Completion by Fantome Stylo

Author:Fantome, Stylo [Fantome, Stylo]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Battleaxe Productions
Published: 2015-02-11T05:00:00+00:00

*

Tate sighed and leaned back against a wall. Jameson was smiling and mingling around the party. No one seemed to notice the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. When he had punched the photographer, he had clipped the camera. Sliced right through his skin.

Of course he hadn't gone to jail. Bribes went pretty far in Hong Kong, and by the end of the whole ordeal, the paparazzi were the ones being carted off in a police car. Jameson sent a bell hop to tell Ang and Isadora that they would need to find their own way back to the hotel, then he carted Tate outside. Sanders appeared not long after, snapping his fingers at the valet.

“Why would he say that?” Tate had asked, leaning over Jameson's hand, trying to judge whether or not he would need stitches.

“Because people are assholes. Maybe he'll think twice before asking questions like that again.”

“You shouldn't have hit him.”

“I should've hit him harder.”

“What was all that stuff they were saying, about my dad?”

“Stuff you don't need to worry about.”

“Jameson -,”

“Don't push me on this, Tate. I'm not in the fucking mood.”

Tate hadn't pushed him on the matter, but she didn't want to let it go, either. But after they got back to the hotel, she didn't have time to grill him. He immediately hopped in the shower to get ready for his party. So Tate followed suit and picked out an outfit. Took a shower as well. Made herself look as good as possible.

What a fucking waste.

Just like she'd predicted, she didn't know anybody, and just like she'd predicted, she had to watch Isadora pour herself all over Jameson. Tate wasn't jealous, per se, she just didn't appreciate the blatant disrespect. Ang showed up and blew a raspberry on her neck, promising to distract the Brazilian goddess for her. But before he could make it across the room, he got distracted by a different pretty girl.

Men. What a bunch of fuckers.

“Are you alright?”

Tate smiled as Sanders moved to stand next to her.

Okay, not all men.

“I'm fine. Just bored. How are you? Feels like we haven't gotten to spend any time together,” Tate said, pouting her lip out. Sanders cleared his throat.

“There'll be time later, I'm sure,” he replied, adjusting his tie.

Hmmm, awfully early to be twitching. He's nervous.

“Sandy,” Tate started. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because of this party. Dinner last night. Ang. Isadora.”

“The party is because of the resort property he is investing in, Mr. Hollingsworth is for you, dinner was a matter of right-time-right-place, and Ms. Silva just happened to be an investor in the same resort,” Sanders prattled off quickly. Tate turned to fully face him.

“One thing I've learned about you – when I really want to know the meaning behind an action, you feed me all the obvious points. But I know you know what I'm really asking,” she called him out. He swallowed thickly, didn't quite meet her eyes.

“Then the question is why do you keep asking me, if you know I'll always respond that way?” he countered.

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