Ex-Con Times Two

by Jay S. Wilder

  His eyes narrow as he sizes me up. “Which employee would this be?” he asks slowly.

  “Does it matter?” I ask.

  “Yes, it does.”

  I sigh. “Anna Nash,” I admit. I see his eyebrows shoot up. “Yes, the one who’s been doing such great work on our social media accounts,” I tell him before he has the chance to ask.

  “What did you do to her?” he asks with a resigned sigh. I knew he would assume the worst.

  “What a surprise, jumping to the conclusion this has anything to do with me,” I say, staring down at my glass. If he ever thought the best of me, or backed me up the way he always backs up my brothers and sisters, I might fall over dead.

  “Well doesn’t it?” he asks. “She’s been doing a solid job. I’m impressed with the reports I’ve seen. The thing is, suddenly she doesn’t want to have anything to do with the opportunity to spend a week in London, and you’re prepared to threaten her job if she doesn’t go. It seems to me something has gone wrong. I’m guessing it has to do with you. Please, go ahead. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  I close my eyes, counting to five to keep from ripping his smug head off, father or not. “Actually, it has to do with Kelly Williams,” I tell him once the rage passes. I see Dad’s eyes cloud a bit, trying to recall who she is. “Ed’s assistant,” I add, to which he nods. “She’s always been the one who goes to these events, so she’s giving me hell for taking Anna to Paris and Miami instead of her. Anna’s a nice girl. She’s heartbroken over this. She knows Kelly’s a big deal over at the magazine, she’s been with us forever. She doesn’t want to ruffle any feathers.”

  “I want Anna there,” Wilhelm says, simply. I struggle to keep the look of triumph off my face. “She has her father’s instincts,” he continues. “She sees the things other people will want to see, and she knows how to present it to them. Frankly, between the two of us I think she has just as bright a career in journalism as her father—though I don’t know of anybody winning a Pulitzer for fashion writing.” I hear the sarcasm in his voice, but I can’t act like I don’t agree with him. I still don’t have a high opinion of fashion.

  He continues. “I don’t pretend to know anything about these social media things, but I do know talent when I see it. She knows how to reach the people. I want to continue in this direction.”

  I can’t help thinking about the job Anna does on me, what she sounds like when she’s clamped down around my cock. “I couldn’t agree more,” I say, finishing off my drink.

  “Let me get this straight,” Anna says, her voice filled with more anger than I’ve ever heard in it—which is saying something. “You’re telling me if I don’t go to London with you, I’ll lose my job. Am I right?”

  I nod sharply. Kelly looks as though she can’t take any more of this. To her credit she manages to keep her temper this time. “I’m sorry, but this is all coming down from the big man himself,” I say, shrugging as though there’s nothing I can do. As though I didn’t orchestrate all of this.

  “I find it hard to believe I’m really so valuable to the magazine,” Anna argues. I look her up and down, unable to help admiring the chic little navy blue shirtdress she picked up when we were in Paris. I don’t know who designed it. I only know she looks like a million dollars. The wide brown leather belt accentuates her slim waist, the brown leather boots reach her knees. I fantasize about fucking her while she wears only them. Maybe I should have her shut the door…

  I shake myself mentally, willing my cock to stand down. “Jesus, for the millionth time: You’re valuable.” I’m trying not to lose my temper with her but she’s pushing me. “Like I said before we went to Miami, Wilhelm loves the work you’re doing. His exact words, actually, had to do with you sharing your father’s instincts. He thinks you have just a big a career in your future. Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  I’m gratified to see a blush spread over her cheeks. Kelly, of course, is not amused by any of this.

  “Where does this leave me?” Kelly asks.

  “It leaves you exactly where you are,” I tell her. “You’re Edward’s assistant. You’ve been his assistant for years. You’re invaluable to the magazine. Nothing has changed.”

  “No, everything’s changed,” she says simply. There’s fury beneath her seemingly calm façade. Her beautifully manicured nails are digging into her palms, her jaw clenched so tightly I think it might crack.

  I see her throw a nasty look in Anna’s direction, then she leaves the room. I brace myself against the sound of the door slamming behind her as it’s done in the past, but she closes it quietly. Somehow the effect is more menacing.

  Anna turns to me. “How dare you?” she hisses. An image of Drew Barrymore in Firestarter comes to mind. All I know is I’m glad Anna doesn’t have the power to set fire to things with her eyes because if she did I’d be nothing more than a pile of ash.

  “How dare I what?” I ask, refusing to play along. I could be stubborn, too.

  “Go behind my back like this. Run to Daddy,” she says venomously. “You’re disgusting.”

  She stalks out of the office. Over her shoulder, she says, “You just can’t stand to let a woman think on her own, can you?” The door slams before I can tell her she’s wrong.

