His chest heaves as he stares at me. “Is it him?”
My jaw trails to the floor. “Are you serious right now? Did you not see what went down earlier?”
“I saw exactly what went down earlier,” he retorts, in a clipped tone, standing up and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “I don’t think I’m the one who has issues seeing things clearly.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “He’s not good enough for you, Demi. And I’ve seen his type before. He’ll only use you up and then toss you aside. You’re worth way more than that.”
Yes, I am.
I watch him walk out of Xena’s apartment and out of my life for good.
I also know I’m better than my behavior tonight. But the million-dollar question is, what am I going to do about this new mess I find myself in?
Chapter 5
Charlie
I WAKE SUNDAY morning with a monster hangover, thanks to the half bottle of JD I poured down my throat when I got home. I roll over in my bed, groaning as I stretch my arm out, feeling along the top of my bedside table for my cell. Finding it, I turn over and prop myself up with some pillows against the headboard.
I stay in bed as I scroll through my inbox. Most are work emails, and I’ve a couple of missed calls from some guys I know from Parkhurst. I ignore the angry texts from Emilia, deleting and blocking her number so I don’t have to deal with her shit ever again.
She was not impressed when I dropped her home and refused to come in. I had zero interest in screwing her after what went down at the club. Instead, I jerked off in the shower to thoughts of Demi’s rage-filled eyes, coming violently against the tile wall.
After I call Lil, I pull on some sweats and pad downstairs in my bare feet. Ghosts of the past follow me as I traipse into the kitchen, and I remember noisy mornings, filled with conversation and laughter, Mom’s homemade honey and apple muffins, and Dad’s freshly squeezed orange juice.
I plant my hands on the edge of the sink, staring absently out the window at the massive gardens spanning the rear of the vast property, wondering how it all went so wrong.
I squeeze my eyes shut, warding off further memories, and the painful ache in my chest serves as a constant reminder of everything I’ve lost.
After a few minutes, I force my tired body to move, switching the Keurig on and pouring a bowl of granola. The only sound in the room is a crunching noise as I shovel spoonsful of cereal in my mouth.
There are a lot of things I hate about my life now, but the constant silence is the thing I hate most. My desolation is reflected in the hollow echo bouncing off the walls, and I can’t stand it any longer.
Jumping up, I storm into the laundry room, grabbing my sneakers. I lace them tight and exit the house via the rear side door, jogging to the running track that skims the perimeter of the woodland at the far side of our garden.
I only have my depressive thoughts for company as I attempt to outrun my demons, and I push my body hard while I’m silently screaming inside.
I arrive back at the house sometime later, dripping in sweat and breathless, but at least, I feel more alive, and the brisk morning air has chased some of the cobwebs from my throbbing head.
I grab a quick shower, pop a couple of pain pills, and head down to my home office to complete an assignment due this week. I pass by the locked door of my father’s study with the usual lump in my throat. Neither Mom nor I could stomach going in there after he died, so we locked it up and threw away the key.
After I complete the assignment, I pull up the app on my cell, checking on Demi’s whereabouts. She’s only a half mile from home, and I’m tempted to get in my car, drive over there, and tell her to forget about last night, but I manage to talk myself out of it.
Her leaving the office is the best option for both of us, because nothing good can come from this obsession.
Abby was the last woman I fixated on, and everyone knows how badly that turned out.
She might not believe it, but Demi leaving Barron Banking and Financial Investment Services is the best way of keeping her safe.
_______________
Knox calls me bright and early on Monday morning to confirm he’s allocated a man to follow Uncle George and he’s personally going to investigate him. I tell him to keep me updated and end the call, climbing into the back seat of my chauffeur-driven car and instructing the driver to take me to the office instead of campus. I want to be there when Demi arrives, so I can see what she does. I also want to work my way through the mountain of unopened mail, so I’ve purposely chosen not to drive myself today.
Arthur Fleming, the CEO, is the only other person present on the executive floor when I arrive. The office doesn’t officially open for another couple hours, so it’s not unusual it’s this quiet.
“No classes today?” he inquires when I enter the small kitchenette.
“I need to catch up on a few things here that were more urgent,” I say, and it’s not really a lie.
“Have you met with Simon Reed yet?” He takes his coffee and leans back against the counter, determined to make small talk.
“The meeting is set for next week.” I fix my coffee, giving him my back.
It’s not that I don’t like the guy.
I like him well enough.
But there’s a natural competitive rivalry between us.
Technically, Arthur’s on borrowed time, because the agreement Dad made with him was that I will take the CEO role, the pole position within the firm, once I graduate with my degree and provided I’ve successfully passed all stages of the training plan he left in place for me.
When Dad first died, I assumed I would be installed as CEO immediately. But Dad had covered all his bases, leaving clear instructions that if he died before I graduated Rydeville University, I was to continue my education and work part-time in the company as president, the second-most senior role and a position that gives me access to every facet of the company while I learn the ropes.
