by Whitney G.
“Excuse me?” He raised his eyebrow.
“You know what I’m talking about,” I said, lowering my voice. “That can’t happen again, and I won’t let it.”
“Are you referring to all the mistakes you made during your mock presentation, or the fact that you were screaming “Don’t stop” while I was devouring your pussy?” He looked me up and down. “I need you to be a little more specific about what ‘that’ is …”
“Both. Both are that.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” He smiled. “You’re saying you didn’t enjoy coming in my mouth?”
I blushed. “That’s not the point.”
“Answer my question.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Did you not enjoy coming in my mouth? Were three orgasms not enough?”
I didn’t say anything.
“I would’ve preferred if we were in my office, so I could spread you over my desk and prevent you from moving so much, but since you’re not interested in any more of that …” His voice trailed off with a smirk, and he opened the door a bit wider, inviting me in.
He led me into his dining room, and I noticed a huge purple stain on his favorite white Italian sofa.
Please don’t tell me you wanted me over here to research ways to clean your custom sofa.
Pouring me a glass of wine, he sat across from me at the table. He didn’t say anything, though. He just stared at me, turning me on with each second that passed.
“Was this really an emergency?” I asked. “Or are you trying to get me to have sex with you in exchange for getting out of my contract?”
“We both know that I don’t have to bring you to my condo to attempt that, Tara.” His smile slowly faded as he cleared his throat. “It is an emergency.”
“Someone new and special has come into my life,” he said, finally. “It was sudden and unexpected, but I already have feelings for her. Feelings I can’t explain, but I care about her immensely. I want our new relationship to work, since this is going to be a long-term commitment for me, but I’ll need help adjusting her to my lifestyle.”
A pang of jealousy hit me right in my chest. I picked up my wine and gulped the entire glass.
“I need you to help me plan a few things for us, in addition to finding your replacement at Parker International. Then, since you're so hell-bent on leaving, I'll let you go in six weeks.”
“I'm not planning your wedding. Ever.”
“What?” He looked confused.
“I'm not planning your engagement party either.” I couldn't stop talking. “And if you think for one minute that I won't tell this new instant fiancée that your mouth was all over me a few days ago and that you were talking about doing it again in your hallway, you’re sadly mistaken. Sadly mistaken.”
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Then that smack-able grin that I half loved, half hated crossed his face. I almost raised my hand to knock it away.
“I was referring to my niece,” he said.
What? “Oh.” My cheeks began to burn. “I didn't know you had a niece.”
“I didn't either.” He paused, looking vulnerable for the very first time. “My brother passed away and left her in my care.” He looked away from me, and I noticed the stack of books on the edge of his table: Raising a Child, How to Handle a Toddler, Daughters and Single Dads, Juggling Career & Family.
As if on cue, a beautiful brown-haired toddler strutted into the room, half-eaten lollipop in hand. “Uncle Preston, can I have another one?”
As she stepped closer, I noticed her eyes were the same beautiful hue as his. She was also sporting red and blue sugar all over her mouth.
He unwrapped a new lollipop, and she smiled, looking at me. “I had an accident on the sofa today,” she said.
That explains the sofa stain.
Out of habit, I pulled out my phone and handled it. Returning my attention to her, I motioned for her to come closer. What's your name?
“Violet.” She paused. “Violet Rose Parker.”
“That's a beautiful name.”
“Thank you! What's your name?”
“Tara.” I paused just like she did. “Tara Rose Lauren.”
“I like my name better than your name.”
“Me, too.” I laughed, and she spun around and asked Preston to open another lollipop.
As he agreed and she walked away with two new ones, I let out a breath. “How many of those has she had today?”
“I don't know. Maybe twenty.”
“Maybe twenty? Are you out of your mind?”
“No, but I haven't finished reading my copy of What to Expect When You’re Not Expecting a Toddler. Care to share your notes?”
I rolled my eyes and walked to his kitchen, opening his refrigerator. Every rack was stuffed with bottled water, desserts, and wines. Nothing for a toddler. I stepped into one of his colossal guest rooms, noticing it was still as empty as it was when I first started working for him.
“You should make this guest room her bedroom,” I said, returning to the dining room. “That would be a good start to help with her new life.”
Before I could ask him when he planned on going grocery shopping, I heard the tell-tale sound of heaving. Then vomiting.
“I don’t feel good.” Violet wobbled into the room, looking up at Preston. “My tummy hurts.”
I sighed. “Can you get your driver and her car seat, please?”
“Driver’s on his way,” he said, tapping his phone. “What car seat?”
Violet vomited again before I could answer him.
Twenty
Preston
Two hours later, I set Violet’s brand-new car seat next to my dresser. I made a mental note to use the fluffy key my brother left me to retrieve some things from his place later.
