by J. L. Leslie
Thirty-Four
Havoc
I am not a man who’s good with children. It doesn’t come naturally to me and if I’m being completely honest with myself, I never imagined having children. So, when this little girl practically force-feeds chocolate chips into my mouth, I can’t help but laugh.
“Makaila, you know the rules,” Frankie says, and I turn to see her walking in the back door with a young boy at her side. “If the doorbell rings, you come and get me.”
“It’s Havie!” Rory says.
Without acknowledging me, Frankie comes to grab the trays of cookie dough and goes to place them into the oven. She slams the door shut so hard the trays rattle on the racks.
“Get cleaned up and go to the office to do your homework.”
Although the kids groan a bit, they do as they’re told and it’s only a few minutes before she’s alone with me.
“Do I need to file a restraining order?” she asks, exasperated.
“Would you truly go to those lengths to keep me away?”
“That, or a commitment petition for a mental institution. You’re obviously a lunatic.”
I laugh at this. “Perhaps that would be best. I’ve been told I’m not acting like myself lately.”
“I can’t help you with that,” she says. “You need to go.”
“I received some unexpected news today. I thought I found a way to simplify things, but my efforts were null and void.”
“Shocking,” she says dryly.
“I am fighting here, Frankie. There hasn’t been a day that’s passed that I haven’t tried to figure a way out of this mess.”
“That’s the problem, Julian. You’re trying to find all these different ways out of your dilemma when there’s only one way. It’s not going to be the easiest way because that’s life, but it’s the only way.”
Frustrated, I run a hand through my hair and heave out a sigh. “I am putting everything at risk for you and you can’t even fucking see that.”
She lowers her eyes, unwilling to look at me, and it dawns on me. I’m doing all of this for nothing. The result won’t change. I won’t have her either way.
“I’m wasting my fucking time, aren’t I?” I ask, and she snaps her eyes up to mine. “It wouldn’t matter if I called off my engagement and lost it all. You still wouldn’t give me another chance.”
“I just can’t trust you.”
“Either way, I lose.”
She doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t give me any glimmer of hope that I have a shot in hell with her. I am turning my world upside down for her, and it’s for absolutely nothing. I thought I was the one who wreaked havoc on people’s lives, denying them the money they request, buying out the businesses they spent their lives building only to destroy them. The havoc I’ve wreaked is nothing compared to the devastation she’s had on my life.
She has completely destroyed me.
“I won’t bother you again.”
Frankie parts her lips as though she’s going to speak, but then seals them shut. Whatever she had on her mind to say, her heart put a stop to it.
I walk out of F&C’s, finally accepting that this is over.
Thirty-Five
Frankie
I keep it together until I know he’s gone, and then I rush to the bathroom and let the tears fall. Sure, I promised Claire I wouldn’t cry over him again, but I’m not built that way. I can’t pretend that I’m not hurting. That I’m not heartbroken.
I should have told him the truth. If he calls off his engagement, I would give him another chance. I may be hesitant, or at least, I would attempt to be, but I would not allow myself to walk away.
I may not fully understand him and his world, but I know it’s vastly different from mine. When there are multi-million-dollar companies at stake, people take desperate measures. He’s in a desperate situation and is unsure what to do.
I wash my face, cleaning the salty tears away, and dry it with a paper towel before emerging. The kids are still in the office working on their homework, so I go open the door and tell the girls their cookies are almost finished.
“You all right, Aunt Frankie?” Seth asks, concern written all over his teenage face. My nephew is going to be a great guy to a lucky girl one day. Hopefully not to this Emmy chick. She doesn’t deserve him.
“Yes, I’m all right.”
“You are worthy, Aunt Frankie. He may not see that, but I do.”
Seth’s words bring tears to my eyes that I quickly blink back. “Thank you,” I say. “Now, let’s go check on those cookies.”
When the timer goes off, I help the girls get the cookies out of the oven, breathing in the sweet scent of chocolate. Sometimes, that’s all a broken heart needs. Chocolate. In my case, there isn’t enough chocolate in the world, but I don’t mind trying.
The four of us are eating gooey chocolate chip cookies when Claire arrives to pick up the kids. Rory has chocolate smeared all over her cheeks. Makaila and Seth managed to stay clean, but I do see them both licking their fingers.
“What’s this?” Claire asks, toting a briefcase in her hands as she joins us. “It was on the counter out front.”
She puts it on the counter and checks for a tag or label of any sort. When she doesn’t have success with that, she opens it and pulls out one of the folders that’s tucked neatly inside. I watch her skim over the document, her head slowly shaking.
“I think you should read this,” she says. “And then you should return his briefcase. When you do, tell him he needs to grow a set. The world will not fall apart if he doesn’t marry Anneliese Deviline.”
I take the papers from her and see that I have Julian’s prenuptial agreement. It’s several pages long and there seems to be a contingency for each item listed. He wasn’t lying when he said his engagement is all about business. He receives a hotel chain if he stays married to her for five years.
