Page 19 of Filthy Hot Escort
According to the latest article, she was to be one of the recipients of the Award for Excellence offered by the Financial Investment Foundation. Now here he was. Dressed up in a monkey suit designed to garner attention with his press credentials in hand and a room booked in this very hotel.
Because whatever happened tonight, let it never be said that he was anything but prepared.
11
An hour later, the crowd had been corralled and seated at their tables. They were served a sumptuous meal of beet and chevre spring salad with either a filet mignon or a Portobello pappardelle, but the food was nowhere on Julian’s mind. All he wanted was a chance to meet the honoree, Skylar McKenzie. Earlier, he’d caught sight of a woman with white-blond hair, but she’d been seated at the front table; he’d been relegated to the back, which was good because he didn’t want to give up the element of surprise.
He’d settled in to enjoy the delicious food, the exquisite wine, and the sixty-year-old woman next to him who couldn’t seem to keep her attention—or her hands—off him. He didn’t stop her from sliding her hand on his knee under the tablecloth. Her husband was acting like a pompous ass, ignoring her and treating her like shit. Then the man caught wind of how flirtatious his wife was with Julian and gave Julian a dark frown.
Julian simply smiled. He couldn’t help it if the man’s wife was hot for him. Or that the man had likely failed to give his wife pleasure year after dry year. He was used to men like him, men who thought their spouses unworthy until a sexy fucker like him showered the women with attention. Then those men would sit up and take notice of their wives. They’d know instinctively that Julian would fuck their long-forgotten women and enjoy every moment of it, and that was enough to spark their interest once more.
The woman’s hand skimmed his thigh, and he slid his hand under the tablecloth, edging her fingers just a little higher until she encountered—
She gasped and he grinned, staring directly at her husband whose eyes had widened and whose face turned such a bright red Julian wondered if he’d stroke out right then and there. Good. The man was jealous. Maybe he’d go home and fuck his wife for the first time in years.
Likely, the woman would imagine he was Julian.
God, he loved getting into the minds of misogynistic assholes and fucking with them. So many women deserved better.
Obviously, that could be part of the appeal of the platinum blonde to him—her fiancé had been a full-on limp dick, treating her without the respect and desire she deserved. But it wasn’t just compassion or curiosity that had driven Julian on his quest. It was that moment of connection, that powerful electrical current that had charged between them both, binding them together.
Finally, an older woman in a gray evening gown took the stage and called for the audience’s attention. Shifting from foot to foot under the full attention of hundreds of people, she spoke quietly into the microphone. “On behalf of the Board of Directors for the Financial Investors Foundation, we thank you all for coming tonight. We appreciate every one of you for your continued support. Without your help, we’d be unable to continue the scholarships and mentorships for our inner-city youth. Tonight, however, we’re here to honor tonight’s recipients of the Award for Excellence for their significant charity work. First, I’d like to introduce you all to Mr. Hardy Priese, the president of Embrette Investments, who will be presenting the Award of Excellence to one of his own employees. Mr. Priese?”
Julian’s gaze followed a short, stout man who wore an ill-fitting, if not expensive, tuxedo and a sour expression as he ascended the stairs to the stage. Hardy Priese held his chin high, and his beady black eyes surveyed the crowd like a hawk on a power line. He sent an angry glare toward the woman who had introduced him when he found himself standing a good half-foot below the microphone on the stand. She scurried to adjust it for him as a few awkward coughs and throat clearings rippled through the waiting crowd.
Julian let the man’s droning words drift around him, his concentration not on the idiot at the microphone but on the back of the blonde’s head he’d spotted earlier. If, as he assumed, the blonde was his princess, then she’d rise soon and come up onto the stage, and finally, he’d get a full glimpse of her face in person. He couldn’t wait.
Finally, Hardy Priese’s droning grew slightly louder, although his tone still appeared bored and uninterested, like a child who was told he couldn’t play with the green truck and now would not play with any of the trucks at all. “The first winner of tonight’s award, Skylar McKenzie, is a valued part of Embrette Investments. She’s a rising star in the financial world and a great friend to the underserved. We are lucky to have her as an employee and to support her work with her charity of choice,Empowered in Finance.”