Violet lay under the sheets on my bed, taking small sips of ginger ale, as tears fell down her face. As if her teddy bear was sick as well, she held the straw to his lips every few minutes.
Tara wiped away the tears with Kleenex, shaking her head at me. “You left out all the other things you let her eat over the past few days.”
“I didn’t think there was anything wrong with pizza.”
“There isn’t,” she said. “But she can’t eat that multiple days in a row with lollipops for breakfast, no matter how many times she asks you for it.”
The Bear asked for it.
“Noted.” I watched as she took Violet’s temperature and made her eat the last spoonful of chicken noodle soup. She saved the grape medicine for last, and although Violet insisted that she wasn’t sleepy, she was knocked out within minutes.
I dimmed the lights and motioned for Tara to follow me into the living room. She sat on my sofa and opened my laptop, typing the password.
“When are you going to tell her about her parents?” she asked.
“Sometime this week.” I was still debating on what approach I wanted to take. “A better place” never worked for me, “in heaven” just meant she’d spend countless hours asking questions about where that was, and “they were killed” was unnecessarily cruel.
“You need to get her a temporary nanny in the meantime,” Tara said. “I’ll get some recommendations and have them watch her in your private bedroom suite during work hours, until you hire someone permanent who can watch her here. You also need to have a designer come in asap and get her bedroom designed. She needs to have a space of her own and get accustomed to living with you.” She continued listing all the things Violet will need, and by the time she was finished laying everything out, it was a little after midnight.
“Do you need anything else tonight?” she asked.
“I need you to be my date to the Mister New York gala this weekend.”
“No. I still don’t think that’s—”
“Appropriate?” I rolled my eyes. “That word went out the window in the conference room, and I highly doubt anyone will think anything about you being my date. If you haven’t noticed, you’re with me all the time.”
“There isn’t any print at all.” I extended my hand. “This is a genuine, verbal offer, and I promise to be honest with you about everything until the deal is done.”
“I’ll do the same.” She shook my hand and stood up, heading for my private elevator.
I followed her and pressed the down button. “Thank you.”
“What?” She looked as if she’d just seen a ghost. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said thank you. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you’ve never said that to me. Ever.”
Silence.
“Well, I mean it.” I watched her step onto the car. “Thank you very much, for everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
Twenty One
Tara
That weekend
* * *
I bit my tongue for the umpteenth time tonight. I didn’t know why I thought that Preston having a child in his life would soften him in the slightest, but I was now convinced he would always be an asshole. Even after getting him the best nanny in the city, hiring the best bedroom designer, and ensuring that someone in every field would be able to assist him with all of Violet’s needs, he was still the same.
We’d barely spoken since he picked me up for the gala, and he made it a point to introduce me to everyone as “my quitting assistant who won’t be here too much longer.” There wasn’t any humor in his voice when he said it, and if the person thought it was a joke, he followed with, “Good help is so tough to find these days …”
I felt foolish for spending half a day getting ready for this event, for hoping he would at least offer a goddamn compliment.
I’d spent over two thousand dollars on a custom pink and grey dress that fell just past my thighs, and a pair of brand-new, sparkling silver stilettos from Christian Louboutin. My makeup was done to perfection, and my hair was pinned up in curls with custom glittering pins.
Hurt, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Ava.
* * *
Me: Fuck everything I said earlier about this man “maybe” having a softer side. He’s done nothing but treat me like shit tonight, and I can’t wait until my six weeks are up.
Ava: Don’t let him treat you like that for another second, then. Get the hell out of there. I’ll call you when I land in France tomorrow.
* * *
“It’s nice to see you at one of these things with someone for a change, Preston.” The CEO of Marriott stepped in front of me as I was putting my phone away. “Nice to finally meet you in person, Miss Lauren. I’ve heard great things.”
“Have you heard that she’s quitting?” Preston asked.
“I haven’t.” The Marriott CEO smiled and pulled out his business card. “Since he mentioned it, I’d love for you to consider us.”
“Well, as long as the person I’m reporting to isn’t an asshole, I’ll consider it.”
His eyes widened, and I turned away, heading for the exit.
Preston was at my side seconds later, matching me step for step. “This gala isn’t over yet, Tara.”
I didn’t respond. I kept walking.
“Tara—”
“It’s Miss Lauren for you, forever.” I turned around to face him. “It’s bad enough that I've wasted two years of my life working under you while you treated me like shit, but I’m not letting you ruin my last six weeks. I’m done expecting anything else from you, and I’m done with you tonight. Done.” I stormed away with him on my heels.
I made it to the lobby, and he grabbed my elbow from behind, pulling me into the closest bathroom.
“We had a deal that you would attend this with me.” He hissed. “That means you leave when I leave. It also means—”
“Fuck you.” I glared at him, cutting him off. “Did you not hear what I just said out there? I am done with you. I’ll help Violet for the next six weeks because she’ll be in your unfortunate care, but I’m only doing the minimum for everything else.” I seethed. “I hate you.”
