Strip Poker: Bad Boys Club Romance #2 Page 9

As the waitress walked off, Dougie sat down opposite us. “Vic, I am so honored to be here today. Let me just say that I think you are THE social media genius of our age. Really. I am humbled to be in the presence of greatness.”

  Vic was still confused. “…are you the meeting?”

  “I am. Yes. Well, really, YOU are meeting. I am just part of the meeting, but yes, we – all of us – hi, I’m Dougie – ” he said, extending his warm, moist hand to me, “ – we are meeting, yes, we are, and it is a beautiful thing.”

  Vic looked over at me like What the hell is going on?

  I shrugged. I don’t know.

  Dougie turned his considerable lack of charm on me. “Are you, uh… heh heh… one of Vic’s ladies?”

  He said ‘ladies’ like a polyester-wearing lounge lizard from the ‘70s.

  Vic snorted in amusement.

  “I’m the VP of operations for Cortelian Venture Capital,” I snapped.

  “Of COURSE you are, which is why you’re at the meeting!” Dougie said shamelessly, like he hadn’t just asked if I was Vic’s fuck buddy. “So – you guys havin’ fun in Vegas? Seein’ the shows? Playin’ the poker? Livin’ the life?”

  “Why are we here?” Vic asked brusquely.

  “Yes! Gettin’ down to business! I LIKE this guy! We are here, right now, because my company would like to leverage your social media genius.” Dougie leaned in and whispered, “Geeeenius.”

  Vic frowned. “You want to hire me as a consultant?”

  “No, no, no – we want you to advertise our products on your Instagram. Your platform. Your social media kingdom, if you will,” Dougie said. His whole shtick reminded me of a cheesy comedian or a bad magician.

  “What products?”

  “Many products, all of them lucrative, all of them in the financial services sector.”

  “Financial services?”

  “Mortgages, mostly. Car loans, too. We’d be willing to pay a substantial fee. Substantial,” Dougie said, his head cocked at an angle and eyebrows wiggling like Know whut I mean?

  Vic narrowed his eyes in irritation. “Do you even know who my audience is? They’re not interested in mortgages. They’re interested in partying and getting laid.”

  “In a mansion,” Dougie said theatrically, putting his hands out like he was presenting some dreamlike vision in the air. “Or… a Lamborghini,” he said with another flourish.

  Vic looked at Dougie like he was the stupidest human being alive. “They can’t afford mansions or Lamborghinis!”

  “Probably not,” Dougie admitted, “but we’ve designed a whole new class of subprime loans that we think would meet the needs of your ‘party hearty’ crowd. Your ‘peeps,’ if you will.”

  Vic stared at him. “Did you just say subprime loans? As in ‘2008 financial crisis’ subprime loans?”

  “No, no, no, a lot better than those!” Dougie said with a giggle. “We figure you could pitch it like this: ‘My mansion is my castle – and you can own your own castle with a LoanPrime America Adjustable Rate Mortgage!’”

  “You want me to shill subprime Adjustable Rate Mortgages?”

  “Well, ‘shill’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use – ”

  “What happens if interest rates explode? What then?!” Vic barked.

  “Their rates won’t change for five years!”

  “So?! They’re still going to be paying off your goddamn mortgage in five years, aren’t they?!”

  This was not only the worst business meeting I’d ever been to, it was far and away the most surreal. When Vic Cortelian was the moral and ethical grownup at the table, you knew you’d officially gone through the looking glass and straight into Wonderland.

  Dougie seemed completely bewildered, too – but for different reasons. “Why do you care?”

  “Why do I care?!” Vic roared. “Because not only do I NOT want to shill your stupid products, but I don’t want tell a bunch of people who trust me to buy something that’s going to ruin their lives!”

  Dougie looked at me in panic. “I, uh… I was told you wouldn’t really be concerned with the details…”

  Vic whirled on me. “You told them that?!”

  “No I did not,” I snapped. “I’ve never even talked to this guy before.”

