Harlequin Dare May 2021 Box Set

Home > Other > Harlequin Dare May 2021 Box Set > Page 27
Harlequin Dare May 2021 Box Set Page 27

by Jackie Ashenden


  Peony’s companion squeaks and Peony freezes.

  I feel like a villain with a freeze-ray gun. No one’s moving. There’s just a whole lot of eyeballing and side eye happening as my new employees try to figure out how to salvage the situation.

  I do what I do best and take charge. “Ladies.”

  Peony’s head snaps around, her wheeled chair pulling an impressive one-eighty, ponytail smacking her cheek. Her eyes round comically. I’m sure she’s planning how to run out of the room, the same way she ran out of my place three months ago. Unfortunately for her, I’m bigger, meaner, and blocking the exit. I’m also her employer—and her husband.

  The VP dogging my side like a barnacle on a boat’s backside decides now would be an excellent time to interject. “Peony, this is—”

  “Jax Valentine,” she blurts out.

  “Your big bastard boss,” I growl, prowling closer. “Out.”

  Peony bounces out of her seat, almost colliding with her friend, who’s clearly taken my barked ultimatum to heart and is jogging for the door. She can go. I don’t care about her. The VP follows her, and then Peony and I are alone.

  I almost laugh at the look on her face. She’s seriously considering making a run for the door. I shut it and then, for good measure, I lean against it.

  Her gaze flits between my face and the closed door then she makes a face and goes back to her desk. That’s as much concession as she’ll give me.

  “So, you’re a billionaire,” she says brightly, shoving the shit from the top of her desk into an enormous purse. “And a businessman. I’m not sure how this didn’t come up in conversation before, but it’s going to take me some time to process that you’re not a normal person like the rest of us.”

  “Peony.”

  “I’ll email my letter of resignation by the end of the day.” She finishes clearing off the desk. “Or I can send it from the train. If the WiFi is working and I’m not stuck in a tunnel. Either way, you’ll have it and—”

  “Firefly.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You quit too much. You ran out on me. You left a goddamned Post-it note on my kitchen counter. Then you changed your number and moved. I couldn’t get in touch with you.”

  She blinks cautiously. “I didn’t think you’d care. We were just a summer thing. Why would you want to talk with me?”

  What if I am the only one who felt like we had something more than chemistry? What if she really did mean to be done with me?

  Deflect. “I didn’t expect to find you here.” I lean against her desk. The space is small enough that my knees bump hers.

  “So you’re not a superstalker. Good to know.” She taps my knees. “You’re in my personal space, big guy. Pretty sure that’s an HR violation.”

  “Am I doing anything you don’t want me to do, Firefly?”

  Her fingers brush my knees and I want to rip my expensive suit off, carry her down to her desk and fuck her. She just stares at me, stroking her fingers back and forth. She’s gorgeous and here. I told myself I couldn’t chase her. She’d made her wishes clear. But she’s touching me.

  “Peony. I can’t do this.” She jerks her fingers from my knee. “We need to talk.”

  “I don’t particularly want to.”

  “You have two choices.” I lean down, getting into her space, forcing her to look me in the eye. “We talk now or you can meet me after work tonight for dinner.”

  “Pass.”

  “Choose.”

  “Do you have an evil twin?”

  “Pick, or I’ll start our conversation now.”

  “What can you possibly want to talk about?”

  “Our marriage.”

  “That was a game.”

  “No.” I stare at her, not sure how to explain this. “You thought it was. Fuck, I thought it was. But it turns out we’re married for real.”

  “What?”

  “I got a wedding certificate in the mail. It seems that we’re married.”

  Her jaw drops almost comically. “No way.”

  I pull the marriage certificate up on my phone and hold out the device so she can see it for herself. Predictably, she shoots out of her chair, probably headed for Outer Mongolia or Mars. I catch her in my arms, steal her chair, and pull her down onto my lap. I wonder whether she’ll ever willingly stay put with me.

