Page 78 of King of Hollywood

Staring at the two cats gave me an idea for my next date with Felix, however, so it ended up not being a waste of time after all.

My own discomfort was well worth it when the following Thursday—after I’d done some more extensive research—we arrived at our destination and Felix’s eyes went wide with wonder.

“A cat cafe?” He asked, flabbergasted. “What does that mean?”

Proudly, my chest puffed up as I held the door open for him. I’d worn my favorite sweater vest— a sacrifice, as you can probably guess, as cat hair and fancy sweaters did not mesh well. Actually…perhaps they meshed too well. If the wiggly, stubborn hair that never fucking came out after it had snuck into the grain of the fabric was any indication.

I’d wanted to look my best because I was bound and determined to touch Felix’s ass tonight.

Over clothes, you whore.

I had thus far been unsuccessful in my mission, but that was going to change.

Felix was dressed like he normally was, a soft pastel sweater and crisp trousers. The only difference was the fact his bare ankles were showing above his leather loafers. No show socks, what a slut.

That little strip of bare skin made me weak-kneed every time I saw it. The entire drive I’d been panting after him, gaze flicking down over and over, spying on the skin for later appreciation.

The inappropriate looks didn’t stop. In fact, they only grew more frequent over the span of the next two hours—as we sipped coffee and sat amongst a harem of frisky, furry beasts. Every time one touched me, I jumped, and Felix laughed, seemingly as delighted by my antics as he was the cats.

We were the only couple there. Which I knew would be the case, as once again, I had bought out the cafe for privacy.

Only the best for Felix.

Winnie said I was ridiculous—seeing as he’d been fine when we’d gone to the fair. But I was nothing if not thorough. And besides…I had…maybe—a lot of money. Okay, fine. I was loaded. That’s what happens when you become CFO in your twenties and put all your money into stocks.

I didn’t mind spending my small fortune on Felix.

Hell, I wasn’t going to spend it on myself.

Aside from my wardrobe and my Mercedes, I rarely spent money at all.

Most of it went toward Christmas, and even then, I was never exorbitant. My sisters had always been the kind of people that valued quality time and handmade gifts over money. Which was incredibly frustrating, as I didn’t like to offer my time—and I hated getting my hands dirty with anything but blood. Which I suppose…was the point.

Probably.

Anyway—

There was a mangy cat that sat in one of the ridiculous boxy enclosures in the corner of the cafe. The woman who worked the desk informed us that they were called “cat igloos” and I was…morbidly fascinated.

He was skinny and weak, with a patchy pelt and large brown eyes. He reminded me of some of the barn cats that had wandered free around the farm when I was a child. There was a wild, wicked look to him—almost feral, though still skittish. Felix tried to coax him out multiple times to no avail.

Unfortunately, the one and only time I beckoned him closer—to try to help, obviously, not because I wanted to touch the cat—he’d come immediately. Felix was so delighted he practically danced next to me, vibrating happily as he watched enraptured as the small cat sat his bony ass right down in my lap and started to purr.

“He’s got good taste,” Felix hummed, grinning at me from where he sat cross-legged on the other side of our small, round table. He’d barely touched his coffee and I’d been the one to eat his croissant. He was going to waste it. I wasn’t sure why I’d bought it in the first place when I knew that.

“He does?” I blinked, holding stock-still.

“You’ve got a lovely lap, Marshall.” Felix blinked, faux-innocently, the cad. “If I was that size, I don’t think I’d ever leave it.” His voice was a slow, sweet purr. Even sweeter than the little thing buzzing on my lap. His damn ankles mocked me, and I swallowed, my cock threatening to jerk to life.

“You’re such a whore,” I told him immediately, cheeks flushed.

Felix cackled, head tossed back in delight.

“You’ve been waiting all night to call me that, haven’t you?” I glared at him, eyes narrowed. “You keep staring at my ankles like I’m walking around naked.”

“Because you are.”

“Huh,” Felix blinked, head cocking to the side. His eyes were dancing, so I knew he was teasing, even though he really was a slut with his damn ankles out like that. “I thought I was wearing clothes?” He plucked at his very nice, very soft sweater thoughtfully.