them for lunch on Wednesday and fill them in on all the highlights of my night. Being exhausted isn't the real reason I'm not going; I found myself curiously not ready to tell them about him.

You would think I would want to brag from the mountain, and I did, but I also wanted to keep every savory detail as if sharing it with the others would take some precious bit away. He had been amazing, sometimes frightening, always clever, and by far the hottest guy I had ever slept with or probably ever would. Well, that thought was just depressing even if most likely accurate. In the end though, things had turned somehow different, and I didn't know how to explain them to myself let alone someone else.

After sleeping half the morning away, I turn on the TV to watch a few old sappy movies and eat high calorie snacks. I'm still in my PJ's , which consist of a large T-shirt and cotton panties. In general, I'm mooning about as if I've broken up my boyfriend; which is stupid, because I know that I never had a chance of having him for keeps in the first place. Some men are like cosmic events. They shoot through your life, light up the heavens, but are destined to fade from your view just as quickly into the night sky.

It still doesn't stop me from day dreaming about him at random times throughout the afternoon or remembering the wild things we did. My breath catches in my throat every time I remember the reckless, powerfully seductive way he made me feel. I think idly about practicing my speech again, but the thought just makes me remember more about our time together.

Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, Mr. Green Eyes had been right about rehearsing the speech naked. It may have been a ploy to get me to prance around without my skivvies on in front of him, but it had also succeeded in giving me the confidence to know I was going to be able to say it in front of the board. I could recite it by memory at this point.

Somewhere between the ice cream sundae and the Twizzler's affair I had an epiphany. I didn't need this man around to be the confident, sexy, woman I had been with him.

I know sometimes it takes me a minute.

All I really need is to bolster the self-confidence that he had brought out in me. Sure it would be nicer to have the man around who had made me feel that way, but that wasn't practical.

I could still run over to the penthouse and try to chase him down. I knew which one, there was a chance that he was still there. But I wouldn't.

I've had enough hurt in the last five years keeping up with Mom. What I need is some normalcy, some slow and steady for a while. I'm not ready to add the crazy mix of a guy into my life, even if he is smoking hot. Sometimes you just have to draw a line and stick to it, but damn, why did it have to be him? He was so...so...I let it go with a deep sighing of resignation. He is probably gone anyway. I head up to take a shower and get an early start on Monday; moping around isn't solving anything.

I wake up still a little sore between my legs, a smile on my face and the memory of his taste on my lips. I can tell this is going to be a reoccurring dream for a long time to come. I almost wish I'd stolen his underwear just so I would have something to remember him by. That thought brings a grin to my face as I remember what he'd said; if he didn't have something to show for it he might not believe it himself. Now, I had a much better understanding of what he had meant by that.

I sigh dreamily doing a quick survey of bodily damages. All in all, I feel really good. I stretch and crawl out of bed aware of every muscle I have abused. I have a few bruises in odd places that make me smile and a nice purple ring that looks like a perfect bite mark on my shoulder that makes me shiver. At least the red dot I acquired from the bar has faded without a mark, so that is a plus.

I hit the radio as I head into the shower and turn it to a classic rock station that sings about a woman who has a man on his knees, and a girl named Sue that can't stick around. I have an extra bounce in my step this morning, and an air of confidence that is new, shiny, and begging for a test drive. I take extra time putting myself together.

I head to the closet pulling out a black dress and short jacket, add in my favorite Vera Wang heels, toss with my teardrop diamond studs and voila. Done.

I roll my hair into the normal, neat bun out of habit. I get a look at myself in the mirror and rip it out. I don't want to be that girl anymore. Now that I have tasted the dark side of my personality I have no intention of going back.

I let my lips curl up in that half smile I learned from him. Not a bad impersonation if I do say so myself. My hair falls in golden curls that run down my back. I toss my head to loosen them. Better. Much better. Now I look more like the girl that isn't afraid to talk trash to a man she barely knows in an elevator.