  I must be a closet sadist because I wrap my arms around her when she starts angry-squirming.

  I press my mouth against her ear. “You really want to give me a lap dance right here in the office?”

  She smells so familiar. I missed her.

  “Let me up.” She tugs on my arms. “This is not boss behavior.”

  “It’s not good boss behavior.” I shrug. “But I’m afraid we’ve already blurred those lines.”

  She grumbles something and pries at my arm again. I should let her go—but I can’t.

  “Talk to me first,” I continue. “I don’t trust you not to run away.” Again hangs in the air between us. Tell me what you’ve been doing. Tell me how your sister is.”

  She clears her throat and stares down at my forearm. “Yeah, about that. I lied.”

  “You don’t have a sister?”

  “She wasn’t the reason I left that night.”

  I tuck her against my chest, resting my chin on the top of her head. “Would you like to explain then why you took off and broke up with me via Post-it note?”

  “We weren’t a couple, were we? I mean, not really. We hooked up and then we hung out some but...”

  “Peony.” I growl her name because I missed her but she also drives me nuts. “Let’s circle back to that.”

  “All righty.” She fidgets again.

  “You found a job.” I slide my thumb beneath the edge of her T-shirt, running it over the soft skin. “You’re my librarian.”

  “It seemed like a good opportunity for Peony 2.0. She’s supposed to be settling down.” Her voice is rueful.

  “So you’ve been here ever since you left?”

  “Just about. Yes.”

  I plan to revisit the just about statement later, too. I really, really don’t like the idea of her being broke and unemployed and worried about shit, especially since I have more than enough for the two of us.

  “Do you like your job?”

  “I like organizing stuff and Hotly has some amazing materials, but I’ve heard the new boss likes to trim the fat. I don’t think I’m going to have a job for long.”

  “Show him what you can do,” I suggest. “He doesn’t think with his dick. Promise.”

  “This is so weird.” She sighs, letting go of some of her mad. “How did the whole billionaire thing happen? It’s not a new thing, right? Because even you couldn’t be that scary efficient.”

  “I’ve been in software development for ten years.”

  “I thought you were a surfer who dabbled in code.”

  My relief at finding her safe and happy, even if it’s without me, vanishes. I’ve been so focused on tracking her down, and maybe demanding to know why she left me, that I forgot she didn’t know some of the most important things about me.

  I should have told her, but I don’t lead with Hey baby, I’m a billionaire. That would most definitely make me sound like an asshole, and I generally manage that just fine on my own. So maybe it hadn’t mattered when we met at Liam’s party, but at some point during the summer, I should have told her that I was more than just a software engineer who preferred surfing to coding. My success is part of who I am—a big part—and I deliberately chose not to share that piece of myself with her. I was so scared she’d look at me differently, that she’d see me as the magical money solution to all life’s problems, that my having more money than her would make a difference. And now it has because I wasn’t honest.

  Although, really...who complains because t
heir boyfriend turns out to not be a financial loser?

  This time, when Peony shoves at my legs, I move them. She pops to her feet, of course. The woman won’t sit still. “Are you really a billionaire?”

  “Yeah, although—”

  “And you had all that money when we met? You didn’t, like, win the lottery or something since then? Inherit a small European country with an inbred fortune?”

  “I did and no.” I have more now, but that’s not going to help my case.

  “And now you’ve bought the company I work for, which makes you my boss?”

  “Technically, you don’t report to me.” Granted, this is because I had every intention of firing the librarian until I discovered she was Peony. I don’t share this information, however.

  “You’re totally my boss.” She glares at me, shifting back to anger lightning-fast. “WTF, Jax?”

  “I own the company you work for,” I say calmly. Okay. The calm is a total front, but if both of us start shouting, we’re going to attract an audience.

  “And I have a problem with that,” she stresses.

  She won’t be the only one. I can only imagine what Lake will have to say about this. It is never a good idea to bang your employee, and in light of our maybe-marriage, it will look downright bad unless we decide to get married for real.

