Tempted: A Standalone Billionaire Boss Romance

by Ava Harrison

  The breath I’ve been holding through this whole exchange is expelled. I know he will be better one day, and I will be here for him throughout that process. Today is a start.

  By the time Carter and I are done talking, we’re the last to arrive at the meeting. All the seats are taken except for two chairs directly in front of the coffee pot. The idea of coffee sounds appealing until I notice the black sludge inside it. The red plastic chair squeaks as the metal hits the concrete floor of the basement. I quietly sit down and try my best not to disturb anyone or call any more unwelcome attention to us.

  The group leader is speaking. His words sound like a faint hum as I turn my head away from him and concentrate on the people surrounding me. Their bleak moods reflect how I used to feel and how Carter probably does feel sitting here. Completely dejected that they lack the strength to stand on their own two feet and need a room full of strangers to keep from using. It’s a sobering reminder of how far I’ve come. I wish I didn’t have to be here, but Carter needs me, and if I’m being honest with myself, the urge has become stronger since starting at the club.

  My fingers nervously tap on the plastic of my seat as I hear my name called. Guess I caught his attention, after all.

  “Bailey, would you like to share anything?”

  Carter squeezes my hand. I stand and focus on the piece of lint by my feet, kicking it around as I find the courage to speak. “Hi, most of you know me, but for anyone who doesn’t, my name is Bailey, and I’m an addict.”

  “Hi, Bailey,” echoes through the room.

  “I’ve been sober for two years. It feels really good to be clean, but some days are harder than others. Some days, I don’t feel the pain at all, and other days, I hurt everywhere, and it feels like only a pill will fix it. I just started a new job, and it comes with a lot of temptation. I remind myself every day how far I have come and how much I have to lose. Even though I sometimes hurt so bad, I remind myself I can’t go back to the person I was before. I did a lot of bad things. I almost died, so I think about how lucky I am to be alive, and that’s enough to help. But I’m afraid one of these days, it won’t be enough.”

  I sit down, my shoulders falling forward with the weight of my confession. Reflecting on my past helps me remember why I need to be here more often. The reminder of the things I did when I was addicted to pain pills will haunt me forever . . . I can’t go back there. I won’t.

  “Thank you for sharing, Bailey. How about you? Feel like talking today?” He directs to Carter.

  My eyes meet his, and I smile, giving him courage. He needs to speak for this meeting to truly work. I watch his eyes twitch and the way his body trembles, and I know how bad he’s itching to use—or run. I feel for him. The memory of those first months of sobriety will always be burned into my mind. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone—especially not my friend.

  “H-Hi,” he stammers. “My name’s Carter.”

  “Hi, Carter,” I say, along with everyone else in the room.

  “Where do I even start?” He smiles, but it’s forced, and eventually, he looks at the ground. “I first started drinking when I was fifteen, and it wasn’t much later that it escalated. My mom . . . she had this boyfriend who used to beat her in front of me. One night, it got bad, and I gave him a taste of his own medicine. Afterward, my mom kicked me out.”

  My stomach turns at Carter’s story. It’s horrifying that a kid had to witness such a thing. Then when he acts to defend his mom, she turns her back on him. Heartbreaking.

  “Anyway,” he continues. “I went to this senior’s party, and that’s the first night I used. I was drunk, but it wasn’t enough. It was only—it was pills to start,” he amends, knowing that pills are the gateway to the harder stuff. “I recently had a rough night, and a friend came to my rescue. I know it’s time for me to get help, so I’m here.”

  When he doesn’t say anything else, Bill, the NA lead, takes things back over.

  “Thanks for sharing, Carter. We’re glad you’re here.”

  I reach my hand over and place it on top of Carter’s in reassurance. I know that was hard for him, and the truth is, I’m proud. The challenging part will be getting him back here and keeping him on the straight and narrow. If he wants the job, he’ll have to make it happen.

  18

  Drew

  Something is going on with Cal.