I choose the dark red lipstick I haven't used since last Halloween over my normal neutral gloss. The color brings out the blue in my eyes and shapes my lips in provocative way. I look pretty good, but there is still something missing. I grab the black eyeliner and darken my eyes adding a touch of mascara.

I try out my new half smile and feel an odd thrill run up my spine. It isn't fear, and it isn't embarrassment, the two emotions I know best, this is something new. As if somewhere down deep within myself I've crossed over a line that night, a knowledge of myself that I can't undo even if I wanted to.

Mr. Fuckability gave me permission to be myself without any repercussions. The dirtiest bad girl I could muster up and I have risen to the challenge. It was our experience that gave me the new knowledge I have of myself. He has done a lot to encourage the change, but in the end it's me that has made the decision to not go back. It's me that will have to find the courage to choose to free myself from what I thought I should be into whom I want to be now.

I look at the sultry blonde in the mirror and thought, Why didn't I meet you before? "You got this in the sack, kid." I tell the stranger in the mirror as I watch her dark red lips curl to form the words. The black eyeliner showcases eyes a crystalline blue. She is a woman that I do not recognize, and I like that.

I am still on my post coital epiphany when I reach the office ten minutes early. My boss looks like Mr. Magee but goes by Alfred. He worries his hands a lot so seeing him in this condition doesn't really alarm me. As I get closer he practically leapfrogs in my direction, and that does.

"Mr. Del'Acortay, he's here. They want to start the meeting as soon as possible. He says he will wait but you can tell this guy isn't good with patience."

I check my watch it's five to eight. The meeting had been scheduled for two.

What the hell?

The board members don't even come in till nine. I feel a cold sweat begin to break out on my upper lip and lower back. My nervousness suddenly ratchets up to code red and the cool exterior I have spent all morning building begins to sway under the strain. I take a deep breath needing a moment to think and then realize this is nothing. This is not a big deal. I've given this presentation naked for God sakes. I can totally do this early.

"Well," I begin, smiling calmly at Alfred. "Have one of the secretaries call all of the members and notify them of the change and see how fast we can get everyone here. Then go in there and offer him coffee. I'm going to download this power point and get it ready."

I stroll past him expecting him to rush off like usual, but he doesn't. He just stands there looking like a man who has been poleaxed; then he squints his eyes at me and stares at me as if trying to figure out a complex math problem on my forehead.

"Did you do something different with your hair?" He asks.

I try not to smile. I'd done something different with a whole lot of me, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

"Coffee." I chirp over my shoulder as I make the turn into my office.

By the time Alfred makes it back to notify me that the last of the board members have arrived, I have the presentation up, running, and already emailed to every board member, Alfred, and Mr. Del'Acortay. In short, I am ready to rock this thing.

I meet the small crowd at my door, take my tablet, and lead the group to the board room. Last week I would have quivered at the thought of leading this group, today I have a small thrill running through me as I watch them all fall into step behind me.

I toss my hair over my shoulder, take a deep breath, and opened the door to the conference room with my professional smile already in place. My eyes flow over the three people waiting on us. There is a man, woman, and

HOLY FUCK;

that is when I almost loose my strawberry Pop Tarts all over the white Berber carpet of the conference room.

Mr. Fuckability is sitting calmly, no emotion showing, between an overweight gray suite and a woman whose face looks like it has been put on too tight. My step falters as soon as I see him. Alfred smacks into my back; everything speeds up as he pushes me unexpectedly forward. I stumbled on my too high heels, and Mr. Fuckability is on his feet and standing in front of me just as I yelp and lose my fight with gravity. I huff out a gust of air as I collided with his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around me in an attempt to steady me against him.

He looks down into my eyes, a crooked smile curving his lips. It's an expression that I had last seen on him while naked. My blood boils up to the exact temperature of cat-in-heat, and I can't seem to find enough oxygen to formulate words.

"Hi." His grin widens.

