by Ava Harrison
“What’s with the face?” Carter asks, grinning ear to ear.
“What face?”
“The one in which you look like you ate something sour.”
“I did,” I lie.
“Right. Since you broke things off with Drew, I guess you would be pissed he’s moved on so quick.”
“What?” I snap. “I didn’t break off anything. There was nothing to break.”
“Bae. I know you weren’t behind that bar the other day because of your humanitarian activism. Plus, half the block could hear you two.”
I cover my eyes with my hands, groaning. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Girl, I don’t care what it was like. You sounded very happy to be right where you were.”
My head lolls back on my shoulders. “I’m trying to forget.”
“Why?” he asks, looking horrified. “That man is not someone you forget.”
I hate Carter. Why the hell does he need to talk about this now when I’m trying my hardest to forget and move on.
“Listen,” he says conspiratorially. “Give him a taste of his own medicine. No way is he going to like it if you seem unaffected. Look at nine o’clock,” he says, motioning with his head toward two guys sitting at the side of the bar. “Blondie is the opposite of Drew but still fine as hell. Go flirt it up.”
“I don’t want to play games, Carter. I’m here to work.”
“Fine.” He shrugs. “Let Drew win.”
My eyes catch on Drew, whose hand is on the model’s lower back. It might make me childish, but I won’t let him get to me. What’s the harm in flirting it up with a cute guy at the bar? You’re playing with fire.
For the better part of an hour, I flirt shamelessly with the blond at the bar. At some point, I forget why because I’m enjoying myself. No part of me wants things to go anywhere with this stranger, but it’s just nice to be seen. Scott—at least I think that’s his name—owns a car dealership in the ’burbs. He’s in town visiting his friend who works on Wall Street. They’re having drinks at Silver because they’ve heard so much about the place. First-timers who clearly have connections.
“Bailey,” Scott calls out, gaining my attention. I smile wide, playing up the interested card.
“I’d like to see you again,” he says, placing his card on the bar top and sliding it toward me. I smile wider.
Over Scott’s shoulder, I see Drew approaching. He’s shooting daggers at me, and internally, I celebrate that he’s witnessed the exchange.
“Gentlemen,” Drew says, slapping the dark-haired friend of Rob’s on the back in a friendly manner. “Glad to see you made it.”
“Thanks for the in,” the one with dark hair says. “This place is great, and the service has been top-notch.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Glenn. Listen, I need to borrow Bailey for a moment, but Carter will take care of you in her absence.”
They shake hands, and he motions with his head for me to make my way to his office. What the hell? I was just doing my job. Carter makes mad money by entertaining the bar patrons. I wasn’t doing anything different. He doesn’t get to hound me when he has a model on his arm.
We make it to his office, and he slams the door behind us, whirling around and bearing down on me.
“What are you doing?” he snarls.
“I don’t know what you mean?” I play coy.
“Oh, you don’t? Do you?”
“No.”
“What did you say?” He pulls me toward him, his arms wrapping around my torso.
My breath hitches.
“I asked you a question,” he growls. “You tell me nothing can happen between us, and then you practically throw yourself at someone else in my bar?”
My hands fly up. “First of all, I didn’t throw myself at him. Secondly, you don’t get to decide who or what I do, Drew. I didn’t say I don’t want you. I said it wasn’t a good idea. You’re my boss.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“I do!” I yell. “This is the first chance I have at making something of myself, and no matter how much I love the way you make me feel, I can’t take that risk.”
“You’re being dramatic,” he says flippantly. “I would never fire you just because whatever this is ends. I’m a lot of things, Bailey, but I’m not a bastard. I know how much this job means to you.”
“Tell me how we could have a sex-only relationship?”
“We’re adults, Bailey. It’s that simple.”
“It’s not for me,” I stress. “I can’t promise to shut off my feelings.”
“Is that so? You’d walk away out of fear?” His voice is vacant of all warmth.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Drew.” I watch as he takes deep, shallow breaths, a cold knot forming in my stomach.