The logical part of my brain concurs it’s a smart plan. The arrogant side of my personality calls bullshit on the need for it. I’m already proving to be a fast learner and a natural leader, and my appetite for knowledge is above reproach. I hate that I’m wasting my mornings on campus, because that’s exactly what it feels like to me. Parkhurst prepared us well for assuming responsibility within our family businesses, and I’ve already covered a lot of ground. But I have no choice unless I want to relinquish my control over the business by failing to deliver on Dad’s successor planning.
“I’d like to sit in on the meeting,” Arthur says, as I add creamer to my coffee.
“I’ve got it covered.” I dare him to challenge me with a sharp look.
He purses his lips before nodding. “As you wish. I look forward to reading your report. I’ve heard some favorable things about him, and if the system he’s developed is as good as it claims to be, we need to be all over it. I’d like to tie him down to an exclusive contract so he can’t take it elsewhere.”
“If it’s suitable and it offers efficiencies and cost savings, we’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse,” I agree.
We end our conversation, heading to our respective offices, and I leave my door ajar, settling in behind my desk to wait for my PA to arrive.
Demi shows up forty-five minutes before official opening time, and I watch her hang up her coat and power up her computer like a sneaky Peeping Tom. She hasn’t noticed my door is slightly open. She hasn’t even glanced this way. Because she presumes I’m at college, like usual.
She removes some files from her desk drawer, pops on her headphones, and begins typing away.
My lips twitch as I wonder if this is her game plan. If she’s going to pretend like nothing happened.
If she wants me to make the first move, I’m down with that. I pick up my desk phone and press the button to summon her.
Startled, she visibly jumps in her seat, and I watch her gaze grow wide as she stares at the phone like it’s going to
grow teeth and bite her. An involuntary grin spreads across my mouth as her head jerks up in the direction of my office. Her face pales when she spots me, and I mentally rub my hands in glee.
I’m starting to see why Anderson enjoyed playing the asshole with Abby. Although, in his case, there was minimal acting involved. Because the guy’s a bona fide douche.
I curl my fingers at her in a come hither gesture, never taking my eyes off her as she stands, smoothing a hand down the front of her wrinkled black pencil skirt. She snatches her notepad and pen, and I examine every inch of her as she walks toward me, noticing how badly she’s trying to hide her fear. She holds her head up high as she enters my office.
“Shut the door,” I command, swiveling in my chair as I tap my Montblanc pen on the top of my desk.
Her hands are shaking as she shuts the door, but she quickly composes herself, tipping her chin up and fixing me with a determined look. She walks to my desk, and I point at one of the empty chairs in front of it with my pen. “Sit.”
She slides onto the chair, crossing one slim leg over the other, and I catch a glimpse of the lacy top of her stockings. My cock jerks behind my zipper, and I silently caution the beast to calm down.
“What do you need, Mr. Barron?” she asks, adopting the formal tone she uses in the office.
“An explanation, Ms. Alexander.” I drill her with a dark look. “I believe I made myself perfectly clear Saturday night.”
She puts her notepad down on her lap, clasping her hands on top of it. “I was hoping we could agree to put that incident behind us. We’d both been drinking, and I’m sure we said things we didn’t mean.”
I lean forward in my chair, placing my pen down. I rest my elbows on the desk and stare at her. She’s wearing her dark hair up in an elegant chignon, exposing the delicate column of her slender neck. Her pretty lips are coated in a light layer of gloss, and her gorgeous big, brown eyes are rimmed by a layer of long, fat lashes.
She truly has the most stunning face.
Perfectly symmetrical in its beauty.
If she was taller, I bet every modeling agency in town would be beating a path to her door.
My gaze drops to her mouth, and an image of her plump lips wrapped around my cock has me straining painfully in my pants.
I force myself to focus. “Don’t presume to put words in my mouth. I assure you, I was perfectly sober,” I lie.
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and my eyes are like heat-seeking missiles tracking the movement.
“I apologize for my behavior,” she says, her voice ringing out loud and confidently. She stares me directly in the face, and her solemn expression conveys the truth of her words. “It was disrespectful, completely beneath me, and I promise you nothing like that will ever happen again.”
I quirk a brow. “Am I expected to take you at your word?”
She’s momentarily flustered. “Yes. You’ve worked with me long enough to know I’m reliable. If I tell you I’ll do something, I do it.”
That’s true. I doubt being a personal assistant is her dream job, but I can’t deny her commitment. She throws herself into every task with professionalism and enthusiasm, and I haven’t made it easy on her.
But she never complains.
She just gets on with things.
I know Arthur believes she has untapped potential, and she’s popular with the other secretaries and assistants.
Demi is a good girl.
Far too good for someone like me.
Which is why she really should keep her distance, because I’m not convinced I have the tenacity to stay away from her for much longer.
“And if I tell you that’s not good enough. That you crossed a line you can’t come back from, what would you say?” Adrenaline races through my veins at the sheer panic etched upon her beautiful face.
“Please, Charlie. You know why I need this job.”
“This isn’t a charity. Save your sob story because that truly is beneath you.” I’m being an asshole on purpose, because I want to poke the beast.