My bottom jaw falls open to resemble the hollow-eyed, gaping-mouthed mask from the movie Scream. I am almost afraid I will lean in the inch that separates our lips and kiss him in front of everyone and more afraid he will let me.

I push away from him before I can give into temptation, but he is not ready to let me go, and I end up doing a horrible see-saw effect that leaves me banging my head against his chin. His arms fall away with a grunt just as I push back from him.

Unfortunately, Alfred is standing behind me again, and I am wearing heels so when I step on his soft moccasins, it is sort of like spearing him. I can't really blame him for jumping back, grabbing his foot, and howling like a wild beast or the dirty looks he shoots my way. I will, however, take no blame in the fact that he chooses to jump backwards into the line of board members trying to enter, causing a fallout scene nothing short of a three stooge's reenactment.

Mr. Fuckability curses under his breath and reaches out to take me. Once again, pulling me back to him and out of the way just as Alfred veers forward pushed by the momentum of the people behind him. I end up in an up close, and personal embrace with a potential client and Alfred ends up on the floor. It takes a good ten minutes to give everyone a chance to, successfully, walk through the door, apologize to Mr. F, shoot me a dirty look, and find their seats. I think Alfred should have to share some of the blame in the calamity, after all he is the one who ran into everyone else, not me, but as I sit at the table looking at the faces of my peers I understand that this is not the case.

Shit.

That shell of confidence I have spent all morning building lays shattered into sharp splinters at my feet as I stare at my folded hands on the mahogany table. Mr. Fuckab...Mr. Del'Acortay sits directly across from me wearing an unwrinkled, perfectly cut, classic black Armani suite and bright red silk tie. As always, he looks unruffled and mouth-wateringly fabulous, which is the reason why I am still looking at my hands.

Fuck, could this get any worse?

I know I need to start the meeting. I have a presentation to give and my company expects me to salvage this deal. It's not like I haven't negotiated with this man before. I try to reassure myself. The problem is I'm not sure what the ethics committee will do to me if they ever find out. A sound somewhat like that of a strangled squirrel escapes my mouth as I notice a red ring around his wrist where his skin is chafed. I watch, enthralled, as long fingers subtly reach out to tug down his shirt cuff as he clears his throat. I close my eyes and try not to think about all the things that we did to put those red marks there or how good he had looked while doing it. There is a long uncomfortable silence building in the room and I try to rein in my wayward thoughts.

He holds his hand out into my line of vision. I look up at him. "Marco Del'Acortay, and you are?" I can't keep the smirk off my face. He did warn me he always got what he wanted.

"Danielle Rodrigues." I take the offered hand and shake it politely.

It's just a half second stutter, but it's enough for me to know that he caught it. One moment he is moving, a sudden pause, then back to moving.

I am the only person in the room that catches it, but that's probably because I'm looking for it. I know I am in trouble when his lips form that thin hard line and his emerald eyes flare. It is the exact moment he realizes that I had given him a false last name that night.

"Gentleman." His voice cracks like thunder, sharp and booming through the room. Every head in the room turns to him, everyone but mine. My hands are very fascinating. You would stare at them too if given similar circumstances.

"I have some additional business to attend to. It will only be a moment, and I apologize for the inconvenience, but I'm going to have to insist on commandeering your board room for a moment. Would you mind stepping out?" He frames his request as a question, but it is a command and everyone in the room knows it. Chairs immediately begin hissing against the carpet and bodies moving towards the door. My heart is pounding in a low and nauseating beat as it slowly sinks from my chest into the pit of my guts. I close my eyes wanting nothing more than to melt into the seat I am still sitting in. There is no way out of this for me. I am going to have to remove myself from this deal. What will I tell the board? Oh, I'm sorry. I can't be involved in this transaction because twenty-four hours ago I was negotiating sexual positions with your future client.

Shit! Double Shit!