Fuck.
He seems pissed at my answer, and I think I see hurt there too.
I know I shouldn’t care. That I should just walk away while I still have the chance. Yet I can’t help but want to comfort him, help heal the pain behind those dark, endless eyes. I know what it’s like to be that lost, and maybe, just maybe, I might help him find peace, if only for a minute.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
“Just leave,” he snaps. My pulse begins to beat erratically as I step closer to him. My hand reaches for his, my fingers trembling as I make contact.
“I said leave, Bailey.” A tense silence fills the room.
I contemplate everything he’s said and done. He’s as broken as I am. I don’t know why, but I can see it as plain as day. Maybe two broken people can heal each other? Could he be right? Am I turning my back out of fear? I’m no coward.
“No,” I finally say, my voice firm.
“First, you say no because you want to leave. Now you say no because you don’t. Make up your fucking mind, little girl. Because if you stay”—he grabs me roughly by the waist—“I’m fucking you, hard.”
I feel like my breath is cut off, my mind fluttering around in a million directions. Against my better judgment, I want to submit to him. I want to be what he needs, and if this is what he desires, then I can’t help but want to give it to him. I lift my hand and lightly stroke his jaw. His body stills, his eyes narrowing.
“Bend over, Bailey.” His words come out thick and hoarse, and the rich timbre sends a chill down my spine. “Hold the desk.” I walk toward it. With each step I take, I shimmy my panties off. When I finally place my hand on his desk, I’m fully exposed, the cold air hitting my core.
Peeking over my shoulder, I see him standing there stoically, and a tingling in the pit of my stomach forms. A delightful shiver of desire runs through me.
His pupils dilate, sending an electric flare of heat through my body. Stepping toward me, he quickly unzips his fly and begins stroking his length slowly.
Painfully slow.
Deliberately teasing me.
His other hand reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth and running it down his thick length.
“Turn your head back toward the wall,” he commands, and I do, my vision focusing on the painting hanging above his desk. The slow torture of waiting for him to touch me makes me dizzy, and I try to concentrate on something else. Anything to stop my heart from thrumming so hard that I think it might implode. Just when I think I can’t take another second of waiting, he grabs my hips so tight I’m sure there will be a bruise there tomorrow. A moan escapes my lips, and I bite down to silence myself.
“No need to fight it. No one will hear you over the bass,” he growls out, his lips teasing the curve of my ear. He slides against my core before entering me roughly. Drew thrusts in and out, barely allowing me to adjust to him. The pace speeds up, drawing a moan from my lips.
“I fucking love the sounds you make. Tell me you want more. Tell me, Bailey.”
I moan once more. “God, yes, I want more. Please,” I beg, raising my hips to meet him thrust for thrust. His strokes are hard and deep as he rea
ches around me and starts stroking me, causing me to spasm around him. My release comes quickly after. He pushes forward a few more times before his body collapses onto my back. Fully sated, we simultaneously sigh.
I peer around my shoulder, and his eyes are shut as his breathing calms. As he opens them, his eyes find mine, slanting slightly as he takes me in. But it’s not Drew staring back at me, it’s Jet.
Memories from the past assault me, and Jet is in the lead, always hurting me.
“Fuck, Bailey. Did I hurt you?” he asks as he examines my bare hips.
“I’m okay.” My voice is only a whisper, suddenly feeling sick. Drew didn’t do anything wrong, but my mind is messing with me.
“Fuck,” he mumbles again as he pulls out of me and readjusts himself. He moves away, disposing of the evidence of what we just did.
“I—Here, let me help you.” His hand reaches for mine, and he helps pull me upright. “Listen, I’m sorr—”
I cut him off, shaking my head. “No need.” I can’t take his apology right now. It’s not him. I’m the one continuing to allow the past to rule my present.
“It’s not you—”
“Please, don’t.”
Tears of shame threaten to expel. I need to get out of here before he sees me fall apart.
