RIVALS OF THE FLESH
Monica Warren & Damon Monroe
“Pretty
sure he’s looking at you.”
Monica
stole a glance over her glass of ’97 Napa Valley Chardonnay. There, devilishly
positioned in another booth – and sitting alone
– was none other than Damon Monroe, one of the most ruthless businessmen in
the city.
And
one of her top rivals, but who was keeping track?
Her
dear friend Ethan sat back in his seat with nothing but mischief in his blue
eyes. This was supposed to be a belated birthday dinner, her ex-boyfriend’s treat.
Also known as an excuse to catch up in the midst of their hectic lives. The
reason they couldn’t have a birthday dinner closer to Monica’s actual birthday
was because they had both been knee-deep in work. Now they were ass-deep in
Damon Monroe.
“Anyway,”
Monica said, “what was this about Italy for Christmas?”
Ethan
was in no hurry to resume their previous conversation. “Now why does a man like
that have so much interest in you?”
“Clearly,
he fancies me. Haven’t you heard? He’s been conspiring to get me away from my
husband ever since he heard I was pregnant. He’s a fetishist, you know. Ask his
lovely wife.”
Ethan
didn’t fall for it. “He’s coming over here, and he’s only got big amber eyes
for you.” That finely-tailored Armani suit moved gracefully when Ethan stood up
and rebuttoned an errant snap. “Think I’ll hit the men’s room while you and
Monroe have a lovely chat.”
Don’t you dare…
“Cole.”
Damon’s deep voice rumbled in their pocket of the restaurant. “So lovely to see
you.” They shook hands, Ethan the first to pull his away. “What are you up to
this summer? Losing more deals in Portland?”
They
flashed each other soul-biting smiles. Children.
Both of them. Monica sipped her chardonnay with a roll of her eyes. How
many times had she consulted Ethan on how best to approach one of his biggest
rivals in the business world? He should have let Damon end the handshake on his
own terms. He was the one who initiated it.
“Work
is great. Thanks for asking.” Ethan nodded to both and Damon and Monica. “I was
just stepping out for a few minutes. Oh, and congrats on the healthy baby.
Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure to tell you that.” With another nod, Ethan
exited stage left.
“Yes.
Thank you.” Damon turned his attention to Monica, his gaze cracking the glass
in her hand. “Monica. Or is everyone really calling you Lady Warren these
days?”
Time
for her transformation.
“You
can call me whatever pleases you, Mr. Monroe,” Monica said with a cool,
submissive smile. That role came easily to her, and God and every man in a suit
knew that Damon Monroe was a power-tripping Dom who best responded to women who
knew how to bat their eyelashes and speak smoothly. And Monica was the #1 woman
in the world when it came to both. “Although I must warn you that my husband
has his claim on Princess.”
Damon
helped himself to the chair beside the booth. “I wouldn’t want to offend your
husband.”
“To
what do I owe this lovely pleasure?”
Damon
cut right to the chase, bless his emerald-money soul. “What’s this I hear about
you starting a nightclub in the city? Your chateau isn’t enough for you?”
Monica
was the queen of poker faces. Even though Damon’s question surprised her, she
would not allow him to see her widening eyes or flaring nostrils. Nor would he
ever sense the change in her pulse or the heat flushing her cheeks.
It doesn’t help that
he’s the exact kind of Dom I naturally respond to. Not
that there had ever – or would ever – be a thing between her and Damon. But
when a man like that aggressively
approached her and demanded to hear her voice on the spot? That did things to a
woman, married or no.
She
would enjoy confessing this meeting to her husband later and receiving her
punishment.
“I
have no plans on opening a nightclub of any kind, Mr. Monroe. Whoever slipped
that into your ear was either gravely misinformed or trying to start rumors.”
She made him watch her finish her belated birthday chardonnay. When her fingers
released the stem of her glass, she continued, “What I’m planning to do is open
a lovely lounge right here in the heart of downtown.”
“A
lounge.” That businessman’s smile became more ruthless by the second. It didn’t
help that Monica counted at least five serrated edges in his amber eyes. Four for my limbs and one for my jugular. “Don’t
suppose this would be a lascivious extension of your pleasure house, would it?
I can only imagine the legal hurdles you’d have to jump through for that.”
Monica
shrugged. Her Dior dress caught those serrated edges for a second before her
face regained Damon’s attention. “It will share similar branding, yes. A few of
the women under my employ will be setting up shop in the lounge instead. But
not for sex work.”
“No?”
“No.
