Happily Ever After: A Romance Collection

by Amelia Wilde

  Something about the way he said that had me flushed all over again.

  “Mr. Sterling, why am I here? Somehow I don’t think it was just to enjoy a cup of tea or argue about shoes.”

  He sat back and rubbed a big hand over his face. “Haven’t I told you yet to call me by my first name?”

  I shook my head. I would have remembered that.

  “It’s Brandon,” he said. “You should call me Brandon. Especially since I asked you up here because I’d like to fuck you. Tonight, if that works.”

  I nearly dropped my cup. I must have imagined it. Was he that stupid? Making sexual advances on an intern? At work? In his office?

  “Let me be clear that this is in no way work-related,” Sterling continued––I couldn’t yet bring myself to think of him as Brandon. “And since you have already turned down a job offer here multiple times, I don’t expect this can be constituted as sexual harassment. Are we clear?”

  So, he wasn’t stupid, just daring. The safer move would have been to wait until I was no longer an employee of his company. But…he hadn’t. Maybe because he knew the undeniable attraction I was feeling. Maybe, a small voice said, because he felt it too.

  “Um, okay. I suppose we are,” I said, finally finding my voice again. “You’re not going to jump me here, are you?” Please jump me.

  Sterling leaned back and laughed from his gut. “God, no, Red. Sorry, but no. Although it’s a soft rug…”

  Did he have ESP? Sterling scooted closer so that our legs were now flush together. There was a subtle combination of soap, laundry detergent, and some unique scent that belonged just to him—something vaguely metallic mixed with almonds. It smelled…unique. And disturbingly good.

  We were close enough that I could see the small creases at the edges of his eyes and a few frown lines across his forehead—the first obvious signs of our age difference. The eleven years should have deterred me, but now seemed inconsequential. His cheeks already had a tiny bit of stubble, suggesting he shaved at night, rather than the morning. And his lips were fuller than I had initially thought—soft and ripe.

  “Seriously, though,” he said. His eyes were vast, watchful pools of blue. “It’s a cliché, I know…but since Friday, I…I can’t stop thinking about…”

  A tentative finger touched the curve of my jaw. It traced down to my chin and up to rest on my lower lip, which was tucked firmly in between my teeth. Sterling’s eyes were now almost dark as the night sky, pupils dilated with lust.

  I released my lip and pulled away, but only a fraction, since he had already pushed me into the corner of the couch. His hand dropped into his lap, and he cleared his throat.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m putting the cart before the horse. It’s...a bad habit of mine.”

  Sterling stood up and walked over to the fire, where he poked at it before sitting on the edge of the hearth.

  “You’re a law student,” he said. “Motivated. Busy. I don’t know why you don’t have a job yet, but I’m guessing Sterling Grove isn’t the first place to court you. I’d bet my stock portfolio you’ll be spending most of the next semester networking along with your regular classes, clinic, maybe some other extracurriculars. Am I right?”

  He leaned forward, causing one lock of thick blond hair to fall forward onto his forehead before he pushed it back. I finished my tea and kept the now empty cup in my hands if only to keep them from shaking. I didn’t know whether I should slap him, sue him, or jump him. I was so completely out of my league.

  “Okay,” I replied slowly. “But—so what?”

  “You’re direct,” he observed. “That’ll make this easier. My point is, I sympathize. I’m a founding partner of a top-ten national law firm and the controlling shareholder of Sterling Ventures. My jobs are very, very demanding of my time.” He paused. “When was the last time you went on a date, Skylar?”

  I frowned at the sudden change of subject. Sterling returned to the couch. He smiled that feline smile that was starting to become unnervingly familiar. One big arm slid around the back of the couch behind my back, the other crossing my lap to rest a hand on the couch arm, effectively caging me with his body. Again.

  “I—I don’t understand,” I stammered. “Do you want to date me or sleep with me? Because they’re not the same thing.”

  “No, they’re not. I’m glad you know the difference,” he said dryly. “Since neither of us has time for that nonsense.”