  Dougie tried again. “Sal Cortelian told my boss – ”

  “Of course he did,” Vic snarled as he stood up. “Fuck this, I’m out.”

  Five seconds later I was running through the Wynn Hotel chasing after Vic.

  It beat hanging out with Dougie anymore.

  28

  Vic did two things on the limo ride back to Mandalay Bay: text furiously and harangue me endlessly.

  “You set me up for a meeting with a bunch of mortgage broker vultures? Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “I didn’t set up the meeting,” I protested.

  “No, you just dumped a bucket of ice water on me and threatened me with a stun gun, all so I could go hear some dumbass try to bribe me to ruin a bunch of people’s lives!”

  Part of me felt like I deserved his vitriol. Anybody who thought it was a good idea to peddle ticking time-bomb loans to Vic’s Instagram audience was so clueless (or unethical) it was breathtaking – and I just happened to work for the man who’d set up the meeting.

  But no matter how bad I felt, I wasn’t about to admit that to Vic. He would just use it against me.

  “Who are you texting?” I demanded, worried he might try to ditch me and bolt Vegas.

  “You’re not my wet nurse.”

  “No, just your babysitter.”

  “Any babysitter who sets up stupid-ass situations like the one you put me in should be fired.”

  “A, I didn’t set it up. B, if you don’t want to be in situations like that, complain to your uncles, not me. C, who the hell are you texting?”

  “A guy.”

  “About what?”

  “Are you ALWAYS this nosy?”

  “Yes. Texting him about what?” I persisted.

  “If you MUST know, whenever I’m THIS pissed off, I have to go lift – so I got a buddy who’s gonna meet me at the Mandalay Bay and work out with me. You happy now?”

  Not happy, exactly – but mollified, yes.

  Vic was still yelling at me as he stomped into the VIP weight training room at Mandalay Bay.

  There was another guy already in there. He stood a few inches taller than Vic and was about as muscular. He was clean-shaven, handsome, a real All-American Boy – and he looked vaguely familiar.

  “Vic!” the guy shouted happily as soon as we walked in.

  “Trevor!” Vic bellowed, and gave the guy a bear hug.

  “What’s up, big dog?” Trevor laughed. “Lookin’ good, lookin’ good!”

  “You too, man! What’re you workin’ on these days?”

  “Aw, just in town doing press for the newest flick.” Then he turned to me and flashed me a Joey Tribbiani smile. I could almost hear him say, How YOU doin’? “Who’s this?”

  Vic was more than happy to tell him. “My very own colossal pain in the ass.”

  Trevor looked confused. “Your what?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “He’s just bitter I made him get up early.”

  “Made me – ha,” Vic scoffed. “She threw ice water on me and – uh – ”

  Suddenly he realized it might not make him appear so manly if people knew a chick had pushed him around with a stun gun. So instead, he just went straight into the introductions.

  “Trevor, Monica. Monica, this is Trevor Michaels, THE next big action movie star.”

  That’s where I’d seen this guy: movie commercials and advertisements. Maybe even a few billboards. He wasn’t hugely famous, but I definitely recognized his face.

  Trevor shook my hand. “I don’t know about all that,” he said with an Aw shucks grin.

  “I do. Not too long from now, he’s gonna be as big as Tom Cruise was in his prime. Hey, how’s Hugh doin’?”

  “Hugh Ja
ckman?” I asked, astounded.

  “Yeah, we worked out together on the last movie I was in,” Trevor said, then turned back to Vic. “Hugh’s good, he’s good! You know what he says – ”

  “If the bar ain’t bendin’, you’re just pretendin’,” Vic finished, and they both laughed.

  Oh God. Meathead humor.

  Although I wasn’t quite as bothered as I watched Vic pick up two 60-pound barbells and effortlessly start doing curls, his biceps bulging.

  Suddenly my cell phone rang. I looked down at the screen with a knot in my stomach.

  Sal Cortelian.

  Behind me, the weights had already started clanking and the two guys had turned into Chatty Kathy’s.

