Dirty Rich Obsession

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “I don’t need luck. I need to be good on my word.” He changes the subject. “You heard the conversation between myself and my brother.”

  It’s not a question and I don’t play coy. “Yes.”

  “Then you heard me tell him to stay away from you.”

  “Loud and clear,” I assure him.

  He arches a brow. “You aren’t going to ask why?”

  “You want to own me,” I say. “Which means I know why.”

  His hand snakes out and snags my hip, jolting me with the unexpected impact as he drags me to him. “I do own you,” he says. “Until the profit I’ve promised the board is delivered, I don’t want you distracted.”

  My hand is somehow now firmly planted on his even firmer chest; my legs pressed intimately to his. “And you don’t think touching me like this a distraction?” I challenge.

  “It is a distraction. One we can fuck right out of our systems and then it’s over.”

  “Or you decide you really do own me and I’m not taking that risk.”

  “Better safe than sorry, right?”

  “Better stop while you’re ahead.”

  “And yet neither of us are ahead now.” He surprises me by allowing his hands to fall away, a silent invitation to stay pressed intimately to his hard, perfect body, or move away.

  It takes all that I am, but I step backward. I’ve barely recovered from his touch and the chill I now feel blasting off the water, which didn’t seem to be there moments ago, when he offers me an envelope. “What is this?” I ask, reaching for his offering, but he holds onto it, those blue eyes burning into mine.

  “I never make a promise I don’t keep, good or bad.” He releases his grip. “Remember that,” he adds, and then he just walks away.

  Chapter Twelve

  Carrie

  The envelope in my hand scorches me the way the man who handed it to me does as well.

  I watch Reid disappear around the corner, the path between my apartment and his, a well-frequented community area that runs along the beach, lined with buildings, most of which have outdoor restaurants, and all of which offer ocean views. I will not open this envelope where I might be seen. Therefore, only when Reid is out of sight do I rush into the building and make my way to the elevator, punching my floor. Once the doors shut, I stare down at the envelope, but I don’t open it. I dread opening it and while I’m not one to avoid or hide from trouble, the biggest, cruelest way, Reid could punish me for those cuffs would be to build me up and then push me right back down. To give what he’d taken and then take it away. I don’t want to believe that’s who he is, but he learned from Jean Claude Laurette a man nicknamed “The Beast of Wall Street.”

  And so, I watch the floors tick by, which is quick since I live on the third floor and for a reason. It was cheaper. It’s what my first three bonus checks with the company allowed me to buy and three seemed a lucky combination. I thought it was and yet I’ve now put my place up for sale. Just the thought knots my belly, but it’s the right move. It’s what I need to do before I get in over my head.

  The elevator dings and it’s only seconds later when I exit the car, walking left and sticking my key into the lock of my first home purchase, wondering if I will ever feel secure enough to buy in a building in Battery Park ever again. Shoving aside that negativity, I enter my little place, its dark hardwoods beneath my feet, and toss my keys on the table to my right. I walk down the hallway and through my living room without dwelling on the three oval windows that line the front wall that I completely adore, and the realtor assures me will help the place sell quickly, even despite the fact that my view is of the walkway, rather than the water, and the apartment is small with a rather compact kitchen to my left. It’s a beautiful space and location.

  I head up the stairs and into my bedroom, the only other room in the apartment, and set my purse on the teal-covered bed. I then walk to the lounge chair in the same color, which is by a drape-covered window, kick off my shoes, and stare at the envelope with dread in my belly. It’s possible that Reid wanted me to say good things about him to the staff before he gave me my walking papers. I know this, though I don’t think that’s something Reid would do in such a cowardly way. He’s hard, arrogant, and impossible, but not a coward. I seem to be, though, since I haven’t opened the stupid thing.

  I rip the seal and quickly scan the document inside. It’s a promise to double my pay at the six-month mark from the date of the takeover, in a lump sum. Part of me revels in this promise he has kept. The other part fears that he knows my demise will eventually be confirmed. Of course, this idea assumes he has a heart. Does he? I go back to the case he took for free, for the families of murder victims and the word “save.” He chooses takeovers that save everyone involved. If he does have a beating heart in his chest, is this payment his way of ensuring I leave with more, not less, but I still leave?

  My stomach knots all over. I need to know. Straight up. Head on. Tell me how it is. I stand up and walk to the bed, grab my phone and return to the chair where I snuggle back down, ready to take whatever is thrown my way. I don’t hesitate. I dial Reid. “Decide you want to be owned tonight?” he asks, answering on the first ring.

  “Reid,” I say softly, skipping all the games.

  He knows what I want immediately. “It’s a testament to my confidence in you,” he promises. “Don’t read more into it. I say what I mean. I do what I say.”

  “But the board doesn’t believe in me.”

  “They will,” he says.

  “That’s a no. They do not.”

  “Did you find the card inside the envelope?”

  “I didn’t see it. Hold on.” I dig for it and find his business card. I flip it over to find the words: Call-in number, stockholders’ meeting, nine am. “You’re letting me listen in on the meeting in real time?”

  “Yes. I am. It won’t be easy to hear what is said about your father.”