“Let me see your phone,” I tell Seth and he narrows his eyes at me. “Just give it to me.”
I Google the hotel chain and discover there is one in nearly every state in the U.S. and several all over the world. This is not a small business he would become the CEO of, but one of the top hotel chains in existence. If he partnered with his father’s business, I can only imagine that they would be unstoppable.
All he has to do is give up a few years of his life.
“It’s messed up that this is how our world works. The rich get richer and we struggle to make ends meet.”
I know this is the way Claire sees it. It’s even the way I see it, but I see much more than that. Call me a romantic, but I see a man who needs saving. The thing is, I have no idea how to rescue the villain in the story.
Thirty-Six
Havoc
She called me a lunatic. Frankie called me a damn lunatic. Have I slipped so far from who I am, who I thought I was?
I despise myself for being so weak when it comes to her. I am not a weak man. I’m not sensitive, loving, or compassionate, any of the things that make up the type of man Frankie deserves.
But, for her, I want to be.
I have told myself to be ruthless with her, to push and push until she gives in. That’s how I conduct business. I go after what I want with relentless pursuit and damn anyone who attempts to get in my way. I have done hostile takeovers, buyouts, and even pulled strings to push foreclosures along ― anything to get what I want. Those tactics don’t work with Frankie.
I am torn between the man I am and the man I want to be. She isn’t a business deal. I can’t throw my money at her and have her bend to my will. I can’t make threats of what will happen if she doesn’t see things my way. I don’t have the upper hand here.
Pissed at that acknowledgment, I finish off the drink I poured the moment I arrived at home. Drowning my sorrows is not what I normally do, but then again, I’m not my normal self.
I lean back in my chair, anxious to let the soothing music from the record player ease my tension. I’m playing her record so it’s
no surprise it only reminds me of Frankie. She’s even taken that from me.
I close my eyes and relax my head against the back of the chair. I should turn off the music, get off my ass, and stop pining after Frankie Conn. I’ve never lost at anything in my life, but I can admit defeat.
I glance over at my empty glass and I’m tempted to refill it. When I relax again, the flashing of a red light on the shelf catches my attention. I furrow my brow, unsure where the blinking light is coming from. I stare at it, unmoving, and then it hits me. It’s a camera.
I get up and go over to the shelf, peering up. Sure enough, a small black camera is positioned above the books in the top corner of the shelf. It’s angled so that it basically has a view of my entire office. How have I not noticed this before?
I slip off my shoes and place one bare foot on the shelf, knowing it’s built into the wall and won’t collapse on top of me. I climb until I can reach the camera, snatching it from its hidden position.
The flashing light is a low battery indicator. I check the device for a memory card and find it. Perhaps it will give me some insight as to who installed it. Who has been invading my privacy in my own home.
I insert the memory card into my computer and click to open the saved recordings. They’re assorted by date and go back several months. Whoever installed this has done a damn good job of keeping the battery replaced because I had no fucking clue that it was even there.
I click on the one dated the night of my engagement party. I promise myself I won’t jack off to the sight of Frankie and me fucking. I simply want to know if it was recorded.
The camera must have some sort of motion detection because it only records when there is movement in the room. I move the mouse of the screen, fast-forwarding until I see Frankie walk in. I chuckle a little at the sight of her stealing my rubber band.
She pulls her hair up, and then moments later she’s crawling underneath my desk. I remember her mentioning someone having sex in my office.
Did it make you wet, la mia fiamma? Listening to that couple having sex?
Thinking of her response to my question makes my dick hard. I adjust myself, fighting the urge to reach my hand into my pants and stroke myself until I come.
Then, the couple she heard enters the room. Anger fills me, a rage I can’t quite describe.
You don’t seem to mind any other time I’m playing games with you.
I forget the fact that Frankie is hiding underneath the desk as I watch Anneliese fuck the one man I thought I could trust.
This was all a set up from the beginning. Every single aspect of the agreement was all planned out. Only it wasn’t orchestrated by Roger Deviline. The poor bastard probably has no idea what’s happening.
It’s time to wreak some fucking havoc.
Thirty-Seven
Frankie
This is a bad idea. Probably the worst I’ve ever had. I know the outcome, but I can’t seem to find the strength to walk away. Even as I’m standing at his door, using his briefcase as an excuse to be here, I know this is a mistake.
At least I feel that way until he opens the door and is standing before me. The shirt he had on earlier today is unbuttoned, exposing his toned abdomen and the light dusting of hair that forms a trail into his pants. He has a drink in his hand, and I can tell it isn’t his first one, although he doesn’t appear to be drunk.
I hold his briefcase out to him, and he frowns down at it before taking it from me and placing it on a table just inside the door. He takes a sip of his drink, licking his lips, and my knees feel weak. It’s then that I hear music in the background. The soft sound of the record I sent him is playing. Damn him.
I shake my head, trying to reinforce my initial instinct that I shouldn’t be here. That I will hate myself for coming here even if I came for the right reasons. I cannot save him, and in all honesty, he doesn’t deserve my help.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I mutter and turn to leave.
