All That He Desires (The Billionaire's Seduction Part 2) by Olivia Thorne Page A

spoke.
    “Hey, Johnny, take us up to the Strip, would you?”
    The limo purred into action, gliding like oil on ice as it merged into traffic.
    The Strip?!
    “We’re going to a strip club?” I asked, my eyes wide. I hadn’t signed on for that.
    Connor grinned. “We can if you want, but I was thinking of the Sunset Strip. West Hollywood? Clubs, bars, fine dining?”
    “Oh.”
    I felt both relieved and incredibly embarrassed at the same time.
    “Would you like a drink?” he asked.
    “S-sure,” I stammered, totally thrown off my game – not only by the strip club thing, but by the environment. The only time I’d ever ridden in a limo was for prom, and that was a 20-year-old town car that smelled slightly fusty from all the spilled beer of a thousand bachelor parties.
    This? This was pure luxury, from the black leather to the widescreen television set into the wall that divided the cabin from the driver’s area. In fact, I couldn’t even see the driver. There was a plate of black glass that separated our little world from his.
    “Champagne okay? Or would you like something stronger?”
    “Champagne would be great.”
    He leaned over to the wall across from us and slid a small compartment to the side. There was a cold storage unit in there, from which he drew out a bottle of champagne.
    Dom Perignon.
    I think I’d gotten drunk on Dom Perignon once.
    Oh, no, wait… that was Thunderbird in the twelfth grade.
    Holy crap, I’m in a Bentley, about to drink Dom Perignon.
    To say I was intimidated was an understatement.
    Connor pressed another button, and a center portion in the wall across from us opened up to reveal a whole collection of glassware – champagne flutes, wine glasses, all those different fancy cocktail glasses you see in bridal gift sections.
    He poured two flutes of champagne and handed me one. I knew nothing about crystal, but I could tell that the glass was expensive just by handling it – surprisingly heavy for its size, but delicate to the touch and incredibly thin.
    He clinked his glass against mine. “To an excellent evening so far… and an even better night ahead.”
    I widened my eyes and smiled like, Oh boy… WHAT have I gotten myself into?
    I took a sip.
    Damn, that was good.
    I’m not a connoisseur by any means, but it was a lot better than any other champagne I’d ever tasted before.
    Of course, maybe it was entirely psychological. I’m sure anything drunk in a fancy glass in the back of a Bentley tastes better than average. Champagne… tap water… Kool-Aid…
    “I have to make a phone call,” he said, and tapped the door console again.
    I just nodded. I was too shell-shocked for anything beyond simple movements and even simpler sentences.
    You Tarzan, me Jane.
    Actually, it was more like You Mr. Bentley, me Jungle Jane.
    There was the sound of a dial tone from hidden speakers. Before the second tone began, a very male, very gay voice pierced the air.
    A very male, very gay, very ticked-off voice.
    “Connnnnnnnorrrrr, this had better not be the kind of phone call I THINK it is.”
    “Sorry to disappoint you, Sebastian,” Connor grinned, “but that’s why you make the big bucks.”
    “Dammit, Connor, why don’t you just skip buck-naked through life with an American Express Black Card taped to your forehead? It’d be easier on me, and it sure as hell wouldn’t crimp your style of torching every single meeting I set up for you.”
    Mr. Connor Brooks, skipping naked down the street… huh. That was an interesting visual.
    I giggled.
    “What? Who was that?” the gay voice snapped. “CONNOR, do NOT tell me you are blowing off the New York meeting to cavort with some random FLOOZY.”
    ‘Floozy’?
    I sat up ramrod straight, miffed as hell. “ Excuse me?”
    “That’s RIGHT, Ms. Thing, I’m talking to you.”
    “Sebastian,” Connor barked.
    The speakers went silent.
    “Sorry,” Sebastian finally said in a chastened tone.
    “The lady you just insulted is Lily