  “I’m not in denial over my father,” I say. “I can handle it.” I soften my voice. “Thank you, Reid.”

  He’s silent several beats and I almost think he’s hung up when he speaks. “The case I’m managing, with the murder victims’ families. The brother of one of the victims attacked my client’s wife. He was under mental evaluation. We were supposed to be told before he was released. We weren’t, and he went after her again.”

  “Oh God. Is she okay?”

  “Yes, but I’m going to need to deal with this after the stockholders’ meeting tomorrow.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Take a piece of the DA’s ass. I think he did this on purpose, just to show us who has control, and it backfired when the guy came back at my client.”

  “But you’re not a good guy taking care of people who need you for free, right?” I tease.

  His response is hard and fast. “No, Carrie. I am not a good guy. Don’t forget that either.” He hangs up. It’s a real Reid move. I get it. He doesn’t want a thank you and me looking beneath his skin. He doesn’t even care about me and his brother. He just doesn’t want me distracted. In fact, his need to own me and my focus is probably why he gave me that money. Now I don’t have to worry about finding another job, in case this one ends. In other words, this is his way of reminding me that he might want to fuck me, he might need me for financial reasons, but he doesn’t really like me, and he doesn’t even want me to like him.

  ***

  I wake up the next morning in a ball of nerves over the stockholders’ meeting. I run five miles in the park and still manage to be at work an hour before the rest of the staff and dressed in a red power statement suit dress. I even have time to pick up scones and set one on Sallie’s desk with a note on the bag that reads: Now you have to make me some of your butterscotch cookies, because I love those cookies and because she loves that I love them. By eight-forty, I’m well caffeinated and nervous about the stockholders’ meeting.

  Sallie buzzes my office. “Connie is on the line. She’s Reid’
s secretary. And FYI, she is setup with security clearance.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  The line buzzes and I answer. “Hi, Connie.”

  “Hi, Carrie. Looking forward to meeting you soon.”

  “I thought you were coming here today?”

  “Reid meant after the stockholders’ meeting, which we’re hosting, which I know because I have learned to decode his meanings over the past ten years. So that most likely means tomorrow. Aside from that, I just wanted to tell you that if you have any trouble dialing into the meeting, call me. Sallie has all my contact numbers.”

  “Oh. Great. Thank you.”

  “Thank you. There is a novel combination of words. Perhaps together we can teach them to Reid. No. Never mind. We’ll just get drunk together at some point.” Reid’s voice sounds in the background. “Speaking of the beast. Gotta go. Bye, Carrie.” She hangs up.

  I like her. I like her a lot. Sallie pokes her head in the door, giving me a thumbs-up that means she likes her, too. And she’s been with cranky, mean Reid for ten years? I shove aside that thought for later reference and ten minutes later I dial into the meeting, though no one in the room knows who is on the closed line.

  Reid calls the meeting to order and he cuts right to the chase. “As you all know at this point, I’m now partnering with Carrie West to reach our profit projections.”

  Partnering.

  It’s not a word I expect him to use.

  There are several questions about me that follow and Reid shuts them down. “I don’t waste my time or money, or yours. Carrie is not her father. She was against the bad decisions that were made, which are documented in each case. She’s CEO material: smart, sharp, embraced by the staff and the backbone of the profits for the corporation. I expect to recommend a power shift from me to her in the next thirty days.”

  There’s debate and talk of that timeline being too fast, but Reid is strong in each turn that is taken. Once they get past talking about me, the talks turn to financials, future projects, strategies, overhead, and the list goes on. I take detailed notes on my open computer. During lags in the meat of the meeting, I type out my rebuttals to each question, comment and statement I feel deserves them.

  It’s a full two hours later when the meeting ends and I resist the urge to text a thank you to Reid. He made it clear last night that he doesn’t want that from me. Instead, I quickly finish typing my notes and email them to Reid, when my cellphone rings with Reid’s number.

  “Hello,” I answer quickly.

  “Get me answers to every question in that meeting,” he says without preamble. “I need your point-of-view to compare to mine before I head into a lunch meeting.”

  “Already in your mail.”

  “I need details, Carrie.”

  “I typed as I listened and perfected when I was done. You have what you need.”

  He’s silent two beats. “I’ll be into the office by five. Plan for a later night.” He hangs up in full asshole mode again, which worries me.

  Just how much pressure is he getting outside the boardroom and on what? Me? Is that why he wants my notes? Are the board members rejecting me even as I sit here and push Reid to the point of no return? I think of exactly what that man wants me to think about; him between my legs. And from there, I can almost feel his big body crowding me against his door or some wall. He keeps touching me. He keeps pushing every female button I possess. And maybe that’s the point. It’s not the board that’s the real issue. It’s Reid who wants to push me to the point of no return, but to what end?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carrie

  I don’t hear from Reid for the rest of the day, but right before I expect him to arrive, Sallie pokes her head into my office. “I’m about to leave, but your father is on the line.”

  “Put him through and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’m bringing cookies,” she says with a smile, then disappears, and I hope she brings a ton because I’m a really good stress eater.

