Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“This is the Gold Room,” he announced as a discreet door opened and someone ushered them inside, closing it quickly behind them. There were a few other couples inside, and the lights were low. It smelled amazing, like fresh air, linens and that all too familiar scent of five-star hotels. Bottles of liquor glowed. Wizkid’s, ‘Piece of My Heart,’ featuring Brent Faiyaz, played in crisp tones. She swayed to the music as they approached a couple of gold chairs.
“They have a bunch of different brandies in here. Calvados, Cognacs, Piscos, you name it. Are you ready for a private tasting? I know I am.” He rubbed his hands together like a fly. After scooting her chair away from the bar, he helped her into her seat. He sat right beside her, then flexed his long ringed fingers and ran them along her ear as he mouthed the words, “Time for a taste of the good stuff… my mouth is watering.” Her heart nearly stopped as his eyes seemed to search her soul. She caught his innuendo loud and clear. “Are you excited?”
“Yes.” Honestly, she’d barely heard his question.
They got comfortable, and soon a well-dressed bartender approached them and explained the various beverages available for the evening.
“This right here is a blackcurrant flavored Italian brandy…”
“Mmm. This is delicious.” She took a dainty sip, though really, she wanted to guzzle it down. She was sitting next to an intriguing broad-shouldered, towering man. This was one of her brother’s best friends… a man she’d heard about for years but had never seen until fairly recently. She’d heard the crazy stories, even eavesdropping on their phone conversations plenty of times when she still lived at home, but nothing could have prepared her for him. Nothing at all.
Roman was talking to the bartender about some sort of liquor they used to have a year or so ago apparently, but she was barely paying attention. She found herself rolling her hips from side to side, trying to re-situate herself due to a bit of unforeseen precipitation inside her panties. Why didn’t I wear a pantyliner? The better question is, why am I turned on and this man ain’t even put the moves on me yet? Hell, it’s just his ways… his voice… his swag.
Sitting straight, she now paid full attention as the bartender explained some other choices for them to sample. Three hours later, all buzzed, she was laughing so loud she became self-conscious. She placed her hand over her mouth.
“Am I loud? I feel like I’m talking too loud.” She looked around, but no one seemed to pay them any mind. “I get silly when I drink sometimes.”
“You are loud as hell. You sound like a tea kettle whistlin’ while tied to a leaf blower, and both of them are turned on full blast, being played through a megaphone.”
“You are full of shit!” They both burst out laughing, playfully swiping at one another, their giggles booming. When the laughter died down and the bartender stepped away, she caught Roman staring at her.
“What?”
He slowly set his drink down and swiveled on his barstool to face her. Hooking his fingers under her chin, he leaned forward and pressed his soft, full lips against hers. Then, circling his hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her close. The warm spiciness of his breath had a sweet, smooth finish. He pulled away for a brief moment, looked into her eyes, then kissed her again, urging her lips apart with the tip of his tongue. He was so right. Braggart be damned. This man was an excellent kisser, indeed.
He gently broke the kiss to finish his brandy. She rested her hand on his thigh as they talked about Tony, and his desire to open another coffee shop in another part of Houston. That conversation morphed into her reaching for her purse, taking out her phone, and showing him her jewelry creations. His compliments of her work seemed sincere when he noted how he loved the colors and attention to detail. Roman tossed ideas her way for her website, and he even indulged her questions regarding stocks and investments.
“Yes, that makes perfect sense. So, I hate that I might sound stupid, but I—”
“No, no…” Roman waved her off. “It’s good to ask these questions because most people don’t understand things like this. Financial literacy has just recently been introduced to high schools, and I’ll be the first to admit that some of this is in fact not easily explained. So basically, regarding your earlier question, let’s say you have a store—a jewelry store, right?”
“Right.”
“It’s called, ‘Genesis’ Oasis of Jewels.’”
“Ohh, I like that!” She laughed.
“And at first you are sending out like five, maybe ten orders a month. Somethin’ you can easily manage and keep up with. Then one day, someone sees your creations, blasts you on social media about how amazing your merchandise is, and your exposure and sales explode. Now you’re regularly getting five hundred orders a day. You can’t cover that. You don’t have the materials, and you’re only one person. You don’t have the money to hire anyone, and you can’t afford to buy thousands of dollars of inventory. To get those orders created and out the door, you need more money comin’ in, right?”