I’m assuming that’s what your concerns are? That I will interfere with your club’s business?”
Monica
also had no issues cutting to the chase. They were rivals because they both
catered to the oversexed crowds of the rich and famous. Damon had his sex club
that got more action on the weekends than a busy porn set, and Monica had her
brothel (which was such a crass way to put it) that kept more money in its
coffers than some net-worths in the city. Of course Damon was rattled to hear
that Monica might start up a competing business closer to home, even though he
did not formally offer sex.
Neither
would she in this venture.
“We’re
only looking at spaces right now,” Monica reassured him. “My vision is a quiet,
relaxing atmosphere where men and women can come and have a delicious drink
while a trained professional entertains them for a couple of hours. No sex. If
they want that, they can be referred to my primary place of business.” She
pushed aside her empty dinner plate. “But I’m surprised you don’t know this
information already! Surely, your wife has already told you everything. Or is
she the one spreading rumors?”
Damon
was the first to crack his demeanor. “My wife?”
“Why,
yes! I’ve been discussing this at length with Alice for the past few weeks. She
has such a generous mind that I insist on picking. I even bought her lunch the
other day so we could discuss potential rental spaces. She lamented that she
could not offer a good space in your building,
Mr. Monroe. She said that all the best spaces were already rented.”
“My
wife. You’ve been talking to my wife about this…”
“Why
wouldn’t I? Culver Hospitality Holdings is the second biggest hospitality
company to originate in this town, after Mathers & Co., of course. Alice
has access to all of the best real estate listings and can refer me to some of the
most excellent third party deals that I will surely need to get started. She
knows how important it is to support her fellow association members.” She referred
to the Married Women’s Association, which Alice was a full-fledged member of
since her City Hall wedding to this man sitting before Monica. “Which is why
Henry and I are so obliged to continue to be VIP members of your wonderful
club, even though we don’t have as much time to go to many of you parties. I’m
sure you understand, Mr. Monroe. Marriage and children fill up a busy
schedule.”
“Indeed
they do. My wife failed to mention these details, however.”
“Well,
she is a busy woman.” And Monica was
busy giving Alice Monroe pointers as well. Both new mother pointers and husband pleasing pointers. Alice may
be married to Damon, but it was Monica who knew best how to appeal to his
fantasies.
Something,
she noted, he had never taken her up on at her Chateau. Not when he was single,
anyway.
“Sounds
like a lovely venture, and I wish you the best of luck.” Damon extended his
hand to shake hers. But unlike Ethan, who now hovered around the edge of the
room, Monica was not one to offer hearty shakes. She entwined her fingers with
Damon’s, sure to keep her hand on top of his. She kept the firm handshakes for actual business talk. “Just keep in mind
that I don’t like to play games, Mrs. Warren.”
She
slowly pulled her hand away. “Of course you don’t. You’re ruthless and
demanding. The moment I opened a place like The Dark Hour in the same state,
your lawyers – no, you – would come
sweeping down to squish me like a stink beetle. Well, I don’t have to tell you
what happens when you come around a stink beetle, Mr. Monroe.”
Damon
stood. “Something tells me that I should stay on my toes, because you might
like that. Me coming down on you, that is.”
“I
save that for my personal life, not my business life, Mr. Monroe.”
“I’m
sure.”
He
bumped into Ethan again on his way out. The two men shared one last nod before
Ethan returned to the table.
“What
was that about?”
Monica
was about to ask for another glass of chardonnay. “Sex, of course.”
“I
thought it was about business.”
She
snorted. “Same difference, Ethan. When it comes to us, we don’t know how to
separate the two. And that causes professional problems.”
“What
about personal ones?”
Monica
didn’t respond to that. She was already fantasizing about relaying this
conversation to her husband. Henry would love
it.
“Your
guys’ kids are going to end up married one day, and you’ll never be able to get
away from each other at the family reunions. Mark my words.”
“Please.
We both have daughters, and I’m done.”
“Everyone
knows he wants to have like ten kids, so you never know. Besides,” Ethan
scooted closer to her, “it’s a new millennium. I hear women can marry each
other now.”
“Don’t
you dare put that out there!” Not the women marrying each other part, but the
being related to Damon Monroe part!
Then
again, they were two of the richest families in New England, let alone the
state…
And
the Monroes were keen on arranged marriages…
Fuck it. First
things were first. Monica wanted another drink and to conquer the nighttime
entertainment world. Her baby’s future love life could wait another forty
years.
SEE THEIR STORIES HERE
Loved it!
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