The woman to Julian’s left leaned into his personal space and murmured, “Miss McKenzie really is something special. She helped my maid’s daughter get into Columbia.”
Julian flashed her a quick grin but immediately returned his focus to the blonde who had stood and was making her way up toward the stage. He still couldn’t see her face, but he could see how she moved in the emerald green silk dress. Elegantly. Effortlessly. As if she were floating on air.
Still at the microphone, Mr. Priese snapped, “Hurry along now.” He made a noise one would make to a dog—a sharpcome herewhistle command.
Julian’s blood boiled. If the man could behave like that in public at an event like this, how did he treat his employees in private? But then his attention was riveted, and all the anger slipped away. Julian found himself fighting for air when he caught his first in-person view of Skylar McKenzie’s face.
He’d seen pictures of her face online, of course, and had known the bone structure matched, the color of her eyes matched, the curve and shape of her lips matched those of his princess, but until he’d seen Skylar McKenzie with his very own eyes, seen her move, seen her smile, part of him could still tell himself that he was obsessed for nothing. That surely, seeing her in person would take some of her power over him away.
He’d never been more wrong about anything in his life.
Seeing her in person was like seeing pictures of the Mona Lisa and then seeing the painting in person— there was no comparison. Skylar’s cheekbones were high and sharp, her tawny eyes sparkling in color and intensity, and she was nobody’s fool. She didn’t appreciate her boss whistling at her like she was a dog, something she made abundantly clear even as she smiled at the crowd. She was stunning, and it took every ounce of self-control in Julian’s body to not rise from his seat, shove his way past tables, thunder up the steps to the stage, and take her in his arms— her gravity was that strong.
After her boss’s actions, most people would have taken the stage with flaming cheeks, lowered eyes, and fidgeting hands. But Skylar stood there, beaming as if her boss had just announced she was the winner of the Ms. Universe competition, the newest Poet Laureate, gold medalist in the javelin throw, and recently nominated political candidate for President of the United States.
“Ms. Skylar McKenzie, ladies and gentlemen,” Priese practically grumbled. “Great sense of character, a brilliant financial mind, and nice legs, too. Oops—” He gave the crowd a nasty grin. “Sorry folks, old dog, new tricks and all. Guess us old-schoolers aren’t allowed to comment on women’s legs anymore. Maybe I should turn myself in to HR on Monday.”
A few embarrassed laughs echoed around the ballroom as Skylar stepped to the microphone. “Thank you for the lovely introduction, Hardy,” she said smoothly, adjusting the height of the mic. She leaned in like she was sharing a secret, and Julian, along with those surrounding him, held his breath. She pseudo-whispered to Priese in a way that what she said still echoed around the room. “And not to worry—Human Resources is already here tonight, so no need to self-report the harassment.”
Priese turned beet red. He walked off the stage without even looking at her.
For the next few minutes, Julian was transfixed as Skylar spoke in a clear, confident voice about how proud she was to work withEmpowered in Finance, how she was honored to work with the young women she mentored, and how she would have been nothing without the mentorship of someone who saw what she had to offer. She was glad to pay it forward and encouraged others to do the same, especially women in finance. As if her words weren’t enough to hold his attention, Julian soaked in the details of her inflection, the way she moved, and the way her dress glinted under the lights.
Finally, the award was handed to her by the older woman in the gray gown. Skylar held it high with a bright smile and thanked the audience. “As an industry, we’ve come a long way since those long-ago days of women being seen just as secretarial staff, good for only the typing pool or answering phones. The days when this business was an old boy’s club are on their way out the door, making room for bright and ambitious women who have the guts to go for glory. And the strength to command the respect we deserve. Let’s make certain the young women entering the financial world know their worth, and more importantly, let’s make certain that the men know not to harass them.”
She left the stage surrounded by stunned silence. People glanced from one to the other to determine what exactly to do. Julian stood and began clapping, slow and firm and loud, the percussive sounds echoing off the walls. Applause finally broke out in the ballroom, a smattering at first, and then one by one, the women in the room joined Julian in rising. The men followed, many reluctantly.
The band started playing, and the awkward tension disappeared as chatting resumed, drink pours continued, and the wait staff flooded back in with trays carrying sumptuous desserts. But Julian had no interest in chocolate soufflé. He was here for one reason and one reason only.