  “Why is my not being a broke bastard an issue?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Because you’re not who you said you were. You lied to me!”

  “And you lied right back.” Yes, I’m going to go there. “How’s your sister doing again?”

  “Are we debating whose lie is worse now?” She throws her hands up and stomps over to a row of metal shelving filled with labeled boxes.

  “You ditched me while I was in the shower. You broke up with me by note and you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me the truth. I gave you two days to sulk and then I went looking for you and you had moved out. You totally freaking ghosted me.” I move in for the kill, caging her against the shelves with my arms. There’s no way I’ll let her go a second time. “I’m not the only one who made mistakes.”

  “We were a game,” she snarls, tilting her gorgeous, unhappy face up to mine. “I didn’t know who you really were, and you certainly didn’t know who I was. And now here you are, crashing into my life once again, and everything is wrong.”

  “You can get to know me.”

  “I’m married to my boss,” she snarls.

  Damn straight. I grab her tote bag and rummage through it until I find her phone. Not only am I technically the boss of her, but I’m bigger and I easily ignore her attempts to grab her stuff. She’ll get it back when I’m good and ready. Her phone has migrated to the bottom of the bag, but it’s easy enough to locate because it buzzes incessantly.

  I hold it out to her. “Unlock it.”

  “Not a chance,” she snaps. Unlike everyone else in this building, she’s not scared of me. I like it. I like her.

  Confrontation is something I excel at. It’s also not something I’ve ever gone out of my way to avoid. Right now, however, I want her to agree to give me a chance, and I don’t think that’s something I can fight my way to. So I’ll be nice.

  I capture her hand, press her thumb against her lock screen. I ignore the two thousand texts from people who want to know if she’s okay, if she’s been fired, if the big bad boss has eaten her—not yet—if someone should pull the fire alarm so she has an excuse to get out of here. Instead, I put my phone number in her Contacts.

  “So you can call me,” I tell her. She opens her mouth—probably to give me several very loud reasons why she will never, ever, call me again—and I cut her off. I’m still working on that whole nice thing, after all. “We can get a divorce.” I slide her phone back into her bag. “Or an annulment. I’m not even sure we really are married because neither of us filed for a marriage license or actually meant to end up married. I’ll figure out how to fix this, Peony, but you’re going to have to trust me just a little. And while I’m asking you for shit, I’m just going to say that I might want a shot.”

  She pauses. “What kind of shot?”

  I hoist her up onto a nearby table and step between her legs. I’m not feeling nice. The move’s not polite and it’s definitely not suitable for the workplace. It feels awesome, though. Her legs hug my hips, her crotch pushing against mine.

  “I’m going to date you.” I press my mouth against the corner of hers. I count it as a win that she doesn’t bite. “So well.”

  She eyes me suspiciously. “Is that a dirty joke?”

  “Do you want it to be?”

  “I don’t want to be Hotly’s dirty joke,” she says. “And that’s what I’ll be if you walk around proclaiming me as your Mrs. Valentine. Everyone will think you gave me this job because we’re married and you want in my pants.”

  “I’m insulted you don’t think they’ll attribute the same motives to you.” I run my thumb over her plush lower lip. “Your coworker was willing to jump me.”

  “With company.” Peony makes a face. “Yes, everyone here will think I’m a sucker for a pretty face. And that I’m using you for both your dick and your financial perks. I don’t want everyone talking about us.”

  “And I don’t want to be your dirty little secret.” Now it’s my turn to get mad. “It’s just money, Peony. You’re the one making it out to be such a big deal. Money comes. Sometimes it goes. I’m not going to give it all away to a cat sanctuary just because you don’t like it.”

  Plus, then I’d just make more. I get bored when I have nothing to do.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she states.

  “Then prove it. Spend time with me. Get to know me. I’m more than just my job.”

