by Mia Knight
“You’ll receive one hundred million at the end of the year.”
Her eyes flew open. “What? Why?”
“It’s expected.”
“I don’t need it!”
“You’ll take it.”
“I’ll donate it to charity.”
“Do what you want with it. In the meantime, don’t touch your inheritance. While you’re with me, I pay your way.”
“Keep your money, Roth. You’re going to need it for the next woman you buy.”
“We’ll see if you’re this brave tonight.”
His hand smoothed down her thigh and then came back up to rest far too close to her crotch for comfort.
“I haven’t signed the prenup yet.”
“In Colorado, there was no contract, and you spread wide for me.”
“That was before I remembered what an asshole you are.”
“I can be,” he agreed. “Being nice hasn’t gotten me anywhere in life.”
She opened her mouth to snap, but his next words stopped her.
“But I have everything I want now, so I’ll try.”
She was relieved when he took another call so she could fortify her shields. She couldn’t let him get to her. He was a bully and blackmailer and willing to topple companies with thousands of employees out of his petty need for vengeance. He might play the nice guy at times, but she couldn’t allow herself to forget that he had destroyed her once. She wouldn’t let him do it again.
Desperate for a distraction, she retreated into her fictional world. The new plot she uncovered last night still pulsed with life, but it was getting dimmer by the second. Too much real-life shit. If she didn’t find the time to write, her idea would slip away, and she’d be lost again. She wanted her laptop, noise-canceling earphones, and a couple of hours to make some progress.
She tried to explore her plot, but she couldn’t think without a pen in her hand. She didn’t realize she was scribbling on her leg with her finger until Roth dropped a small booklet and pen on her lap. He seemed absorbed in his phone call, but the notebook and pen suggested differently. This means nothing, she told herself again as she eagerly flipped through pages listed with figures, acronyms, and names. His notes looked like math formulas from a mad scientist. When she found a fresh page, she began to write.
By the time they pulled up to 432 Park Avenue, she was completely immersed in her story. She stepped out of the SUV and was pulled to a stop by Roth.
“I have a meeting in Boston,” he said.
“Okay,” she said distractedly.
“There’s a restaurant you can order from or a five-star chef on call for dinner. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
When she tried to walk away, he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her against him.
“Kiss me,” he ordered.
She looked up, eyes narrowed. “You can’t just demand—”
He covered her mouth with his. He ripped her out of her fictional world and slammed her back into the real one with such speed that she felt dizzy. When he detached his mouth from hers, she was aroused and annoyed, knowing he wasn’t going to do anything about it.
“Don’t bother wearing anything to bed,” he said before he slipped back into the SUV.
She watched it drive away before she turned and found Johan and a small crowd watching her. She cleared her throat and marched into the lobby. Johan followed, weighed down by all her belongings. Fucking Roth. He was trying to mess with her head.
Johan didn’t say a word as he rode the elevator with her. When they reached the penthouse, she walked into the massive living room and was entranced by the setting sun.
“Ms. Hennessy?” Johan said.
“Jasmine,” she said quietly.
“Jasmine, is there anything you need from me?”
She turned and saw her bags were missing. “Where’s my stuff?”
“I put them in the master bedroom. The housekeeper already unpacked your things we brought from the hotel.” When she grimaced, he took a step toward the hallway. “Should I…?”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll move them. Thank you.”
He pointed at a phone. “My number is on the notepad along with the restaurant. Press zero if you want to order anything and number two for the housekeeper. She has an apartment in the building and is on call.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head and boarded the elevator. She perched on the window seat and watched the sun go down. One day made a world of difference. Polara had been born, and she was now engaged to her ex-husband. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Colette.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m exhausted. I can’t wait to get out of here,” Colette said wearily.
“How’s the dynamo?”
“Docile,” Colette said. “I’m pleasantly surprised.”
“She’s faking.”
Colette snickered. “So Ariana keeps telling me.” She paused. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. We’re gonna be neighbors.”
“We are?”
“Roth lives at 432 Park Avenue.”
A pause and then, “Damn.”
“One of the top floors. I thought I’d seen the best of New York, but this view is worth whatever ridiculous price he paid for it.”
Colette’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you sure, Minnie? Marriage?”
Roth could be a first-class asshole and was definitely bad for her mental and emotional well-being, but she could do this. “Yes.”
“Lyle’s not happy.”
“I know.”
Colette sighed. “He’ll get over it.”
“I hope so. I just wanted to check in. How’s your blood pressure? Is everything okay?”
“They may keep me for another day.”
“Okay, well, keep me posted and send me pics of Polara.”
“Will do.”