  “Nonsense?”

  “Drama. Attachment. Waste of time. But since it’s clear that this…whatever this is…isn’t going away, the best thing to do is probably to nip it in the bud, don’t you think?”

  “You want to...” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word “fuck” in the middle of my boss’s office. “You know…it out of our systems?” I set my cup on the side table, unable to hold it steady anymore.

  “I’d probably use a different word, but yeah. Pretty much.” Sterling looked me over. “You get this cute crease on your chin when you frown, Red.” He released the cage of his arms to touch the tender spot just below my lower lip.

  His hand traced down my back, causing me to arch reflexively against his chest. Both hands found my waist, then moved up the sides until his thumbs grazed the fabric just beneath my breasts. His touch was still innocent, but felt utterly forbidden. What might he be able to do when there wasn’t anything impeding him?

  “It would be amazing, you know,” he murmured into my ear, the rumble of his deep voice causing every hair on the back of my neck to stand up in want. “Fucking unbelievable. You know that too, don’t you?”

  “When?” I murmured, half hoping he would say “now.”

  Instead, he sat back and crossed his arms over his broad chest, considering the question. I practically wilted.

  “You’ll come over Friday nights. Every other Saturday as long as my schedule permits, and that may include attending the occasional dinner meeting or benefit as my date. You’ll have an allowance for whatever clothes and salon services you need. You’ll benefit too. The contacts alone from these things will make your career in whatever industry you want. No strings. No sleepovers. Nothing to get in the way of both of our very busy lives. You can stay in the guest room or my driver will take you home after.” He shrugged. “The choice is up to you. If things progress further, I’ll get you an apartment near campus, your office, a car, whatever you need. The idea is to make this as convenient as possible.”

  The haze of his touch rapidly faded with every practical phrase. No strings. Apartment. Convenient. His proposal might sound better if there were even an iota of the kind, thoughtful man I’d met three days before, but that man wasn’t anywhere in this room. There was a word for what he was asking for.

  “You want me to be your mistress.” It was not a question. In the harsh light of clarity, what I saw was not good.

  “Well, no,” Sterling said uneasily. “You can’t be a mistress if I’m not with anyone else.”

  “But you essentially want me to be your weekend call girl.” Two throw pillows fell off the couch as I stood up. Blood rushed from my head in a way that only provided increased clarity. “Should we establish a rate, Mr. Sterling? A Harvard brain like mine doesn’t come cheap, you know. What’s the going rate for summa cum laude?”

  “Well, it’s not really your brain I’m after right now, Red.” His words were playful, but his tone was sharp, bordering on cruel.

  “Fuck. You,” I said slowly and clearly, my cheeks suddenly blazing for very different reasons than before. “I’m not some goddamn object to be used at your beck and call. You’re lucky I’m already leaving; otherwise I would file a sexual harassment suit so big this firm would collapse from bad press alone, you utter. Fucking. Pig.”

  I strode past him with as much indignation as I could manage, despite tripping briefly over the red shoes. Their color, a vibrant shock against the subdued brown and burgundy of the carpet, only reminded me further how insulting his offer was. It seemed garish
. Whorish.

  I reached to open the door, only to have it held firmly in place when a hand slapped on it above my shoulder.

  “That’s quite a mouth you’ve got there, Red,” Sterling hummed into my ear. “But fair warning: a little spitfire only turns me on that much more.”

  “Let me go,” I gritted through my teeth.

  “No.”

  With his other hand, he spun me around so I was effectively trapped against the door.

  “Look at me,” he commanded.

  I couldn’t help but follow his order. I hated that just his proximity could eat through my rage and disgust over what was fundamentally an offer to prostitute myself. His expression echoed the same––lust? Longing? I didn’t know what to call it––that I had also felt for the past three nights. Maybe it was just the strain of how badly we both wanted each other, but I thought I saw a note of pain in his fathomless eyes.

  “Tell me you don’t feel what’s between us.”