  That may be a lie, but it’s not one I’m going to cop to. Not right now. I’ve worked my ass off full-time and then some since I was fifteen and I’ve done a lot of shit to claw my way to the top of Silicon Valley. I don’t know who I’d be if I hadn’t done that, and I’m damned sure I’m fairly unlikable. Fortunately, it will take her time to figure this out. My plan is to distract her with sex and spoiling.

  “Give us three months.” I nip her lower lip, drinking in her little gasp. “We’ll get to know each other. If you want to leave when our time is up, I’ll help you do it. If you think my owning Hotly will fuck up your life, I’ll sell it. Fuck, I’ll give it to you.”

  Her mouth drops open and I press my advantage.

  “I’m your husband. I’m allowed to give you presents. I think it’s part of the job description.”

  “You can’t walk around giving people entire companies.” She smacks my chest. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “You’re the one who married a billionaire. This is one of the consequences. I distinctly recall you proposing to me, so this was your idea. You voluntold me to be your husband.

  “I’m just doing what you asked me to do,” I say virtuously.

  “Oh my God,” she groans. “You’re impossible.”

  “Three months.” I kiss her to make my point. “It’ll probably take my lawyers that long to sort out all the legalities anyhow, so you might as well enjoy the perks.”

  “And I suppose you’re a perk?”

  “I’m the biggest perk of them all.”

  “You’re something,” she mutters.

  “Yours,” I say promptly. “Right now, I’m yours. You should enjoy me.”

  “I understand now how you got all that money.”

  “Say yes,” I coax.

  “I just want it noted that this is crazy,” she says. “But okay. Three months. Yes.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Peony

  I BREATHE A little easier when Jax stalks off to go scare my coworkers. He’s intense and he’s a big guy. It’s not that he scares me so much as it is impossible to ignore the aura of power around him.
He’s always been the strong dominant type, but I thought that was just a bedroom thing. Apparently, it’s a billionaire alpha male thing.

  I hooked up with my boss.

  I freaking MARRIED him.

  At least it’s a definite maybe and he’s concerned enough about it to bring it up. I guess I should be glad he didn’t whip out a checkbook—if real people still use those—or sic a bunch of legal sharks on me.

  My mind is busy freaking out, but my body’s doing a stupid, happy hum. He’s my gorgeous, dirty man. So determined. So sweetly rough. He knew exactly how to bring my fantasies to life and I didn’t have to write him an Oscar-worthy script first.

  Amazing sex or no, the obvious thing to do is to get up, quit, and go. Boss dating is the worst and it can only end badly. Sure, I’d like to take him for one more ride, play one more game, but it’s not worth the price I’ll pay. As it is, my phone is blowing up—mostly with texts from Josie, who’s convinced that I’ve either killed our bastard boss—she volunteers to help with the body removal—or that I’m busy tying him up and proving my sexual worth. This is closer to the truth than I care to admit.

  I text her a proof-of-life picture and then I pretend to be very, very busy for the rest of the day. Mostly, this takes the form of furious Google searching about Jax. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to search him before, but it didn’t.

  Jax is not exactly unknown to the internet. Despite—or possibly thanks to—his money and his rough good looks, he’s attracted attention mostly for his hardcore partying and for his otherworldly business acumen. Everything the man touches turns to gold; I’ve apparently married the modern day Midas. He tops the lists of San Francisco’s hottest bachelors and evidently he owns real estate in Hawaii, Napa, and San Francisco. There are as many shots of him dating super-pretty women as there are of him attending various charity functions where he writes large checks. It’s sort of surreal, honestly, and I can’t reconcile that public guy with my beach bum surfer.

  Bottom line? We come from totally different worlds. He’ll go home tonight to some gold-plated bathroom in an expensive piece of real estate, while I’ll take the train—and then two buses and a bike—to the Richmond apartment I rented across the Bay. It’s better than the RV in terms of hot water and roofing, but I miss the ocean.

 

‹ Prev