29
Drew
It’s been three days since Bailey was last here. She ran out of my office like she was on fire. I know I screwed up by being rough, but I thought she wanted it. She was practically begging me to fuck her. Carter told me that she called in the past three days because she’s sick, but I’m not buying it.
As I look through tonight’s list of VIPs, my head starts to pound. I’ve never cared about how things were left with any girl, but something about my last time with Bailey doesn’t sit right with me. I’m sitting here contemplating sending her flowers when my phone rings.
“Drew Lawson.”
“Hi, Mr. Lawson. My name is Amanda Canelli, and I’m calling from Andrew Kors’s office. He asked me to reach out to you because we have been interviewing a potential candidate currently employed by you. Mr. Kors is ready to extend an offer of employment, but he wanted to give you a courtesy call before he does.”
Andrew Kors and my father have been business associates for a long time. I appreciate his reaching out, but there isn’t an employee in this club I would be sad to lose to him. This is a steppingstone. It shouldn’t be a lifetime career.
“Hi, Amanda. Thanks for the heads-up. Please tell Andrew I appreciate the call, but he’s free to hire anyone he pleases.” I’m bored with the conversation and I need to get shit done.
“Thank you, Mr. Lawson. We believe Miss Jameson will be a great fit for us here.”
That name is a punch to the gut. Immediately, I’m pissed. It might have just been sex, but her attitude is bullshit.
“You know, on second thought, Amanda, I don’t know if Bailey would be a good fit after all. She is notoriously late to work, and her performance has been subpar to say the least.” I’m going too far, but I can’t help it. I’ve never played fair.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. She seemed like such a great candidate. I will relay this information to Mr. Kors. Thank you for the heads-up. Have a nice day, Mr. Lawson.”
“You too, Amanda. Good luck in your search.” At that, I push end, and the line goes silent.
I’m not letting her off this easy.
When I pull up to Bailey’s apartment, I’m angrier than I was before. I can’t fathom why she’d want to trade the promotion I’ve offered her for some low-paying runner job. Does she really want to be a coffee girl for some overpaid middle-aged executive? I know what they’re hiring for. It wasn’t hard to find the job listing. I’m not going at her half-cocked. Fuck that.
I stalk up to her door, banging without consideration to whom I may be disturbing. I hear shuffling on the other side of this paper-thin door before it opens. Bailey stands there with a look of shock on her face.
“Drew. What are you doing here?”
I push past her and walk right into her apartment. Going straight to her couch, I make myself at home and sit.
“Have a seat,” she groans in irritation.
“Well, since you decided to call out ‘sick,’” I say with air quotes, “I decided to come call you on your bullshit. You’ll never guess, Bailey. I got a call today about a reference for you. The funny thing is, I don’t remember receiving a two-week notice.” I’m trying really hard not to lose my cool, but I’m failing miserably. With each word I speak, my voice gets louder and more furious.
“Drew, please. Just calm down. I don’t need you making a scene.”
“Fuck, Bailey. You said you wouldn’t run. Then the next thing I know, you’re doing just that. Running out of my office and calling out sick. Then I find out you’re leaving through someone else.”
“Drew, I have to.” Her voice is low.
“The fuck you do. What you need is to grow up, Bailey. You need to be mature and talk to people about what’s going on. I told you no more running, and here we are again.”
“I can’t,” she snaps, raising her voice. “I can’t, Drew. There are some things I just can’t talk about.”
“Like what? Did I hurt you? Did I make you feel bad? Because I have to tell you, Bailey, it sure the fuck looked like you were enjoying everything I was giving.”
“You didn’t hurt me, and I did enjoy it. Then when it was over, it felt too much like my past.”
I feel sick at her words.
At the missing pieces of the puzzle of what she went through.
Her hands are shaking, and she’s trying hard to hide it by wringing them together.
“Come here. Come sit down and talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
She looks my way, contemplating what I’m suggesting. Finally, she makes her way to the love seat and takes a seat across from me. Then Bailey starts to cry. I’m baffled and completely caught off guard. I am in no way prepared to handle this.
