Chasing Perfection Vol. 2 (7 page)

At least I didn’t actually like him, I told myself. I was just attracted to him physically, and who could blame me? The man was walking, talking, breathing sex. An asshole, yes, but hot as hell. I didn’t want anything but a good lay. That’s what I needed, I decided, to set things straight. I needed to get him out of my system.

I needed to fuck him.

The memory of his lips on mine hit me and my hands clenched the steering wheel.

The sooner, the better.

DEVON

My focus was totally shot.

Ever since Krissy had kissed me, I couldn’t look at a nice ass or tits without thinking about her, and in my business, that meant I spent way too much time thinking about her.

It would be over soon, I reassured myself. It had to be. I had to stop thinking about that kiss.

As much as I hated how it was constantly on my mind, the kiss had been amazing. I could always tell from just one kiss what the sex would be like with someone. I’d had my predictions proven right time and again, and this time I knew that when it happened between me and her, it would be amazing. And then it’d be over. I’d fuck her hard, use her, and then reassign her to work under Bruce or Clark. She’d be their problem then and if they made a move, so much the better.

I just needed to get back to my usual groove, and fast. I didn’t think it’d take much to get her into bed. We only needed the right situation, and as I looked down at the pair of tickets on my desk, I knew exactly what that situation would be.

“Melissa,” I hit the intercom.

“Yes, Mr. Ricci?”

“Contact Ms. Jensen and let her know not to make any plans for Friday evening. She’ll be coming with me to the
Underside
premiere.”

“Yes, Sir.”

That should do the trick, I thought as I ran my fingers over the tickets. This would be Krissy’s first genuine movie premiere and she’d be thrilled with me for taking her to such an exclusive event. I doubted she wanted to see the new Sledgehammer action movie, but all the stars would be there and I’d make sure she met them all. Later, at the after party, after she’d spent the night rubbing elbows with the epitome of who’s who in Hollywood, I’d make my move.

It was a perfect plan.

KRISSY

When Melissa had called and told me not to make plans for Friday evening, I’d had a moment of wild hope that DeVon was taking me out. Then she’d told me that it was a movie premiere which meant all business, and I hadn’t been sure whether I was disappointed or relieved. I’d thanked her and let myself focus on the excitement of getting to attend something so big.

It had been hard to concentrate the rest of the day and my nerves had been on edge when I’d seen DeVon out of the corner of my eye as we were both walking towards the front doors. I’d slowed instinctively and he’d fallen in step beside me.

“So, about Friday,” I’d begun.

“Movie premieres are a great place to mingle and network,” he’d said with barely a glance towards me. “Make sure you look your best.”

I resisted the urge to tell him that I wasn’t stupid. I’d seen enough coverage to know that movie premieres were a big deal. People dressed up as if it were the Oscars or something. That, plus the fact that DeVon had felt the need to reiterate that I needed to look my best had meant that just any old dress wouldn’t do. I’d started to suspect that the reason Mirage paid so well was because of how much we had to spend on clothes. I’d taken out my credit card, one that was now dangerously close to being maxed out, and bought a sexy evening gown.

Now, as I stood in front of my building, watching a limo pull up to the curb, I was starting to wonder if I’d made a mistake. The dress was by some designer I’d never heard of, but I loved it anyway. The hem brushed against my toes, but the slit in the side went to well above the middle of my thigh. The neckline plunged so much that I’d actually thought I’d need to tape the material to my boobs so that things stayed where they were supposed to. The last thing I needed was a wardrobe malfunction, but, in the end, I hadn’t needed anything extra. The material was rich but the design was simple and it clung to me like a second skin. Still, I felt vastly overdressed as I slid into the backseat.

DeVon glanced at me and gave me a look that said he approved, but nothing more. We rode in silence and when we got in line to be dropped off, I started to watch the other women who were heading down the carpet. My previous thoughts of being overdressed now felt stupid. I didn’t see a single dress that wasn’t at least a several thousand dollar designer gown.

DeVon leaned over until his arm brushed against mine, sending tingles of electricity through me. “Your choice for tonight is impeccable. Much better than those over-inflated haute couture dresses that do absolutely nothing but say that money has been spent.” He gestured towards a woman who was wearing what looked like a triangular piece of aluminum foil.

It didn’t take a genius to know that it was a typical ‘sensational’ piece, created to attract attention to the dress and the designer rather than to flatter the woman wearing it.

I smiled at him but didn’t say anything because the limo was at the front of the line now and the door was opening. DeVon got out first and then offered me his hand. I took it and tried not to think about the strength in those fingers as he helped me from the vehicle...or the disappointment when he let me go.