Fire blazes in her eyes, and her legendary backbone makes an appearance. Demi’s natural inclination is to appease, and she doesn’t court conflict. But that doesn’t mean she’s a pushover. When challenged, she can more than hold her own. For months, I’ve pushed and pushed her, and she is well capable of fighting back.
I silently encourage her to go on.
“I have other stories I could tell,” she says, sitting up straighter. The vein in her neck pulses as she grows more animated. “I think the media would love to hear how the new president is nothing more than a bully who gets off on abusing and belittling his PA. Or how a company, who prides itself on its traditional family image, tossed a loyal employee to the curb the minute he was no longer of any use to them. I’m betting they would pay handsomely for such a story.”
I wonder if she actually has the balls to do it. I think if I pushed hard enough, she would. But that’s a nightmare the PR people would not thank me for, and I’m still the new guy at the top, so deliberately ruffling feathers would not be intelligent.
“You signed a nondisclosure agreement, as did your father when he accepted our severance package. No one forced either of you to sign.” I stand and walk around the desk, towering over her on purpose. “You breathe one derogatory word about me, or the company, and we will take legal action. You won’t have a penny to your name by the time we’re done.” It’s not an idle threat. I will go all out to protect what is mine.
“You can’t threaten me!” She rises, waving her finger in my face. “I’ll file a complaint with the ACLU. There are laws to protect employees who are victimized in the workplace, NDA or not!”
A red stain creeps up her neck and onto her cheeks, and I’m quite partial to that aggressive, flushed look on her face. My cock agrees, aching against my zipper.
Visions of Demi handcuffed to my bed, on all fours, with her reddened ass sticking up in the air, dance across my mind’s eye, turning my erection rock hard.
I can’t remember the last time I was this hot for a woman.
If ever.
If she looks down, there will be no disguising how much this turns me on.
How much she turns me on.
This is the most fun I’ve had in ages, and I’ve zero desire to dial down my assholishness.
I push into her personal space, and she stumbles back, falling into the chair. I plant my hands on either side of her, gripping the armrests, as I lean my face super close to hers. I angle my head, pressing my mouth to her ear. My warm breath fans across her delicate skin, raising tiny goose bumps along her sensitive flesh. I remember how responsive she was to my touch, and the craving to touch her again is almost too much.
“Were you victimized when you lowered your wet pussy down on my throbbing cock?” I whisper in her ear. “Or when you scraped your nails up and down my back, leaving marks?” I run my nose up the column of her neck, and I’m dangerously close to losing control.
Her body trembles underneath me, and she’s holding herself rigidly still, fighting this crazy desire pulsing between us.
“Answer me,” I snap before pressing my mouth to the underside of her jaw.
A tiny whimper flies out of her mouth. “I’m not referring to that, and you know it.”
“There is an easy way to settle this,” I say, clasping hold of her wrist. “If this job means that much to you, I can let your disgraceful behavior pass if your apology is sincere enough.”
“It is!” she cries, lifting her eyes and staring at me.
I push off the chair and straighten up, leveling her with a heated stare that comes from pure, visceral need. “Prove it.”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously but she doesn’t shy away. “How?”
“Unzip my pants, get on your knees, and suck me off. Do a good job, and I’ll forget Saturday night ever existed.”
Chapter 6
Demi
“YOU CAN’T BE serious?” My voice elevate
s a few octaves as panic swaddles me.
“As a heart attack,” he coolly replies. His dark gaze challenges me, but I can’t figure out if it’s a test. Does he want me to obey or fight him on it?
I stand, and our chests brush in the process, sending a wave of heat flooding through me. Ignoring my cursed libido, I glare at him. “I’m not blowing you. That is unethical, illegal, and downright disgusting.”
He smirks, and the urge to slap him again is riding me hard.
“Let’s not pretend, Demi.” He places his thumb on my neck, just underneath my jawline, right in the spot where my heartbeat is thumping like crazy. “There would be nothing disgusting about it, and we both know it.”
He cocks his head to the side as his thumb swipes back and forth across my overly sensitive flesh. “I know you’re a good girl, Demi. Everyone can see that.” He leans in close to my face, lining his lips up with mine, keeping scant distance between us.
At this proximity, his spicy, woodsy scent assaults me, holding me prisoner, ensuring I can’t move a muscle.
“But I also know you’re a naughty, dirty girl.” He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “And I’m guessing that side of you hasn’t been explored.” He trails his hand up the side of my thigh, over my skirt, but I still feel his touch skin-deep. “I know you want to do it, dirty girl. You want to sink to your knees and let me fuck your mouth until you’re gagging and choking and enjoying every mouthwatering moment.” He grips my hip hard, and I gasp, the pain sending a torrent of heat to my core.
A switch flicks in my brain, and I shove at his chest, pushing him back a couple steps. “You know nothing, Mr. Barron. I’m not some cheap whore you can manipulate. I have more self-respect.” A thought pops into my head, and I blurt it out before I can stop myself. “I hear Manning Motors is recruiting,” I lie. “Perhaps I’ll send them my resume.” It’s a deliberate punch to the gut, because Manning Motors is the company owned by Abby’s family. If my research is correct, Abby works there part-time alongside her twin brother, Drew.
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