  “I’ve got to take this,” I said to Vic.

  “Then take it far, far away. We’re working out here.”

  “It’s your uncle.”

  “Tell him I said to go fuck himself.”

  Mmm… no.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” I warned Vic as I walked out of the weight training room.

  “Don’t go booking any more meetings,” he yelled as the door closed behind me.

  29

  It was not a pleasant conversation with Sal Cortelian.

  The old bastard was completely unrealistic. In his view, Vic should have done the deal and been happy about it.

  “It would have meant millions for us, with no effort on our part whatsoever,” he said, although I’m sure what he meant was, It would have meant millions for me, with no effort on my part whatsoever.

  I tried to relay Vic’s very logical objections, but Sal wasn’t having any of it.

  “I have another meeting lined up for you at noon. Expect an email with the details. Get Vic there, and KEEP him there this time,” he snapped before he hung up.

  Great.

  I checked my email. At least this meeting was marginally better – a nutritional supplements company. But not one that would have appealed to Vic, like protein powder or fitness-related products. No – it was some multi-level marketing thing with vitamins for pregnant women.

  What was the sales pitch going to be on this one? ‘Once I knock ‘em up, I make sure they stay healthy’?

  I paced back and forth in the penthouse, dreading the coming confrontation.

  Vic finally walked in an hour later, muscles bulging and t-shirt damp with sweat.

  As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he looked really damn good. I could see the definition of his pecs under the cloth, and his biceps looked like they were about to split the arms of his shirt.

  “Call room service and get me a change of clothes,” he ordered as he walked past me.

  “What size are you?”

  “They already know,” he said as he walked towards the master bedroom.

  “They do?” I asked, surprised.

  “I’m a high roller and I stay here all the time without bringing any clothes with me – of course they do. And while you’re at it, get me some steak and eggs, rare and over easy. I’m starving.”

  “Fine,” I said, teeth gritted. “But as soon as you eat, we have another business meeting lined up at noon.”

  “Fuck THAT noise,” he said as he kicked off his Chuck Taylors and peeled off his socks. “I’m going out to the desert with Trevor.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “Yes I AM.”

  I didn’t answer for a second because he’d just peeled off his shirt and thrown it to the floor, and I was standing there in shock.

  Good GOD he was built.

  His shoulders were broad and powerful. His abs looked like somebody had carved them out of oak. His tan skin shone with a sheen of sweat, and droplets wound their way through the deep furrows between muscles. And his massive chest was covered in dark hair – a real manly man.

  I’d seen him this morning, yes, but I wasn’t paying attention then – I was too wrapped up in our face-off to notice much about his body.

  Plus, post-workout he just looked… damn.

  Then he peeled off his camo shorts, leaving him only in black boxers.

  He glanced back at me and saw my jaw on the floor. “Like what you see?” he asked, cocky as hell.

  I regained my composure, though it took some doing. “I’ve just never seen a shaved gorilla before,” I said in as cutting a voice as I could.

  He didn’t like that. “Well, this gorilla’s off the menu after this morning, so go chase some other monkey.”

  “The only place I’d ever chase you is to your next meeting – which is at noon.”

  He walked over to me and stopped a few inches from his face. I swear I could smell the testosterone coming off him in an invisible cloud. There was a musky scent to him, masculine and not at all unpleasant. Actually, I take that back – it was unpleasantly arousing, given what a dick he was.

  “Look, sweetheart,” he growled, “I’m going to the desert with Trevor, end of discussion. You can tag along if you want, but pull another stunt like you did this morning and you can Uber back to San Francisco. Got it?”

  I stepped back from him – not because I was physically threatened (I wasn’t) but because I was turned on, and I hated it. Being attracted to a guy you find irritating and otherwise repugnant is just the worst – and damn confusing to boot.

