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Step-dad Billionaire
She tried again. Did she want a new boyfriend? Well… not really. She was vulnerable and bitter, a bad combination. No, she needed time to get over what Jake had done to her before she could move on with anyone else.
A one-night stand, however…
Amiee gave it some consideration. She’d done it before, and in its own way, it had proven cathartic. Maybe she needed to flush Jake from her system with someone unattached and deliciously anonymous. Not some drunken sleazeball, but if there were someone else…
She looked around the room, scanning for the right man to fill the need already building inside her. It wasn’t long before her eyes fell on one of the waiters. If anyone here tonight was anonymous, it was certainly him. Her lips curled into a small smile as she studied his form beneath his newly pressed tuxedo, noting how broad his shoulders were, how his biceps bulged under the fabric. He wasn’t one of the crowd, and he certainly wouldn’t know who she really was…
Maybe that drunken louse had been right. Maybe getting fucked was exactly what she should be doing right now.
“To hell with it,” she muttered as some kind of warped toast to her own depravity. She downed the rest of her martini and set the empty glass on a nearby tray, tousling her long blonde hair for the waiter’s benefit. She wanted that “just been rolling around in bed” look, a preview of coming attractions, she hoped. Even if she hadn’t been with anyone besides Jake in three years, she still knew how to snag a man—she hoped.
She strutted across the room toward the attractive waiter and the almost comically large tray he was carrying around, with large glasses delicately arranged atop it. This kind of work definitely wasn’t befitting a man of his looks. The closer she got, the more she realized this man should be a model, not a food service worker.
Or maybe that was just the Martini talking…
If she knew her stepfather, he’d spared no expense. That waiter was probably one of the best in the business, hired by some exclusive and ultra expensive catering company that only handled high net-worth events. Undoubtedly, he was being paid well to stand around and look sexy for the wives of the billionaires in attendance.
She flashed the waiter a sultry smile. He was doing what he could to stay focused on his task, even as she approached. One of the older women grabbed a glass from his tray and gave him a light smack on the ass, laughing.
Billionaires… They always felt like they were above society’s rules. They could do what they want, abuse who they want. After all, at the end of the day, they could afford it. Here was a man being paid to preen about the room serving drinks to horny trophy wives, and he did it without complaint because of the big fat check they would deposit in his bank account. She found it insufferable, the ease with which people sold themselves into this kind of wage slavery, but then again, she hadn’t been born into money. This was all relatively new to her, and she was probably more sensitive than most…
It was all for show, of course. This whole thing, every drink, every piece of food, and every person in attendance, they were all there to make her stepfather look just that much better. It was almost sad.
Everyone else seemed to love the lengths her stepfather went to in order to secure himself a position as one of the most enviable men in the city. His parties were always packed with guests, most of them people he didn’t even really know. That didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that they all saw what he had, and that they left wanting it. If he’d accomplished that, then the evening had been a success. She took a quick glance around, making sure her stepfather was nowhere to be seen as she closed the final distance between herself and the sexy waiter.
Her stepfather’s relentless pursuit for envy didn’t matter. Tonight, she needed to direct all her attention to this hot waiter and his utterly sexy body. As much as she craved anonymity tonight, she’d already decided to give him her number after they’d sealed the deal. Maybe this didn’t have to be a one-night fling…
“Hello miss, can I interest you in a drink?” he asked, smiling politely.
She smiled, doing her best to smolder as she reached out and grabbed a glass, one hand carelessly brushing up against his thigh, sweeping up toward his crotch. He jerked upright as though he hadn’t been expecting her to, shifting and clearing his throat.
“I think you could interest me in more than a drink,” she whispered, pulling in closer, her hand bumping up against something that was large and rapidly getting larger down one leg of his slacks.
She knew she was laying it on thick, but this was a fling at a work party, and she didn’t have time to cultivate his interest. She needed him to want one thing from her and one thing only: her body.