He let go of my elbow. “You hate me?”
“I didn’t stutter.” I tried to move past him, but he gripped my hips, keeping me in place.
A woman stepped into the bathroom and approached the sink. She caught sight of us in the mirror and quickly left.
Preston walked over to the door and locked it. Then he walked toward me, making me step back until my ass was pressed against the towel rack.
He looked down at my dress and pressed his forehead against mine. “I know why you’re upset with me, Tara.”
“I told you not to call me that anymore.”
“You wanted me to tell you how fucking sexy you look tonight?” He trailed his finger against my collarbone, setting my nerves on fire. “How I would’ve preferred that we stayed at your place, so we could finish what we started in the boardroom instead of coming here?”
“No.”
“Yes.” He brushed his lips against mine. “I knew you wouldn’t go for that—even though you know damn well you want to. I’m sure you still have no idea how hard it is to deal with wanting a certain someone for over two years.”
“I’ve wanted a certain someone to treat me right for over two years,” I hissed. “Trust me, you have no idea how hard it is to deal with that.”
“For the record, he’s never hated you.”
“Too bad I’ll never be able to say the same.”
“I thought we said we were going to be honest with each other during these last few weeks?”
“I am honest.”
His hand slipped between my legs, and he slid his hand against my pussy. “This doesn’t feel like you hate me at all.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. It’s beyond hate at this point.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and bit my bottom lip. “Prove it.”
He pressed his lips against mine and my lie lasted all of two seconds, as I couldn’t help but give in. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I moaned as he slid his hands up the back of my dress.
Kissing me recklessly, his eyes remained locked on mine, and he didn’t give me a chance to direct the tempo at all. He controlled my tongue with his, squeezing my ass each time I attempted to lead.
Tearing his mouth away from mine, he stepped back. “Turn around.” He gripped my waist and spun me around, so I was facing the full-length mirror, so our reflections were right in front of me.
Staring at me through the glass, he slowly unzipped the back of my dress—letting it fall to the floor in a pool of silk. He unclasped my bra and pushed it down my shoulder, letting it fall just as slowly. He slipped his hand through the lace band of my panties and ripped them off, placing them in his pocket.
With only my stilettos on, I stood stark naked in front of the mirror, watching him plant hard and rough kisses against my collarbone. Feeling him bite my skin each time I made a sound.
“Bend over and grab the counter,” he whispered, biting the back of my neck.
Swallowing, I leaned forward and gripped the cold marble.
I glanced down at the floor, but he threaded his fingers through my hair, gently pulling my head up, so I was facing the mirror again.
“I want you to keep your eyes on us,” he said, using his other hand to unbuckle his belt. “So you can see how much you’ve always hated me.”
“I always will.”
He smirked and let my hair go, taking a condom from his pocket before letting his pants fall to the floor. Splaying his hand against my back, he wedged his knee between my thighs to spread my legs a bit more.
With his eyes on mine in the mirror, he took his time putting on the condom—slowly rolling it over his huge length. When he was finished, he gripped my hips and placed his cock against my soaking wet slit. Rubbing it against me, he teased me for several seconds
before slowly filling me, inch by inch.
He held me steady, and I did my best to keep a straight face in the mirror. I tried to resist giving him any satisfaction of knowing how good he felt inside of me.
I bit my lip to hold back my moans, hating that I knew he could see right through me. That the years of sexual tension between us were finally falling away in a rough, passionate standoff.
“Ah …” I couldn’t help but cry out when he was completely inside of me. “Oh my god …”
Without warning, he pulled out of me and thrust back in—damn near knocking me over with the force. I gripped the marble harder and became even more turned on, and I watched the reflection of him pounding into me repeatedly.
The sound of our skin slapping echoed off the walls, and my stilettos scraped the floor each time he re-entered me.
Letting go of my hips, he caressed my breasts and gently twisted my nipples.
“Fuck, Preston …” I murmured, watching him own my body with two different tempos.
He suddenly lifted my left hand from the counter and placed it against my pussy.
“Touch your clit for me,” he whispered, moving his left hand to my hair—to pull it hard. “Now.”
I slid my hand lower, circling my clit with two fingers.
“Is this how you want to be treated by the person you hate?” he hissed, glaring at me in the mirror. His expression was a mix of anger, lust, and something else I couldn’t quite make out.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice a bit harsher.
I didn’t get a chance to answer. All I could do was moan, as he fucked me harder and harder.
“Tell me.” He growled, pulling me back by my hair until my head was tilted up and my pussy was throbbing against his cock. “Do you still hate me?”
I couldn’t get anything to fall from my lips but moans.
“Miss Lauren,” he said, mocking my voice from earlier. “Do you still hate me?”
“I’m—I’m about to come,” was all I could manage.