  The line buzzes, and dread fills my belly, which I shouldn’t feel over my father’s call, of all people, but I do. “Hey, dad,” I answer.

  “I just read the transcript from the stockholders’ meeting,” he says, without his normal preamble. “They’re never going to accept you.”

  His words punch me in the chest. “Thanks for the confidence, dad.”

  “This isn’t about you. That’s the point. You don’t deserve to get punched in the teeth because of me. I thought you were simply transitioning out.”

  “I thought I’d be walked out,” I say. “Reid Maxwell decided otherwise, and he made it worth my while to stay.”

  “How worth your while?”

  “Worth it,” I say, hating that I don’t want him to know the figure. “Enough to keep me from selling my apartment.”

  “Since when are you selling your apartment?”

  “Since I don’t know where I’m headed. At least this gives me more time to find out.”

  “Carrie, honey, this isn’t going to go as you expect it to. Come here. Help me close this land deal.”

  No, I think, and it’s the first time I’ve reacted this way to my father, which is a weakness. Maybe if I’d said no sooner, we wouldn’t be in this mess. “Unless you have six figures to help me exit the company, I’m staying.”

  “You’ll leave humiliated.”

  Those words punch me in the chest once more. “Did you really just say that? Do you really have that little confidence in me?”

  “I told you, this isn’t about you. I believe you can hold the world up, but it won’t matter. You’re a West.”

  “I’m my own person.”

  He’s silent for several beats. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with,” he finally says.

  “Make me understand.”

  “It’s not something I want you involved with. That’s the point.” He makes a frustrated sound. “This isn’t a conversation for the phone. Come here.”

  “I have a job.”

  “I love you, daughter, but this is not a good choice for you.”

  “It’s the right choice. It’s my only choice.”

  He’s silent for several more heavy beats. “I hate that you feel this is your only choice. Call me if you need me.” He hangs up and I have this sense that there is something he isn’t telling me. Is that something that will lead to my humiliation? I dismiss that idea. My father would not leave me hanging out to dry. He wouldn’t do it.

  ***

  Reid

  After a day of being hammered on by stockholders, the DA, and a laundry list of others, I’m still in my office, my real office, trying to pack up to leave for West Enterprises. I reach up and fight the urge to loosen the blue tie that matches the blue three-piece suit I chose for the stockholders’ meeting. There’s too much on the line for me to even begin to look anything but fresh and ready at all times. I’m about to stand up when my cellphone rings with the call I’ve been expecting all day: Carrie’s father. “What happened to the debt between us?” he blasts through the line. “My daughter is to be left out of all of this.”

  “The contract states that your daughter was to be kept in the dark about the specifics of that debt.”

  “You’re going to punish her, aren’t you?”

  I have a momentary fantasy of Carrie across my lap and that perfect ass naked beneath my palm. Yes, I’ll punish her, but not in the way he’s talking about. “I have no intention of making your daughter pay for your sins. Just you.”

  “If she finds out—”

  “She won’t find out. I don’t break legally binding contracts. I won’t tell her your secrets. Your poor decisions with West Enterprises are another thing.”

  “And there it is. The reason you kept her there. It’s not enough to finally push me out of my company.”

  “That’s not how this happened and we both know it, but if that’s the narrative you need to deliver to look yourself in the mirror, so be it. You made your
daughter believe it and that’s the real problem, isn’t it? You’re afraid I don’t have to tell her the truth. You’re afraid she’ll figure it out herself and she will.” I think of the recent revelations I’ve made about my own father, and I bite out, “Don’t make her find out herself.”

  I disconnect, aware that he’ll encourage Carrie to leave, but I don’t believe she will. She’ll stay. She’ll see her father for what he is and while that won’t expose his true betrayal, maybe it will protect her from a future betrayal. Not that she’s mine to protect. I scrub my jaw. So why the fuck am I?

  My cellphone rings with a call from Royce Walker, the owner of Walker Security, and the company managing all things West Enterprises for me. By the time I hang up with him, I’m furious for about ten reasons. Number one, I was just provided critical security information that Carrie should have known and damn sure better know in the future. Number two, I can’t stop thinking about her. The list goes on from there. I can’t stop wanting her. I keep fucking defending her. I want to protect her. The best way to protect her is to push her. To make her protect herself, and the board, better than she is now.

  ***

  It’s after six when I enter the West offices, fully committed to pushing Carrie. She needs to be pushed. She needs to feel this pain, and I will make sure she damn sure learns from this. Sallie’s desk is empty, giving me a clear path. I walk to Carrie’s door, open it, and enter to find her on the phone, her perfect ivory skin flushing at the sight of me. “Yes, Joe,” she says quickly on the phone. “It all sounds interesting, but I’ll need to call you back. Yes. Thanks. Bye.”

  By the time she hangs up, I’m in front of her, my hands on her desk, and I’m staring into her stunned, emerald green eyes. “Joe Michaels, Rick Smith, and Kent Moore,” I state. “They will not return tomorrow. Fire them.” I push off the desk and walk toward the door.

  “What’s going on?” she demands.

  I turn to look at her. “For once, prove you can do something I want without making me fight you on it.” I turn and leave.