Page 2 of Missed Communication
Okay, maybe I am.
Tonight is my only night solo, since our social media manager, Tracy, will be rooming with me for the rest of the summit starting tomorrow. Even if it doesn’t work out with the sinfully handsome bartender, worst case, I packed my trusty vibrator for the trip. At some point I’ll just tell Tracy to leave me alone for an hour while I fuck myself, pretending it’s Jamie’s face between my legs. He’s too pretty to not use as masturbation inspiration.
As he makes his way back over, the woman to my right sits up taller, but he doesn’t so much as glance over at her as he prepares my drink. While he shoots the soda into the ice-filled glass, his eyes meet mine for a moment, and I swear there’s a glint of mischief in them.
“Are you ready for the summit?” he asks coyly.
An idea strikes me—I can pretend to be a tourist, give a fake name, and he won’t be the wiser until the morning. I can probably blend in with the rest of the attendees and avoid him for the better part of the conference. A night with only a few strings attached could be fun.
“Oh, I’m not here for the summit,” I finally reply as he slides the drink to me.
“You’re not Aubrey Raine?”
My heart skips a beat and I suck in a breath. So much for my plan to stay anonymous…
“You work for Olivia Harris, right?”
“How did you?—”
“I do my research,” he answers before I can finish my question.
Since the cat is out of the bag, I may as well admit I know who his boss is as well and find out what his deal is. Why on earth is he on that side of the bar tonight? Does Isaac not pay a living wage? Also, I don’t recall ever talking to a Jamie on Isaac’s staff. Maybe he’s new?
“And you work for the Prime Minister,” I retort, sipping my drink.
He begins loading a small dishwasher and explains, “I know what you’re thinking.”
“No, you don’t. Or I guess maybe you do. Why are you working here if you also work for Isaac?”
He lightly bites his lip to stifle a soft laugh that escapes anyway. “If you must know, I’m saving up to travel more and to eventually move to California. And, no, Isaac doesn’t know I work here.”
“California? Whereabouts?”Please do not say Sacramento.
“Probably the Bay Area.”
“Then you definitely need the second job. It’s quite expensive out there.” I take a sip of my drink, and the bite of the ginger mixed with cherry is tastier than I thought it would be. “So, how are you going to hide your moonlighting gig from one of the most powerful men in the world?”
“It’s not that I’m hiding it, I’m just not advertising it. But I suggested this location for the summit during a planning meeting, since I can vouch for the staff and amenities. I only have two more shifts this week, so there’s a good chance he won’t notice if I’m not attending a few of the evening dinners planned.”
“Are you an intern or…?”
“No,” he chuckles, bracing himself on the counter. “I’m the communications manager, specifically social media.”
“Fuck, that was incredibly rude of me.” It finally clicks—Jamie is James Wilson… and I just implied he’s a fucking intern. Though our conversations have been brief, I’ve spoken to him on the phone a few times, and he’s been working with Tracy on social media marketing for the summit. “I’m sorry. I’m such an asshole.”
“Not at all.” Thankfully, he doesn’t appear offended; his perpetual smile hasn’t faltered. “It’s okay. It’ll be our little secret.”
Pushing off the bar, he makes his way to the end to check on the couple, still ignoring the hot woman to my right. He glances back at me, and I quickly look away, hating how I was caught staring. I’m never this flustered talking to a man, or anyone for that matter. As Chief of Staff to one of the most influential women in America, I speak to world leaders daily without an ounce ofnervousness. So why the hell can’t I hold a normal conversation with this man? And why is my heart racing?
Probably because I’m horny as hell and my pussy is practically fluttering from just looking at him.
Jamie isn’t my usual type. I normally date men older than me with a stacked portfolio and who rely on an assistant to ensure I get flowers for my birthday. He’s so much younger than me, it should be a red flag, and I should be one for him.
When I was his age, I did what any New York socialite did—married a rich man with a flexible prenup. I was able to walk away with half of everything he owned, simply because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. But being a millionaire is only fun and games until you realize that while money makes the world go round, it can’t buy love or a family. Well, it technically can, except those means are either frowned upon or downright illegal. Hard pass. So, I gave up waiting for Prince Charming to settle down and have a family, and decided to become a mother on my own. Now here I am, in my mid-thirties, divorced, and pumped full of so many hormones for my IVF treatment that if I don’t have a fat cock inside me soon, I’m confident I’ll end up mauling Jamie or some other unassuming conference attendee.
While Jamie seems to be flirting with me, I’m not going to risk pushing for anything. He could just be a friendly guy; part of his job description. If it ever got back to Isaac or Olivia that I came onto someone on his staff, I would not only lose my dignity, but there’s a chance I could lose my job. As fun as the idea initially was to have a fling with a hot Canadian I’ll never see after this week, perhaps there are better options to satiate my libido.
To be fair, neither Isaac or Livy should judge me. We all went to college together, and these past few months have been filledwith me putting out fires while Isaac tries to not-so-subtly woo my best friend. I can’t say I blame her for encouraging it; he’s incredibly attractive with his slutty little glasses. They can deny it all they want that nothing has happened, but I’m ninety-percent sure they’re at least having phone sex. Livy has been way too chipper around the office since we returned from D.C. for President Taylor’s inauguration a few months ago. Sadly, even though I’m rooting for it, I don’t see a happily ever after in their future any time soon. He’s the Prime Minister, and Livy is the Governor of California. How the hell would that ever work? News flash: it doesn’t.