Julian grabs my wrist, jerking me inside the house. The glass he’s holding drops and shatters on the floor as his lips find mine. He kicks the door closed, hauling me against him and pressing my body against the wall.
My world tilts, everything around me disappears as my existence is tethered to his. The pain he’s in seeps through and I take it from him. I let him pour it into me, that need, that ache. He needs me as much as I need him, and it doesn’t matter how fucked up the situation is. My heart is broken without him, so it can’t be destroyed any further.
His hand holds my knee in place, hiked up over his hip. I’m grateful for the wall behind me, holding me up. His free hand slips beneath my skirt and finds my core, already wet. I buck into him as he pushes two fingers inside me.
“Oh, God,” I cry out, as he pushes his thumb to my clit.
My orgasm hits me fast, my body pulsing. I’m still ruminating in the aftereffects when Julian slides my panties down my legs. He fumbles with his pants, no doubt unbuttoning them, and the next thing I know, I’m being lifted again. I hook my ankles behind his back and feel the tip of his dick pushing inside me.
I bite my bottom lip and gaze at him, my eyelids hooded with desire as he slides in. I cup his face, moving my thumb over his lips as he fucks me. My hands begin to tremble, and I drop them to his shoulders, holding on. Julian doesn’t slow his pace as his lips find mine again, ravaging my mouth before he moves to my neck.
My eyes fill with tears as I’m drawn to the brink again. The pleasure is overwhelming, but so is the pain that comes with the shame of knowing who he’s made me become. What he’s turned me into.
I’m the other woman. I am helping him cheat. There is zero excuse for that except the excuse that I’ve fallen in love with Julian Havoc. I’m not willing to let him go.
He thrusts into me, his body going taut and still as he comes, and I whisper his name through my own release, tears streaking down my cheeks. He kisses away my tears and then rests his forehead to mine.
“Stay with me,” he pleads. “You can worry about how much of a mistake this is tomorrow. Tonight, you belong with me.”
I slowly nod, and still holding me, Julian carries me through his house and to his bedroom. I can ignore the consequences of this tonight. I need to be with him.
Thirty-Eight
Havoc
I sit on the edge of my bed, reading the prenup again while Frankie sleeps. I know I can’t go through with marrying Anneliese, not after what I saw on that video and not after what happened with Frankie tonight.
I have never craved someone’s touch as much as I do hers. I always prided myself on being ruthless, heartless, capable of shutting out everyone else in the world and doing what had to be done, especially when it comes to HLS.
Now, I couldn’t care less if we lost everything, closed our doors, filed for bankruptcy, so long as I get to be with her.
“What time is it?” Frankie asks, rolling over and joining me on the edge of the bed. She positions herself behind me, her legs around my waist.
“It’s late,” I answer. “Or early, depending on how you look at it. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t,” she replies. “I just missed your warmth.”
I turn and she leans over, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. It seems like she’s saying goodbye although she’s still curled around my body.
“I’m going to see Roger Deviline today,” I say. “I’m not signing the prenup. I’m calling it all off.”
She rests her chin on my shoulder. “I read the agreement. If you call it off, you don’t take ownership of the hotel chain. Is that really what you want?”
“It’s what my father wants.”
“And what about you? What is it that you want?”
I face her, pushing her back onto the bed until she’s lying beneath me. “You.”
We’re still undressed, having not bothered with putting our clothes back on earlier, and when she spreads her legs to accommodate me, I slip the head of my dick inside her. I tease her
, barely entering before I rub my cock along her seam.
Frankie writhes beneath me, straining to have me deeper, her fingers digging into my ass cheeks. With a groan, I push inside her a bit deeper, peering down at her with questioning eyes since I haven’t bothered with a condom. I was in too much of a hurry to ask before.
Without saying a word, she lifts her hips and welcomes me in, taking every inch into her hot pussy. I growl, unable to control my reaction, and thrust inside her again and again.
“You’re so fucking incredible,” I whisper against her ear as I pound into her. “You were made for me, Frankie. Tell me.”
“I was made for you,” she says, panting heavily. “Only for you. I love you.”
Her words make me falter, but I don’t stop. I simply change my speed, fucking her slow and deep. My mouth is on her mouth, neck, shoulder, wherever I can taste her.
“I love you,” she whispers again, her body clinging to mine.
I’m so fucking close but I need to know she comes first. Need her to come apart for me. She whimpers and moans with each thrust, driving me insane with the little noises she makes.
“You are only mine,” I say. “Nothing can keep me from you.”
“Yes! Please!”
“You have destroyed me,” I confess. “I love you, la mia fiamma.”
With my admission, she cries out my name, her pussy gripping me as she comes. My own release follows, and I stay deep inside her, coating her walls with my cum. The need to completely fill her with me, all of me, uncontrollable.
I am absolutely, irrevocably, captivated by this woman.
Thirty-Nine
Frankie