  I’m not sure what, but the man has basically disappeared. Normally, I’d be happy about that, but right now, I’m anything but.

  The papers for the sale of the property should have been in my hands weeks ago. But they aren’t. We made a deal, and he needs to hold up his end.

  If not having the paperwork isn’t bad enough, the fact the deadbeat is missing in action takes the cake.

  I’ve tried to call.

  Nothing.

  One: He’s too busy to speak to me, which is doubtful. The man is a lazy piece of shit who rides the coattails of his father. If not for his father’s legacy, he’d be broke.

  Two: He’s dead.

  He better hope, for his sake, it’s option two because I’m losing my patience.

  I grab the phone one more time, but I don’t call. Instead, I shoot over a text.

  Drew: What’s taking so long with the papers?

  I place my cell back down on the counter, not expecting an answer. I’m pleasantly surprised when a second later, it pings. I’m even more surprised when I see it is, in fact, Cal’s worthless ass.

  Cal: There was a little hiccup, but don’t worry, everything is okay.

  Finally, a damn response. Not that it does much to ease my worry. What fucking hiccups could he have run into? His word that everything is okay doesn’t settle my unease.

  Drew: What hiccup?

  Cal: It was more of a personal hiccup. It’s all good.

  Hopefully, Harper got smart and tossed his ass out.

  Drew: You better hope it’s only personal. Did everyone at the holding company agree to the sale?

  Cal: . . .

  I see the dots, signaling he’s typing. They start and then they stop. Not good. What I want to fucking see is that everyone’s on board. The length of time it’s taking to say something so damn simple is alarming.

  Drew: Make this happen, Cal. If not, you’ll be making room in that swanky apartment of yours for your future sister-in-law.

  I threaten Bailey’s job, but I’d never follow through with it. The job might’ve been offered to her because of Cal, but not anymore. Regardless of this acquisition, Bailey’s position is safe. I’d never doom her to that fate.

  Cal: I told you. It’s fine. I’ll be in touch.

  With that settled, I put my phone down and pull out the stack of proposals from all the architects competing for the job. It feels like hours go by as I sort through the overpriced bids, finally settling on one. It’s not the cheapest, but I believe it’s the best option.

  I ring the winner, checking one thing off my list.

  Thirty minutes later, the alarm chimes, signaling someone’s here. I make my way downstairs to see who’s in my club and stop short when I see Bailey, leaning over the bar, laughing at something on the floor on the other side.

  This might be the first time I’ve seen her so carefree and laid-back. It’s a sight to behold. At this moment, no ghosts from the past linger in the shadows. It’s simply Bailey. Beautiful, relaxed Bailey. I’m fucked.

  “Hurry up. I’m running late,” she calls to who I can only assume is Carter on the other side.

  “I can’t find it,” his voice calls back, confirming it’s, in fact, Carter.

  His head pops up with a goofy grin plastered across his face, and I want to smack it off. Why does he make her like this? What’s so damn special about Carter Cass that every fucking woman in New York caves at his smile? More importantly, why do I fucking care?

  “I’m going to check in the back. I probably left it in the stockroom. Be back.”

  “Hurry your ass up,” she calls, laughing all the wh
ile.

  I could sit here in the shadows and watch the woman driving me crazy.

  Without a second thought, I step up behind her. I must startle her because she steps back and squeaks when her body becomes flush against my chest. “What are you doing here, Bailey?”

  She slowly turns so that we’re face-to-face. Her cheeks are stained pink, and her lips are parted. Her tongue darts out, tracing a line across her bottom lip. It’s nothing like the way Monica would do such things to elicit a reaction from men. This is innocent. All Bailey.

  Our gaze is locked. We’re so close I can practically feel her breath.

  There is an electric energy coursing between us. A current I can’t comprehend. I want to cross the distance, but I know I shouldn’t.

  I can’t go there with her.

  “Drew . . . I—” She shakes her head as if to pull herself together. “I’m here with Carter. He left his tip bag here, and we’re heading out to shop. I still need to get my dress.” She lowers her head as if embarrassed.

