Blurred Lines 1: CHASE novel Chapter 4

I pulled out the client files from my bag. Reading page after page, I saw nothing unusual. Chase Montiero, the thirty-two-year-old CEO of Montiero Holdings. The job required me to change his playboy image in six months.

He had no social media account, but the internet provided endless pictures of a man with different girls wrapped around his body. Stolen shots and blurry in a club or party, or he’d look the other way from the camera. He was tall and had a body fitting a GQ model. His hair was dark. I couldn’t tell if it was brown or black, but that familiarity caught me when I zoomed in on one of his images.

His eyes were so familiar as if I had seen him before.

“We’re here,” the driver announced, pulling me from stalking my client online.

I glanced to the side, a thirty-story building, curved glass, and steel with MONTIERO HOLDINGS written discreetly over the glass front door.

“Thank you…” I trailed off.

“It’s Rafael,” he said, sliding out of the car. He opened the door for me, tossing the keys to the man in a black and white suit who approached us.

“Come on.” Rafael led me inside the building.

Behind the sandstone desk, a woman in a blue suit jacket greeted Rafael. He nodded at her and pressed a hand on my lower back, guiding me inside the elevator. I’m beginning to wonder if Rafael was more than a driver.

The elevator ride ended on the twenty-eight floor. Rafael once again led me through the hallway. We stopped in front of a wooden double door with my client’s name written on frosted glass. He knocked and received no response.

“He’s probably on the rooftop,” Rafael sighed and glanced at his wristwatch. “You can wait inside. I’ll just get him.”

I stood there and watched Rafael disappear through the door on the other end of the hallway, leaving me no choice but to do as he said.

I opened the door and instantly regretted it when I saw a man and a woman by the glass window in a rather scandalous position.

~~

The pair by the window doesn’t realize they have an audience. They kept doing what they were doing. The woman was on her knees, her back against the window. She was at an angle where I could see her side profile. Her white top parted in the middle reveals her supple, bouncing breasts.

The man facing her had one hand splayed flat on the glass wall, his other gripping the woman’s hair. His pants pooled around his feet, revealing a sexy ass. He kept pounding on her face, his hips moving in a pendulum motion. Her gagging and his groan drift through the still air.

“Look at me,” the man said, his voice a cross between pain and pleasure.

The woman obeyed, looking up at him with watery eyes. “Fuck, fuck!” he groaned. His hips moved faster as though he was chasing a quick fading light.

I stood frozen as the man pulled back, gripping his manhood and splaying ropes and ropes of his release to the woman’s face.

“Why are you still out here?” I quickly closed the door when I heard Rafael’s voice.

He glanced at the door and back into my face, tipping his head to the side. A knowing smile slowly stretched his lips.

“What?” I stared down at my shoes, my cheeks warming up.

Rafael chuckled. “You saw for yourself, didn’t you?”

If embarrassment could trigger a human body’s continuous combustion, I would have turned to ash by now. I chewed my lip, unable to respond.