Sammy's hard edge softened the moment she closed the VVIP door behind her. In the dim light of the suite she looked every inch the temptress she cultivated for cameras and patrons alike. Tonight she wore smoky-red lingerie that clung to her like a promise; she lounged on the king-size bed as if the world were a stage and she the center of attention.
A phone was tucked to her ear. With the other hand she toyed with a silk sheet, humming softly, her voice low and deliberately indulgent. She didn't need to pretend, this was familiar territory. This room belonged to the chairman, a man whose favors opened doors most actresses only dreamed of. Sammy worked him like a master key.
The so-called chairman happened to be Brian's father, whom Sammy had been using to keep her role by Brian's side stable, until Emma ruined it for her.
However, Sammy Johnson isn't a quitter. Two plans had failed but she had more to explore.
"Stop keeping me waiting," she teased into the line, a smile in her voice. "Or I'll ruin the bed for you." She said in a sultry tone as she put the call to video, positioning it to capture how her own finger drew a circle on her private part.
A low chuckle answered her taunting. "Naughty girl. Papa is at the door. Get yourself together and open up."
Sammy rolled off the bed like an eager child and swept the door open. The chairman filled the entrance: broad shoulders, a powerful frame that still carried the habit of a lifetime's discipline. Age had softened some lines at the face, but the man's presence was magnetic, he still moved like someone in command.
"You forgot your key?" Sammy asked without ceremony, taking him in as she unbuttoned his shirt with practiced flirtation.
He smiled, closing the gap between them. "Your little threat distracted me," he said, stepping inside. His hands found her shoulders, not roughly but with the easy possession of a man used to having his will met. Sammy reveled in it, the attention, the control, the way he indulged her, the way his frame towered over her like a mountain.
The expectations. The praise to be expected and how rough he could be, matching her every fantasy. He filled her desires, career and bank account.
Gregory is the perfect sugar daddy, which somehow makes her want to possess his son as well.
Their exchange was as much ritual as desire. He kissed her, complimented her, and she responded with the expert ministrations of someone who knew how to keep powerful men invested. She was entertaining, amusing, persuasive, everything she needed to be.
They enjoyed rounds of wild intercourse that left both their minds reeling.
When the moment softened and their breathing relaxed, she pressed him for business. "Tell me, handsome. How did it go with my request?" she said, voice slipping from honey to steel in one breath. "Did he change his mind?"
Gregory sighed and shifted, irritation clouding his features. "I spoke with my son," he said slowly. "He's stubborn. He says the decision stands. Let this one go, there will be another opportunity. I won't let him give the lead to someone else without reason."
Sammy's smile thinned. The charm she wielded so effortlessly tightened into something colder. This man had been her most reliable, fallback. If Brian wouldn't relent, she needed a new plan. For a moment she let the vulnerability show: a flash of annoyance, of miscalculation.
Then she recovered. She had always been good at turning setbacks into leverage. "Fine," she murmured, rising from the bed and smoothing the fabric of her dress. "Find me the next one. Make it worth my time."
He nodded, still besotted enough to try. Sammy watched him button his shirt with the same cool appraisal she reserved for props and co-stars. Sex, favors, influence, this was how the industry moved, and Sammy knew how to place herself at the center of that motion. The best part of it all is that Sammy enjoyed the feeling of being with a man. She's an addict.
As he left to return to his work, Sammy let the mask slip back on. The fury that had driven her out of the studio simmered into a single, sharp thought: she would not be upstaged. Not by anybody. Not by fate. Her next move would be surgical.