  Before I know what I’m doing, my hand goes to her chin, and I tilt her head so she’s looking into my eyes. She inhales, biting her lip.

  I take a step closer so that our mouths are mere inches apart. It would be so easy to touch her, to kiss her right now, but I know I can’t, so I take a step back, putting much-needed distance between us.

  Bailey’s eyes remain wide, and she doesn’t stop staring at me. She’s flustered and worked up.

  So am I.

  But I’m doing the right thing for both of us.

  “Ready, Bae?” Carter says, coming around the corner, stopping when he sees us in our stare off. “Um . . . everything okay?”

  Never taking my eyes off Bailey, I say, “Have fun shopping.”

  With that, I turn and walk back to my office, adjusting myself the entire way.

  Whatever the fuck that was, I’ll need a cold-ass shower if I want to get anything accomplished the rest of the day. Bailey is doing things to me that nobody has in a very long time, simply by being in the same room as me. I’m not sure this arrangement is a good idea, but fuck if I’m going to change anything.

  19

  Bailey

  My body is still quaking from Drew’s proximity earlier. The intense stare, the way he looked at me . . . I’ve never in my life wanted to kiss someone so badly. And that scares the hell out of me for so many reasons. I’m lost in thought, fingering the money Drew had given me earlier, when Carter’s voice breaks through my wayward thoughts.

  “He gave you how much for the dress?”

  I quickly count the wad of cash and quickly count again because there’s no way I counted correctly. Yet . . . I did.

  “Two thousand,” I say, stupefied. “He didn’t count it.”

  “Because he doesn’t have to.” Carter rolls his eyes. “The man’s loaded.”

  “Yeah, how did he come into so much money?”

  Carter shrugs. “I’ve heard rumors, but who knows?”

  “What were the rumors?” I press, wanting to know everything about Drew Lawson, despite my better judgment.

  “There have been so many contradicting stories that I don’t know what’s actually true,” he admits. “I’ve heard he comes from money. Then there was the rumor that he was a pimp.” He raises his hand. “Oh, and then there was the rumor that he works with the cartel. I don’t believe that one, though.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “He’s so adamantly against drug use, and there isn’t an easy way to stop working with the cartel. If he was and quit, he’d be dead. If he were still working with them, drugs would be circulating through Silver more than the drinks we serve. There’s no way the cartel wouldn’t be using the club to run their drugs.”

  I couldn’t disagree there. Drew was definitely against drug usage, given how hard I had to work to get Carter his new job. If only he knew about my past.

  And knowing plenty of drug dealers, if they owned a club, they would undoubtedly be using that high-end clientele to push their stash. Silver would be a hotbed for designer drugs. Drew could be lining his pockets, but he wasn’t. I was sure of that. So, what does that leave? Pimp? I mean, the man is fifty shades of sexy. He could probably talk a girl into doing an assortment of things for him. That’s why he’s dangerous.

  “Regardless, the man works his ass off now. His fortune, at this point, has been more than earned. Drew is a workaholic,” Carter supplies, pulling me out of my wayward thoughts. “So, where is he taking you?”

  “I have no clue. He just said it was another restaurant he was looking to buy, and that I’d need a cocktail dress.”

  Carter eyes me up and down. “I know just the place. My ex used to drag me there all the time.”

  An hour later, I’m standing in front of a floor-length mirror wearing the most beautiful dress I’ve worn to date. With a high neckline and cap sleeves, the dress is equal parts sexy and modest. The lace overlay works throughout the dress, giving it a bold texture that my fingers can’t stop running over. The skirt has a column silhouette and finishes with a modest hem that brings attention to my toned and tanned legs.

  “Stunning,” Carter muses, scratching his chin with his hand. “Drew is going to eat you alive in that dress.”

  My mouth drops open, and I glare at him through the mirror.