  His forearms, fencing either side of my head, flexed with tension. Was he holding himself back or bracing for my resistance? Sterling leaned in close enough that our cheeks were almost touching. His breath whispered across my skin. All my righteousness was quickly fading.

  “Can you tell me you didn’t want me to strip you down right there, in front of the fire, and take you?”

  He grazed the tip of his nose down my neck, eliciting goose bumps in its wake and a small, traitorous moan from the back of my throat. He growled back, low and fierce.

  “Let me make you feel good,” he rumbled as one hand grabbed me around my waist. He pulled my body flush against his. “Please.”

  “Ahh…” I moaned again. Purely by reflex, both of my hands threaded into the thicket of hair at the base of his neck and yanked.

  He needed no more invitation. His lips conquered mine as he pressed me hard against the door with the length of his body. He sucked on my bottom lip like candy, tangled his tongue with mine again and again as if he couldn’t taste enough of me. His hands gripped my ass so hard I yelped, a sound quickly stifled with his lips. I was just starting to fumble with the buttons of his shirt when we were suddenly interrupted by the loud screech of the telephone on his desk.

  I froze, suddenly aware that his secretary was on the other side of the door. The phone rang three more times and fell silent. Sterling pulled away, visibly annoyed.

  “Jesus,” he gasped, staring as if seeing me for the first time. “That is quite a mouth on you.”

  I didn’t say anything, just chewed on my bottom lip and avoided his searching gaze.

  “Say yes,” he said as he buried his face into my neck. “Come to my house tonight, Red. We’ll figure it all out then.”

  I almost did as his lips started to nibble their way to my ear. But my eyes caught the edge of the file still sitting on the couch—a reminder of just how businesslike he wanted this endeavor to be. Suddenly I saw a stack of bills left on a nightstand, like he might treat a cheap hooker. I saw myself rearranging my schedule to meet his needs. Lying in bed, waiting for his phone calls until odd hours of the morning. Being pushed away the next day, treated like I was nothing.

  I pushed him away forcefully, ignoring the confusion that clouded his handsome features and the way my skin yearned for his touch.

  “No,” I said quietly. “And not in the kind of way where you should think I mean yes just because you kissed me. I just mean no. As in never.”

  “Skylar, please, I—”

  “I’m sure there are some escort services you can call to get what you want,” I said woodenly as I grabbed the doorknob. “You should have HR burn my file along with those goddamn shoes. I’d rather you didn’t have a way to contact me after I’m gone.”

  I didn’t bother to wait for a response. My blouse had come untucked, and there was no way that my hair looked anything short of a disaster, but I still managed to smile politely at Margie on my way out. She watched curiously as I passed, but somehow, I suspected that you didn’t become the assistant of one of the most powerful men in Boston without being able to keep your mouth shut. I barely registered the slam of a large, heavy door as I walked back to the bottom floor where I belonged.

  7

  “Why the fuck not?”

  Jane’s reaction to Sterling’s proposal was not at all what I expected. From the kitchen, I looked at her like she’d grown horns. She just shrugged and went back to eating her ramen at the bar. It was the kind that comes in individual cups of dried noodles and dehydrated spices—Jane’s version of comfort food.

  “It’s not like he suggested a monthly rate or anything,” she said through a mouthful of noodles. “He made some good points. You’re busy. He’s busy. Neither of you has time for a relationship. What’s not to like about hot, weekly sex with a gorgeous billionaire, some new clothes, and a driver? Isn’t the Red Line down again this week?”

  She shoved another bunch of noodles in her mouth with satisfaction, as if to say, “the prosecution rests.” I grimaced and pulled a container of matzo ball soup out of a paper bag. Jane wasn’t wrong, but Sterling had just been so damn businesslike about it. I felt like some acquisition, not a person.

  “Do you even remember your last relationship?” Jane asked, gesturing with her chopsticks.

  “No, not if I can help it. It’s why I don’t like talking about him, Jane.” I tipped my soup into a bowl and padded around to sit next to her.

