Miles Dekker had another agenda tonight as his Rolls-Royce pulled to a stop in front of his luxury night club, Menzgold. One of the plush nighterys in Manhattan.

The paparazzi were at it again. The cameras went on and off on him the second his pristine Italian shoes met the lesser ground.

They were probably after another celebrity who had found their way into his night club. The media fuss did not help his agenda tonight but they were good for business so by all means, they should go ahead.

Growing up a Dekker means having the backbone to put on a good show and that was exactly what he did. Miles flashed his fans the signature smile, his panty-dropping antidote when it comes to winning over the masses.

Especially the ladies. And it was working tonight as well when the girls began to flash him a piece of skin.

Miles saw her before she even cut through the crowd and made her way over to him— with that measured on-camera confidence he hated so much. Well not so bad when paired with those red lipstick and Louboutin heels.

She said nothing as she stood by him and worked those model poses for a few shots with him. Just what he needed. To be seen making headways with no other woman than Chanel Preston.

Once they had had their fill of the flashlights, Miles led her into the nightclub through the VIP entrance.

“Business or pleasure?” Miles asked as they made their way upstairs to the executive lodge.

Paparazzi and Chanel in the same space meant some poor bastard was about to get crucified in the media.

“It's a Friday, Dekker, I'm not a caveman.”

Ever the feminist. Miles scoffed at her response.

But he had to ask. The former model turned Channel 3 journalist was a force to be reckoned with. Chanel doesn't know friend or foe when it comes to her job. She will publish the shit out of your life to fill her trophies of shame cabinet as Miles calls her award stand.

Besides, another media scandal was the last thing the Dekkers needed.

“What are you drinking?” Miles asked as they brushed past bodies of partygoers at the loft.

“Whatever you're buying.”

Miles stopped mid-strid and turned to her. Don't do it. The words were like the old bells of Valencia going off in his head but it's been a dreadful couple of days since he got back from Spain. He could use the distraction— a very hot wild distraction.

Miles switched on his award-winning grin. “What do you say to a glass of wine in my suite?” He offered her one strong arm adorned in Armani.

“How could I ever say no to that smile.” Her grin was even wider than his as she clung onto his arm.

Lucky him. Miles led her into his private elevator. His security guard was with them but Miles relieved him of his services for the night.

“Mr Brown called, Sir. He said it was urgent.” The guard informed Miles before he could step into the elevator.

“Thanks Sam. I will call him back.” Miles stepped closer and said to Sam's hearing alone, “I'm retiring for the night. I'm unavailable if anyone asks.” Anyone being their code for a string of his lady friends who can't take no for an answer.

“Yes, Sir,” Was Samuel's response.

“Goodnight Sam.” Miles hurried after his lady friend into the elevator.

“How was your trip?” He asked, a few seconds after the elevator doors closed behind them.

She chuckled. “Do you really want to talk about my trip?” She stepped into his space.

“No?” He gave her the signature smile, his lush pink lips thinning out in amusement.

“Good…” She went right for his belt. “Cause I didn't come here to talk.” Her lips met his in a hot wet kiss.

Fuck. Miles flipped her in one swift move that he had her backed into the elevator walls in a blink of an eye. She reached for him just as his phone rang.

Damnit. Miles cussed his luck.

“Ignore it. ” Chanel moaned amidst a chuckle as Miles kissed his way down her neck.

They both groaned in annoyance when his phone rang again. His lawyer would kill him for ignoring his calls but he would gladly die rather than deprive himself of a night with Chanel Preston.

The elevator stopped at his floor before they could go any further with their stripping. They stumbled out, still clutching onto each other as they made their way into his penthouse. Miles couldn't even remember when he swiped his card but they were in his suite before he could catch a breath from that kiss.

His tie was already gone together with his coat, leaving him in his white sleeves and pants by the time they made it to the main loft. Which wasn't fair. So like the expert he was, he undid her zipper with one swift move, and downhill the Versace dress went. After the last time, he was extra gentle with the damn dress when he kicked it out of his way.

“Wine?” She nodded. “Make yourself comfortable while I grab a bottle,” Miles whispered against her lips.

“Don't keep me waiting.” Biting those hot red painted lips and battering those false lashes at him, Chanel modeled into the bedroom.

Miles did not blink once as his lecherous gaze trailed heatedly after her. Just for tonight, he could let bygones be bygones and enjoy a night with a Preston. With that affirmation, he hurried to his cellar for a bottle of Pinot Noir and grabbed two glasses on his way back to the bedroom.

When he walked into the bedroom, Miles sighed at the sight of the woman in his bed. Good gracious. Miles sighed inwardly. 

Miles handed her the wine, all the while not breaking eye contact. She took a painfully slow sip of the wine that he felt it in his groins. She had barely placed the lipstick stained glass back on the nightstand when he pulled her in for another kiss. 