She hung up and went into the master suite. Roth’s closet was as large as most people’s apartments and designed with custom nooks and crannies. The clothes she had bought from Bloomingdale’s and Black Jade hung on the opposite side of the closet from a rack of Roth’s suits. They were all relentless black and hung with military precision. He had a drawer of ties and watches and an army of polished shoes. Daiyu’s colorful pieces were a burst of color in the otherwise monotone closet. The notebook from the hotel where she had sketched her latest idea was on a glass shelf. She tucked the notebook under her arm before she grabbed the things she had brought from Tuxedo Park and put them in the guest bedroom. After she grabbed her laptop, she headed to the kitchen, which had the best lighting.
She sat at the massive island on a cushioned stool and propped her notebook against a bowl of fruit as she began to type what she’d written last night. When she finished, she went to the fridge and selected a lime soda water and picked up the landline phone and dialed zero.
“Ms. Hennessy, what can I do for you?”
The sexless, cool voice on the other end of the line made her jump. The phone didn’t even ring.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Hennessy, yes, what can I do for you? Mr. Roth said you’d be calling for dinner. What can we prepare?”
She looked around. “I don’t see a menu, so I’m not sure what you have.”
“Anything you want, we will make, Ms. Hennessy.”
She pursed her lips. “Okay, can I have grilled salmon with mashed potatoes and Brussels sprouts?”
“It’ll be sent up as soon as it’s ready. Any desserts?”
“Um, no, that’s okay. Thank you.”
“Our pleasure, Ms. Hennessy.”
She set the phone back in its cradle and stared at it for a moment. Whoa. 432 Park Avenue was doing it right. She had been treated to excellent service before, but this was next level. While she was waiting for her food to arrive, she showered and changed.
As she padded back into the main living area, once again, she was drawn to the vi
ew. Night had fallen, and New York City spread out beneath her. She was so used to being in the midst of the maze of buildings that looking down at them from this height was unsettling.
She jolted when the elevator dinged. A woman dressed in a white uniform walked out of the elevator with a silver trolley.
She smiled. “Ms. Hennessy?”
She nodded.
“I have your dinner. If you need anything, we’re available around the clock.”
“Thank you.”
“Enjoy your dinner.”
And that quickly, the woman stepped into the elevator and was gone. Jasmine shook her head. She could get used to this. She felt guilty asking Thea to cook for just one person, but this was perfect. She pushed the trolley into the kitchen and uncovered her meal. It was so artfully plated that she had to take a picture before she dug in. Between bites of fish that melted on her tongue, she dictated the notes she had made during the car ride and then got to work.
She tentatively punched the keys. Her gaze wandered around the kitchen and then to the magnificent view before she tapped some more. The more she wrote, the better she felt until all of her emotions drained away, leaving her pleasantly empty. When her vision blurred and her neck cramped from hunching over her laptop, she glanced at the time. Two in the morning.
She closed her laptop and tottered down the hallway. She didn’t feel like searching for toothpaste in the guest bathroom, so she went into Roth’s bathroom and used his. She didn’t need to turn on any lights when she had the city as a nightlight.
She padded over the heated floors to the guest room and slid beneath the covers. The duvet was so heavy, it felt like her weighted blanket at Tuxedo Park. The sheets smelled citrusy and sweet. She inhaled deeply and smiled as she got comfy.
Her world turned upside down. She screamed and put her hands out to brace herself, but they pedaled through the empty air.
“Didn’t I tell you not to wear anything to bed?”
Her cloudy mind barely had time to deduce who that deep rumble belonged to when she was falling again. She let out a stifled shriek as she landed on something soft. Large hands grasped the ankles of her sweats and dragged them off her legs. She moaned as her warm flesh touched cool sheets. A damp body crawled over her and gripped the front of her shirt. The silver glow of city lights bounced off Roth’s stark features.
“Don’t—” she began a moment before he yanked and buttons flew in every direction. “Dammit, Roth!”
He buried his face against her neck, and she hissed in annoyance.
“You’re wet!”
“Just stepped out of the shower,” he said as he sucked on her neck.
“What time is it?”
“Time to fuck.”
He didn’t give her time to prepare. He slid inside her and didn’t stop when she cried out and dragged her nails down his back. He purred and brushed kisses over her face as she cussed him out. He rocked slowly in and out of her until she quieted. He stared at her as he fucked her, commanding her attention without saying a word. Desire blossomed inside her, and her hands slid up his arms to his damp hair. Drunk on lust and still half asleep, she grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged until he dipped his head. Their mouths fused together. He planted his fists on either side of her as his rhythm changed. She moaned, urging him on. He began to move faster, rougher. She whispered what she needed against his lips, and he gave it to her, nudging her into a climax. He forced her legs to wrap high around his waist as he took his fill, making her ass bounce on the soft mattress until he came, shouting her name into the sheets and flooding her with cum. She nuzzled his neck as he slumped over her. He tipped to the side and adjusted her against him. He said something as he brushed her hair back from her face, but she was already slipping back to sleep.
Jasmine squinted at her surroundings. The gauzy white curtains were no hindrance to the blazing sunlight. She moaned and rolled. Her disgruntled gaze took in the room. She was in Roth’s master suite. She sat up and looked at her naked body. Fragments of their sexual encounter slid through her mind.