“I’m pretty sure you already know from the outburst with my sister that night, but I’m an addict. A recovering one, but an addict, nonetheless.”
I know this, and so much more, but I school my features. I’m finally getting her to open up to me for a change, and I won’t fuck that up. “Go on,” I prompt.
“I’ve been sober for two years. When I was younger, my father died. I started drinking back then, but—” A tear rolls down her face. I reach my hand out and swipe it.
“It’s okay, Bailey, if you don’t want to talk about it.” As much as I want to hear the next part, I don’t. The pain in my chest intensifies with each piece of the puzzle that falls into place.
“One night, there was an accident. I lost someone else. First my dad, and then my best friend, Emily. That’s when I started to take the pills.” She looks off into the empty space beside me, lost in the memory. Her hand touches her arm, absently rubbing it. “It got bad after that. Really bad. I got clean eventually, but it’s a constant struggle, and the club is just a horrible temptation. I can’t go back to those days, Drew. Lately, I feel like I’ve been drowning. Then there’s you and me and whatever we’ve been doing, and it’s like I’m one step away from relapsing.”
I listen to what she’s saying, and I can’t help but remember the days when I too struggled with the need to lose myself in booze. Losing Alexa was what finally made me realize I needed to make a change. I was the lucky one. I was able to walk away with my life, even if I’m haunted by the ghosts of my past. Bailey making them rise to the surface.
“Bailey, I’m sorry.”
“Oh my god, Drew, it’s not your fault. You’ve given me hope.”
A sob escapes her throat, and it’s my undoing. I jump up from the couch and grab her in my arms, holding her while she cries into my shoulder. Stroking her hair and telling her it’s all right has me realizing how strange this situation is.
I grab her shoulders and bring her to
look at me. Tipping her chin up with my right hand, I force her to look into my eyes. “I’ll help you, Bailey. Whatever you need. If you have to get another job, I’ll help you. Please let me help you.”
Her eyes are so bright. She searches my face, and I see the moment her entire body relaxes. The moment she decides to put her trust in me. It’s an aphrodisiac. The urge to kiss her has never been greater.
So I do.
30
Bailey
His gaze sears me. He’s telling the truth. I might not really know Drew Lawson that well, but looking into those eyes right now, I know he would do anything to help me.
My shoulders slump forward, and the tension leaves my body. I lean against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and it further relaxes me. I run my hand down his firm chest, and his heart beats faster. Pulling back, we lock eyes. The lust is evident, but there is something else. Something breaking through the lust and morphing into a haunted stare. I’ve seen that look before, but not in him . . .
In me.
My eyebrow rises slightly. I need to know why he wants to help me so bad. It’s clear that there’s more to his offer, and it has me on edge.
“Why, Drew?” My voice quakes. I know I don’t have the right to ask, but I can’t help but want to know more about this man who, beneath his tough and indifferent exterior, would do anything to keep me safe. “Why do you want to help me so bad?”
“I—”
A look of regret and loathing crosses his face. It’s enough for me to wish I hadn’t asked after all. I lift my hand to stop him from speaking. “Forget it. You don’t need to tell me. I’m sorry.” I turn my head down and look away, staring at my hands resting in my lap. Staring at anything to stop me from looking at him.
Warm fingers slowly caress my jaw, turning my face upward to meet his. “Things weren’t always the way they are now at Silver. Actually, it wasn’t even called that in the beginning. I was a very different man from who I am now.” He blows out a harsh breath. “Before you ask, yes, I was just as much of an asshole.” He laughs, but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes. I can tell it’s forced and fake. “Back then, I dated a girl named Alexa. She was adventurous and beautiful . . . she had the world in the palm of her hands. She could’ve been anything.” He closes his eyes, pain etched in the creases in the corner of his eyes. When he opens them, the pain is even more evident. “She—died. I lost her.” I swallow the lump in my throat at that knowledge. Looking at me with conviction, he goes on. “I will help you.”