Not to waste time, he hoisted her up. With those long captivating legs wrapped around his torso, he made his way to the bed. With a few desperate finger flips, her flimsy lingerie gave way, giving him more access to the creamy flesh beneath.

The discarding of clothes ended with both of them lying naked in the plush silk covers of his bed, staring at each other with labored breaths.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

Miles Dekker woke up thoroughly satiated. Last night was beyond words, and he no doubt needed more of that fire. But after the call from his lawyer that morning, the last thing on his mind was sex.

Chanel Preston? What the fuck were you thinking?

His lawyer's words rang in his mind. Miles watched her as she sleepily patted the space beside her for him— or her phone he couldn't tell. But her manicured fingers only grasped silk sheets.

“Miles?” She called out in grogginess and wrapped part of the silk sheet around her birthday suit.

Miles cleared his throat from where he stood in front of the dresser. “You're awake.” His tone was measured as he adjusted his cuffs. He got a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Lewis said not to dress business casual for their meeting with the board of directors so guess the fitting black suit would have to appease those vultures.

“Where to?” Chanel inquired, a deep frown marring her features as she sat up in bed. “I thought we were going to order room service, and you know…”

This was the part he dreaded. When they wanted more than good sex. Provided Chanel Preston wasn't just any fling but that still didn't make it any easier.

“Sorry I've an important meeting that can't wait-” Miles stopped himself before he could finish that sentence. Probably best not to lead with that. “I'm needed at the office.”

Chanel was quiet for a long second before she met his gaze in the mirror. “Of course.” She sat upright, pulling more sheets to cover her bare bosom.

“Try the darker blue tie. It'll match your eye.” She went ahead to pull on her panties.

Miles looked at the two ties laid on the dresser. He met her gaze again in the mirror. He could smell the drama a mile away before she even scooted off the bed and flung the silk sheets somewhere across the bed. Miles almost rolled his eyes at her theatrics.

“Sorry we couldn't grab breakfast before-”

“Whatever, Oliver Queen.” She cut him off and bypassed him to grab her bra from the dresser.

Miles flinched at the nickname. Of course she had to bring that up. As if she had an issue fucking him.

She turned to him once she had zipped her dress. “Just another Preston to add to the list right?”

“We are not doing this.” Miles snatched the tie she did not recommend and sidestepped her. “I will call you a cab.”

“I drove here.” She snapped. She stormed out of the bedroom but stopped by the doorway abruptly as if she had just remembered something.

“Oh by the way, who is Noelle?”

Shit. Miles' blanched at her question. Everything made sense now. Chanel Preston weaseling her way into his bed last night was just to get dirt on him.

That's what he gets for not keeping it in his pants. Miles cussed himself for falling for her shenanigans. She was a journalist for fuck sake. Of course she wasn't just there for his collection of vintage wines and bedmatics.

“Who?” Miles played along. Maybe she would drop the subject if he acted clueless.

She stepped back into the suite, with that damn calculated smile. “My bad, did I forget to mention that I'm working on a piece about the last Dekker fundraiser?”

Miles swallowed hard. He tried to steady his heartbeat with a quick calm exhale before he gave much away. “Is that what this was about?” He motioned between them? “You wanted dirt on my family for your next piece?”

“Come on Miles. You know this…” She mimicked him by motioning between them. “Is not personal. It's just showbiz sprinkled with a little pleasure.”

Miles' nose flared. “Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less from you.”

Her gaze was full of mirth as she spoke. “You didn't hear this from me but sources say it was more than a mother-son banter between Mama Dekker and bachelor numero uno.” She poked him in the chest not so lightly. “I would take a comment or two but I wouldn't want to keep you from that important meeting.”

Did he just get played?

Miles cursed Chanel Preston to the pits of hell as she sashayed out of his suite.

“Call my office if you'd like to comment.” The entrance door slammed behind her, the sudden quiet startling Miles.

Damnit.

Miles rushed for his cell phone on the nightstand and dialed his grandmother first to check up on her but it went straight to voicemail.

‘Abuela it's Miles, please call me back. Can we hold off on the picnic today this weekend? Tell Elle I'm so sorry but we will reschedule next week okay? Just not today. Please call me.’

Goddammit. How the hell did Chanel Preston hear that name? He had been careful. For six years he had done everything right. And now, he was about to get burned by a one night stand.

Fuck his life. Miles almost screamed.

Grabbing his car keys from the nightstand, he pranced out of the penthouse, dialing his lawyer's number as he hurried into the elevator.

A gag order. That was his best shot to stop Chanel and whoever the hell her source was from sharing whatever information they had on his family. Especially her.

His guard, Sam, made to follow him but Miles took the car keys and asked him to stay back. Inasmuch as he trusted Sam, anyone could be a liability at the moment.

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Thanks for reading, love.

Ok, so this is the first time I'm writing in a 3rd person's POV so bear with me.