  “I’m not trying to draw Drew’s attention. It’s just a dress. I’m dressing up,” I mutter, just managing to repeat myself like an idiot.

  “Riiiiight,” he draws out. “And that must be why your cheeks are ten shades of red right now.” He chuckles.

  “Ass,” I mumble. “But seriously, I want to impress him but only in a professional manner. I don’t have any interest in being one of his conquests.”

  He purses his lips. “You might have all the intentions in the world of keeping things professional, but Drew doesn’t have that same goal, Bailey. You have to know that by now.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “He’s been asking about you and your past. Given the way he’s been acting around you, he’s aiming for something. I’ve known him for a long time, and he’s not asking because he thinks you’re a killer waitress.”

  I frown, and he quickly jumps in.

  “I’m not saying you’re not, Bae. I’m just saying to him, waitresses are a dime a dozen. The guy has stacks of résumés a mile high, most having more experience than either of us have, combined.”

  “Great, so I’m another floozy he’s trying to bone.”

  Carter grunts. “You’re no floozy, and I don’t think that’s what’s happening here.” He sighs. “Listen, as I said, I’ve known Drew for a long time. For some reason, he really wants to help you, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because he’s interested in you, or maybe it’s something else . . .” He trails off, blowing out a hard breath and running a hand through his thick hair.

  “So why is he going to so much effort?”

  He levels me with a come on, you’re smarter than that expression.

  “It’s obvious he wants to help you, Bailey. Maybe it’s because you remind him of his own past? I’m not sure.”

  I huff. “Great, so I’m a damn charity case.”

  “Do you want to be more?” he asks, raising a questioning brow.

  “Well . . . no, but—”

  “Then take the help and don’t look a gift horse in the horseshoe.”

  “It’s don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “That’s dumb. I’m changing it.”

  I laugh because only Carter can manage to turn an awkward conversation to giggles.

  “So take his help,” I say, looking at myself once more in the mirror.

  “Damn straight.”

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Since Drew picked me up, he hasn’t stopped staring. And as a result, I can’t stop fidgeting. My cheeks are warm, and my knees wobbly. The three-inch stilettos that Carter insisted on aren’t helping. Serves me right for taking fashion adv
ice from a man who clearly only dates Barbies.

  Drew and I are being ushered through a dimly lit, swanky Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side, right down the street from the brunch place. This place screams three-star Michelin, and I feel out of place even in this exceptional dress.

  As if he read my mind, he lowers his lips to my ear, and whispers, “You look incredible.”

  I shiver. Whether from his words or his touch, I haven’t a clue. Maybe it’s the ambiance of the place. Romantic above reason. Or maybe it’s all the thoughts roaming my brain this afternoon.

  When I went to the beauty bar and the woman fixed my hair and makeup, Carter’s words played on a loop.

  Drew wants to help you. He cares.

  But why?

  Why is he hell-bent on it?

  Does he have a savior complex?

  Is it what Carter said? Is it because I remind him of his own twisted past?

  Is he righting a wrong with me?

  Or is it something else?

  That last part is my mind’s way of toying with me. Drew is not good for me. Especially with my tendency to get hooked.

  But I can’t deny I’m attracted to him.

  I can’t deny that the attention he gives me makes me weak in the knees. He’s the guy a girl could easily fall in love with. Add in that devilish grin that turns me to mush and . . . fuck.

  He’s already pulled me under his spell.

  “Bailey,” Drew calls from across the table.

  We’ve been sitting here for who knows how long. My mind has been elsewhere for the greater part of the past few minutes. Everything he’s said is completely lost on me.

  “Hmm?” I murmur, reluctantly bringing my eyes to meet his.

  I don’t want to look at him. The truth is, I’m not sure if this pull I’m feeling is the real deal or yet another symptom of my addictive personality. Am I lusting after him for the right reasons? Or am I concocting falsities in my head based on something another addict has said? I hate that my mind categorizes Carter as such, but it’s the truth. I have to be careful not to allow others to get into my head.