She rolled out of bed and passed her ripped shirt on the way to the bathroom. Roth wasn’t here. Maybe he’d already gone to work. If this was how the year was going to be, she could definitely deal. What girl wouldn’t be happy with room service, a great fuck, and excellent Wi-Fi? She showered and slipped into a robe because she was too lazy to dig through her things. Her story was front and center in her mind. All she wanted was coffee and her laptop. She was digging through the kitchen cabinets looking for coffee and filters when someone said her name.
“Jasmine.”
She leaped a foot and whirled with a scream to find Roth standing in the doorway dressed in a suit with a navy silk tie. She pressed a hand to her chest and slumped against the counter.
“You almost gave me a heart attack!”
When he approached, she eyed him warily. She blinked when he kissed her.
“Morning.”
“Hello,” she said awkwardly and then pressed against his chest to get some breathing room. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
She scowled. “Don’t you live at your office? What time did you come back last night?”
“You sound like a wife already.”
She turned away from him. “I’m looking for coffee.”
“Call room service.”
She made the call, and that sexless voice once again greeted her. It was only when the operator asked if she wanted breakfast that she ordered oatmeal. Since Roth was standing there, watching her, she asked if he wanted something. He shook his head. When she hung up, she said, “These people are amazing.”
“Amazing’s what I pay for,” he said and shrugged back his sleeve to look at his watch. “My plane leaves in two hours. Pack a bag. I have business in Germany, and I want you with me.”
She stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“But… I haven’t even unpacked.”
“Good. You don’t need to. And why were you sleeping in the guest bedroom?”
“We need our own space.”
He gestured around them. “This isn’t enough space?”
“It is! But why use the same bedroom when there are so many?”
“We won’t give the staff anything to talk about. We’ll share the same room.”
“Okay, but I can’t go to Germany.”
“Why?”
She pointed at her laptop. “I’m in flow! Finally!”
“You can write while I work.”
She grappled for more excuses. “I want to see Polara, and my attorney could call for me to sign.” When he still didn’t look convinced, she added, “And don’t you want me to call Dai about the dress thing?”
He raised a brow. “Dress thing?”
She grimaced and waved a hand. “You know…” She didn’t want to say “wedding” because it would make it too real. At the moment, her mind was allowing her to float partly in reality and partly in fiction, so she was neither here nor there, and that was how she wanted to stay.
He cocked his head as he surveyed her. “You’re different today.”
“I wrote last night.”
His eyes drifted to her laptop. “Book five is coming along?”
She stiffened. “Yes.”
“You figure out what happens to my character yet?”
She leaned against the island and crossed her arms. “A knife-wielding hooker cuts off your penis, and you bleed to death in a dirty motel in Vietnam?”
He strolled toward her and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “You don’t want to disappoint your fans, do you?”
She shoved him. “This is my book, not yours!”
He patted her ass. “I’ll be home soon. Don’t get used to staying behind. In the future, you’ll travel with me.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”
He clutched her ass. “Next time I come home, I want you naked
in my bed, got me?”
“Yeah.”
She winced as he let go of her.
“Call Dai. Let me know if you have any questions about the prenup. Do you need anything from me?”
When she shook her head, he tipped her chin up for a deep kiss.
“I’ll be in touch.”
With that, he boarded the elevator. She stood there for several seconds before she pushed all the buzzing questions to the side and checked her phone. There were several updates from Colette who was being kept at the hospital for one more day and several adorable photos of Polara. When breakfast was delivered, she sat at the island, which was fast becoming her favorite place.
The morning passed in a blur as she wrote fast and furious, determined to continue her streak. When she took a break, she checked her email and took care of some business. When she couldn’t put it off any longer, she called Dai.
The phone rang once, and then she heard, “Finally.”
“Dai?”
“I’ve left you at least three voicemails.”
“You did? Why?”
“Why?” Dai echoed dangerously. “You have the nerve to fuck in my shop and then don’t even call me to give me the dirty details? That’s the least you could do, especially since he’s not interested in crazy Chinese chicks.”
She rolled her eyes as she paced around the kitchen. “I have a job for you.”
“Don’t try to distract me! You tell me you’re done with that gorgeous ex of yours and then you fuck him in my dressing room.” Dai took a deep breath and then let it out. “I could come just remembering what he sounded like. I love a man who makes noise. Tell me he’s cut like Brad Pitt in Troy. Or if he isn’t, lie to me. Or better yet, tell me he can’t get enough of you and fucks you all over New York.”
“Dai,” she said sharply. “Snap out of it. I want to talk business.”
“And I want to talk about sex.”
“That wedding gown in the shop, is it the only one you have?”
There was a pause and then, “Shut the fuck up.”
She frowned, pulled the phone away from her ear, and then put it back. “Excuse me?”
“Shut up!”
“I just asked—”