  Plus, I was supposed to get him to a meeting at noon… but I could see that wasn’t going to happen, no matter how much Sal might want it to. Vic was pissed. Even if I pulled out the stun gun, it wouldn’t work as leverage anymore. He’d take being shocked over kowtowing to me or his uncle again – and he’d probably end up wresting the weapon away from me anyway.

  Maybe I should try a more conciliatory approach. Help defuse the situation.

  “I wasn’t really going to tase you,” I lied.

  He smirked. “I know.”

  That irritated me.

  “No you didn’t,” I shot back. Couldn’t help myself.

  “Not really, no,” he admitted. “Kind of made it exciting, till I remembered what a giant pain in the ass you are.”

  Speaking of asses, I had a fantastic view of his, muscular and perfect under his boxers, as he turned around and headed for the shower.

  “Now get me my clothes and breakfast – steak rare, eggs over easy!” he ordered as he slammed the bathroom door.

  Bastard.

  I wondered whether I should reconsider using the stun gun.

  30

  After breakfast, we met Trevor down in front of the valet station where a giant Humvee was waiting for us.

  “Ready to party hard?” All-American Boy asked.

  “Hell yeah!” Vic said as they did a fist-pound.

  I rolled my eyes and groaned inwardly with disgust. All we needed now was a keg stand and some jello shots.

  Vic’s social media guy ran out of the lobby’s automatic doors, his camera bag bouncing on his butt. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he huffed and puffed.

  “Who’s this?” Trevor asked.

  “This is Joe, the man who’s gonna help make you even more famous,” Vic said.

  “Well, hellooo, Joe!” Trevor laughed, and slapped the guy on the back as we all piled into the Humvee – Trevor and Vic in the front, me and Joe in the back.

  “So what’s all this for?” Vic asked as Trevor fired up the engine and we rumbled onto the main drag.

  “Ah, it’s a promotional thing for that action movie I was telling you about.”

  “At least somebody helps promote his business deals with other people,” I couldn’t help but saying.

  “At least somebody has cool business deals to promote,” Vic snapped. Then he turned to Trevor. “We’ll have Joe get some video, snap some photos, and I’ll put it up on Instagram.”

  “Really?” Trevor asked, sounding immensely grateful. “Dude, that would awesome – you’re the best.”

  “No problem, man. You and me, we gotta get into business together.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “Absol
utely!” Trevor enthused.

  “You know what? I’m gonna produce your next movie,” Vic decided.

  Now I really couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  Trevor was over the moon. “Dude, that would be awesome!”

  “You have no experience producing movies,” I said to Vic.

  He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. “I won’t be on the set or hiring people. I’ll just find the money and make sure Trevor gets whatever he needs.”

  “Find the money where? Mortgage companies?” I asked snidely.

  “My uncles, if they’re smart.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  “Then I’ll get the money somewhere else,” Vic said, a dangerous tone in his voice.

  “Try pulling it out of your ass, since that’s where all your ideas seem to come from.”

  “I’m not the one trying to sell adjustable mortgages to 25-year-olds who want to drink and screw,” he snapped.

  Okay… he had me there.

  Trevor looked between me in the rearview mirror and Vic beside him in the passenger seat. “Are you guys…?”

  “Are you guys what?” I asked, probably a little testily.

  “Nothin’,” Trevor said, resolutely staring at the road ahead.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “You just… I don’t know, you bicker like an old married couple.”

  “We’d never be an old married couple,” Vic joked, “because I’d never marry her in the first place. Not even if her father was holding a shotgun.”

  “We’d never be an old married couple,” I snapped, “because I’d take the shotgun and shoot you first, and then go on the honeymoon by myself.”

  Trevor looked over at Vic like Hoo boy…

  “What’d I tell you, man?” Vic grunted. “Colossal pain in the ass.”

  31

  We finally reached our destination. I could tell because it was out in the middle of the desert, but there were a dozen jeeps and pickup trucks loaded with equipment, a fire truck, and about thirty guys milling around waiting.

  When Trevor jumped out, a guy in a baseball cap came running over. “Trev! You ready to do this?”