<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ca/53/6a/ca536a31ffde1f26c7ff4b239c81811f.jpg)</div>You were motioning for the barkeep and my first instinct was that you had been calling security. Was my heart beating faster because of the fear you might toss me out, the anger that you would be so ruthless, or watching the way the party lights found every plane and carved muscle on your torso? The question was never answered though, as it became obvious you were just calling for drinks.<br/><br/>Your staff is fast – almost quicker than I am to recover – and the glass full of delicious amber liquid is in my hand, even though I’m sure my cheeks are already flushed enough. If not, they get more so as your words sting, calling out my flaws immediately. I haven’t sat yet, and instead of taking the cue to grace the seat across from you when you lounge, I slowly pace to the other end of the seating area.<br/><br/>Moving like I was still thinking about even joining you, I raised the glass to my lips while the view you had was still mostly of my backside. Sipping gently, like an aged whiskey should be, I let my eyes flutter closed as it burns deliciously down my throat. It is not often I get to enjoy something so decadent, and I intend to savor the experience. Along with the word fight between us.<br/><br/>“You’re stupidly wealthy?” I spun back around with those words, my eyes instantly finding yours. I wrinkle my nose a bit and shake my head, hair swinging slightly along my back as I casually made my way back to the seat that matched yours. My eyes drag over the party around us, and my words are bored-sounding. “I hadn’t really noticed…”<br/><br/>Others are watching, or pretending not to. Some are still involved with themselves. Some have drifted off. A gaggle of blondes at the bar is shooting me dirty looks. I raise my glass slightly to them and throw a playful wink before setting my ass down in the seat they all wish was theirs in that moment, and find your gaze once more. My body language mimics yours. Leaned back, relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, letting my dress ride high on my thigh. “And special?? No. Anyone that rude and thoughtless would get the same treatment from me, Mr. Fontana.”<div class="floatleft">(https://78.media.tumblr.com/49539c736189c149d224e284fcef38bd/tumblr_orv58wSPwU1vrerdqo1_500.gif)</div><br/><br/>I let your name be the last thing to leave my lips before taking another sip of the drink. Even with the flush the whiskey puts on my cheeks, though, my gaze never leaves yours. There was an art to dealing with those who had money, wealth, and an incredibly over-inflated sense of self-worth. It was a cross between playing chess and hostage negotiation.<br/><br/>Rarely, if ever, had I had as much fun doing it as I was right now.<br/>