I didn’t have much time to dwell on it as cameras started flashing, blinding me. DeVon put his hand on the small of my back as he steered me through the throng on the red carpet. Journalists and fans yelled from the sidelines and someone asked if I was DeVon’s girlfriend. I didn’t hear him respond, but that could’ve just been because I was trying not to think about how good it felt to have his hand on me and how glad I was that I’d gone with a dress with such a low cut back that half of his hand was on bare skin. A shiver went through me as he led me into the theater, with him smiling and greeting people the entire way.

“Charlie!” He clapped his free hand on the shoulder of a handsome, middle-aged man that I recognized as being last year’s Oscar nominee for Best Director. I thought he should’ve won, but then again, I usually disagreed with most of the Emmy and Oscar wins.

“DeVon, how’ve you been?” The man beamed.

“Not as good as you, I hear,” DeVon gestured to a slender, much younger man who was standing next to Charlie.

“I don’t know, DeVon, you’ve got quite the looker there, too,” Charlie said as he reached for the hand of the young man.

“Krissy Jensen, meet Charlie Irons and his husband, Nathan.”

I put out a hand and shook with both Charlie and Nathan.

“Krissy here is my new hot-shot assistant. She’s got the goods, gentleman,” DeVon said without a trace of sarcasm.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite a compliment coming from you.” He looked at me. “DeVon here helped me cast Gracie Bevins as Zara in
The King’s Fool
.”

“Really?” I looked at DeVon, impressed. “She was amazing. I couldn’t imagine anyone else playing Zara.”

“Krissy’s eye is just as good,” DeVon said. “She’s an up and comer.”

His praise was easing the knot in my stomach, and as it continued each time he introduced me to someone new, I found myself beginning to relax and even join in the conversation. I kept waiting for him to add in something about me having a bad attitude or anything that could make something negative out of all of the nice things he was saying, but it never happened. This was a side of DeVon I’d never seen before.

He was charming, and not in a “trying to get laid” kind of way. He joked and flirted, but was never too much. And he was actually very attentive to me, making sure I was never left out of the conversation or left behind. Each time we moved on, he’d put his hand back where it had been and gently steer me to whoever was the next person on his list. When I shivered again, he asked if I was cold and offered his jacket. I politely declined and hoped he thought the flush in my cheeks was from nerves rather from the fact that I couldn’t tell him that the shiver was from his touch and not the weather. The next time a waitress went by with glasses of champagne, he grabbed one for me and that helped take the last of the edge off.

As we headed for our seats, we chatted about mundane things that seemed relevant to the situation. Favorite movies and directors. Which casting choices had been brilliant and which ones we wished we’d had a shot to try. Surprisingly, we agreed on almost all of them. I was still trying to convince him that Lucas Freeman would’ve been better as the lead in
Write Home Sometime
when the lights dimmed.

It had been a while since I’d been to the theater, and even longer still since I’d been there with a man. I’d forgotten how, when the darkness settled and the movie began, it was easy to forget the people nearby. I’d also forgotten that, no matter how posh the theater, the seats were still close together and, as I leaned away from the man on my right who kept trying to look down the front of my dress, my arm pressed against DeVon’s. I felt him stiffen and the tension between us suddenly ratcheted up several notches. I moved back so that I wasn’t touching either of the men sitting next to me, but it didn’t stop whatever it was that was growing between DeVon and I. I didn’t know if he felt it, too, but I hardly paid any attention to the movie because I was trying very hard not to touch him.

Then, the movie was ending and the lights were coming back on. People were clapping so I joined in, even though I didn’t remember a single thing from the film. Not that it was my kind of movie anyway, but others seemed to have liked it.

“I need a drink,” DeVon said. For a moment, I thought he was angry, but when I looked, he was smiling at me. “Something stronger than champagne.”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“There’s a fridge in the limo,” he said. “Why don’t we head that way and we can get something on our way to the after party.”

“The what?”

DeVon grinned. “Did I forget to mention that? Oops.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The smile wasn’t lecherous or smug or any of the other things I’d come to associate with DeVon’s smiles. Instead, it was the kind of grin that showed me what he must’ve looked like when he’d been little. I liked this side of DeVon, more than I cared to admit.

“How about I make us both a vodka martini?” DeVon suggested as we got back into the limo.

I agreed and watched him mix the drink with an ease that made me wonder if he’d been a bartender at some point. I’d seen enough bartenders to know how they worked. And by ‘seen,’ I meant slept with.

It was strong and exactly what I needed. I was actually having fun and I didn’t want anything ruining tonight.

“So, where’s this after party?” I asked after I’d finished half of my drink.

“Brentwood,” DeVon answered. “Steven Morrison’s mansion.”

I knew the name. He’d directed the movie we’d seen tonight. I just hoped he didn’t ask me what I’d thought of it. Then I realized that I didn’t just know the name because of tonight’s movies. Even back in New York, I’d known the name. Morrison was notorious for his parties. There was always great food, plenty of alcohol and dozens of drop-dead gorgeous models who mingled with the guests.