  “Patrick was supposed to be your boyfriend, and he treated you like shit. He was jealous and clingy, and at the same time he was off nailing every easy piece of ass in Manhattan so he could give you VD as a parting gift,” she continued, disregarding my comment. “And I saw how freaked out you were by the idea of dating a guy like Jared, who is so safe he’s practically a blow-up doll. So maybe Sterling’s got the right idea. Drop the pretense of dating altogether. We—and by we, I do mean you—can’t afford right now to get wrapped up in a shitty relationship, and we clearly can’t handle a decent one. You could do this.”

  “Okay, okay, I get it,” I said as I scooped up a bite of dumpling and broth. It wasn’t as good as Bubbe’s, but it still reminded me of home, which I badly needed. “But still, I’d at least like the invitation to stay the night. So, you know, I feel like a person, and not a movie rental. Jesus.”

  Jane stood up to clear her bowl, having demolished the entire container. Despite eating like a linebacker, the girl was a rail, blessed with a high metabolism aided by an occasional cigarette habit, unending coffee consumption, and a penchant for late-night activities.

  “He did say you could spend the night,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, to sleep in separate rooms!” I cried out, flinging my spoon around. “Or separate apartments. You know, whatever’s most convenient!”

  Jane stood on the other side of the counter, patiently waiting for me to quiet down.

  “You finished?” she asked when I had dropped my spoon back into my bowl and started wiping up my mess.

  I glared at her. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now listen. You like this guy. He likes you. He’s a businessman. He was just opening the first round of negotiations.”

  “But—”

  “And no one sleeps well when they have to share a bed anyway.”

  “But—”

  “Just think about it.” Jane started to clean up her dishes. “You ignore that part of yourself way too much, Sky. It might be just what you need before real life starts.”

  I did think about it. I couldn’t help it. For the rest of the week, my thoughts strayed to Sterling’s warm lips and deft touch when I wasn’t carefully focused. Twice I was tempted to call the number on his business card and tell him I was in. But every time I walked into the building bearing his name, I scowled. I deserved more than to be some guy’s Friday night booty call. Negotiating sex might work for Jane, but it wouldn’t for me.

  On Friday afternoon, the junior associates rewarded the interns and temps with Dunkin’ Donuts and coffee. I
gobbled mine in a hurry. I was taking the eight o’clock bus from South Street Station to New York for the weekend before classes began on Monday.

  “Skylar!”

  Ben approached me with the last of the donuts. I smiled, but shook my head at the offer.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I’ve already had two. Gonna have to spend an extra hour in the pool just to get rid of them.”

  Ben smiled. “Couldn’t hurt to try. Hey, listen, Laura and I wanted to say that we appreciated your hard work over the last several months. If you change your mind about working for Sterling, we could probably find a place for you here.”

  I grinned. “Thanks, Ben. I appreciate that. I’ll let you know if something changes.”

  He winked and went to solicit the rest of the donuts. I hauled my overnight bag over my shoulder.

  “You know, this doesn’t have to be goodbye if you give me your number,” Steve said, popping around the cubicle wall. “Although since I’ll be working with your buddy the chick-magnet over there, maybe I’ll still get to see your pretty face.”

  “Maybe,” I said, accepting an awkward hug. It was funny, but I’d actually miss his goofy come-ons. “See you, Steve.”

  “Hey, Skylar,” Eric called from across the room, where he was chatting up a legal assistant who looked very friendly.

  I sighed. Eric would have to stop dipping his pen in the company ink if he ever planned to make partner. Or wanted to avoid a harassment suit. From the looks of the girl’s face, it looked like he’d already started to cut those ties anyway.

  Chocolate donut in hand, Eric jogged over. “See you in class on Monday? You’re taking the family law clinic, right?”

  I nodded. “Yep, bright and early. You too?”

  He nodded back. “Yeah. They say I need more diverse electives before I take the bar. Have you talked to you-know-who since Monday?”

  I hadn’t told Eric everything about what went down in Sterling’s office, but I had insinuated enough on the train home. He had been asking me all week if I’d talked to him.