I want to beat my head against the table screaming

WHY ME

but it's a luxury that I can't afford right now. Most of the people in the room, both his and mine, have already made their way to the exit. I push myself gingerly to my feet hoping like hell my knees will hold me. I'll think of something. There has to be a reasonable explanation I can come up with that will appease the curiosity of the board for why I can no longer lead this deal. What ever it is, I need it fast because I'm only going to have a few moments before we are all called back in here.

"Not you, Ms. Rodrigues. You stay." His voice is deep and commanding giving nothing away, but I still cringe. He knows I lied to him, and he strikes me as a man that doesn't take that well. This is going to be massively unpleasant. Everyone has left the boardroom, but the sense of privacy is nonexistent since the walls are made of glass.

He waits until everyone is out and walks over to shut the door before returning to his seat in front of me. He leans back in a leather chair, sexy smirk in place, acting like he owns this joint. I look around at all the empty chairs. I've never seen this place clear so fast. I guess he does have justification for his arrogance.

"Aren't you going to deliver your presentation?" He asks voice like an arctic draft. "Apparently I already have." I say miserably, falling back down into the chair across from him. His eyes rake over my face, dark, intense, searching. His smile is slow to form.

"I'm sure I would have liked it much better the first time anyway." He wipes his hand across his mouth lasciviously as if remembering the taste of something sweet.

My cheeks catch fire at the memory of the taste, my taste, that he could be referring to. The heat turns nuclear as I remember prancing around his dining room table, bare assed, pointing at charts and rattling off numbers as the first light of morning passes through the east side windows.

He's remembering it too; I can see it all over his face, but the memory doesn't have the same effect on him. He isn't embarrassed at all. His eyes darken, his lips part on a heavy intake of breath. His hands, which have been lying relaxed on the table, twitch as if he wants to reach for me but thinks better of it.

"Rodrigues?" He raised a dark brow at me, lips forming a tight hard line. I nodded in affirmation looking down.

Oh boy, here we go

..."I swear I didn't know who you were." I say still looking at the table.

"I know you didn't." He sighs. "I want to be furious with you for giving me the wrong name, but the truth is. I have kept something from you too."

That brings my head up.

"I knew who you were the whole time." His eyes held mine.

I felt my mouth drop open. Again with the Scream mask. "How?"

"I was researching the firm for business reasons. Your picture and bio are listed."

"You were preparing for the meeting and found me. Of course!" I smack my hand to my head. Jesus I wonder if the last guy had to. Of course, he wasn't a potential client so probably not.

Oh Jesus, What had I been thinking? Of course my picture is on the company web site. Why had I not thought of that before?

He shakes his head slowly, watching me, waiting for me to recover, then licks his lips.

"No." He says drawing out the word in a way that makes me uneasy.

"I found your picture before Saturday; months before, actually. The bar was a lucky fluke. I was planning on using the contract as an excuse to take you out to dinner."

"Wait, if you knew me already then why did you keep asking me for my name?"

"Because, I wanted you to break the rules for me. I wanted you to tell me yourself." He leans his elbows on the table, using his fingers to form a temple, then bringing them to his lips, studying me for a moment. "You see Danielle, I've been trying to think of how to get you into bed for months. Now that I've had you there I'm not prepared to give that up."

It takes me a minute to get my mouth to close and realign my brain into thinking position. "Why me?" I couldn't fathom why a man like him would even take notice of me. It's not that I don't think I have my good points, but this man was on the cover of Forbes for God sakes.

"I imagine most women must throw themselves at you trying to gain your attention." I say picking at my sleeve. "I can't image my bio would compare."

That almost-smile toys at the edges of his lips and his eyes flash like backlit emeralds. "Then why don't you want to be with me?"

I open my mouth, find it empty of retort, and snap it shut again. Why didn't I want to be with him again? He sighs wearily and sits back in his seat.

"Most people want something from me more than they actually want me. You don't. I like you." His smile grows considerably more pronounced, the corners jumping in that enduring, near familiar way. "You make me laugh and you definitely keep things interesting."