  Chapter 23

  Adam

  It’s a long, quiet flight to London. Anna has barely spoken a dozen words to me since our little meeting with Kelly. Now she’s sitting in her seat, noise-canceling headphones over her ears, immersed in whatever it is she’s got going on her tablet. I might as well not exist.

  I can’t help but notice her legs. She’s wearing a slim-fitting sheath dress which ends just above the knee, and her long legs taper down into her stiletto heels. They’re crossed at the knee, one leg swinging back and forth. How can I possibly avoid staring? Does she have any idea how that swinging leg is clawing at my brain? I can’t concentrate on anything else.

  I think about those legs being wrapped around me. I imagine what it would be like right now, if I manage to convince her to let me take her right now. I imagine sitting her on the sink, pulling down her panties so I can bury myself deep inside her. She’d wrap those long, smooth legs around me. Her mouth would cover mine to mute our cries. I’d slam myself balls deep again and again until she shuddered against me. I’d explode inside her once I felt her muscles clamp tight around me. She’d milk me dry, her greedy pussy taking all it could drain from my balls.

  I realize I have a massive, almost painful erection, so I cover my lap with my suit jacket. She must have noticed. I see her eyes dart over toward my crotch. I’m pretty certain I see a wry smile playing over her lips.

  Snide bitch, I think. All the while I can’t help thinking about being inside her. I see her smile, those luscious lips of hers. I imagine them wrapped around my cock. I twitch in my pants and remind myself there’s no point in continuing down this stream of consciousness. Not if I want to leave the plane without embarrassing myself.

  It’s a long, boring week in London. I realize half the fun of the last three Fashion Weeks has been wrapped up in spending them with Anna.

  Yes we’re together, of course, but only in the most basic way. We sit together at shows, beside each other in the car on the way to and from the hotel. We present a unified front wherever we go, smiling wide, shaking hands with the people we meet, exuding professionalism. We attend dinners together. Dinner is as far as Anna will let things go now.

  She’s still pissed at me. She still thinks I went behind her back to have my own way regardless of what she wanted. I can almost see where she’s coming from, though I don’t agree. She wants to get ahead the “old-fashioned” way. I don’t have the heart to tell her there’s no such thing. It’s all a fantasy. I’m sure even her father, untouchable god of journalism he is, didn’t get where he was without the help of a contact or two. It’s all about who you know. This is one thing which will never change no matter the industry.

  She’s so damn young, so ideali
stic. It’s ridiculous. I know I’m jaded. Not everybody sees things the way I do. She’s in a class of her own. She’s so pigheaded I wonder if she’s not Karma coming back to bite me in the ass for all the shit I’ve put my family through over the years.

  For all of the tension between us, I can’t help but acknowledge the work she’s doing for the magazine. She’s tireless, working night and day to improve our reach. Other magazines are taking notice, too. At more than one event, I see Anna deep in conversation with the editorial teams from other publications. Jealousy rears its ugly head. I don’t like to see her fraternizing with the enemy. More than once I have to keep myself from ripping another guy’s face off.

  I won’t hurt her chances, either. The least I can let the girl do is network. I can’t help thinking about all opportunities we’re missing for great sex, too. I take a long walk alone one night toward the end of the week, her image filling my thoughts. I asked her if she’d join me, but she flatly refused.

  “I have work to do,” she said, leaving the elevator to walk straight to her room. Mine was on the next floor. I held the elevator doors open so I could watch to make sure she got back to her room safely before letting them close between us.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d tried to convince her to spend time alone with me, either. I’d asked her to join me for a drink at the hotel bar, had asked her to come to lunch with me more than once, but every time she shuts me down. She’s good at holding a grudge, I have to admit.

  As I walk along something occurs to me: I never considered finding another woman to keep me company. God knows there are more than enough to choose from. Half the fashion world is here, right now in this city. I’m sure more than one model wouldn’t mind spending the night with the sitting Editor-in-Chief of Trendsetter, who happens to be a billionaire’s son. I could have had dozens of pairs of leg around my waist and head by now.

  It’s always been so easy for me to find women, too. I never had a problem with women before I met Anna, of course. Most of the trouble I’d gotten into through my life had to do with one woman or another. Or multiple women at once. Now, though…I can’t imagine being with anyone else.

  It’s like an epiphany. I literally have to stop walking to let the realization wash over me. Some idiot texting and walking behind me slams into my back. I hardly notice them as they curse me out before walking away.

  Oh, my god. I’m falling for her.

  I turn around to get back to the hotel as quickly as I can. I have to explain so she’ll understand. I’ll have to talk fast, before she shuts me down.

  I knock at her door. Her mumbled complaints filter out to the hallways as she crosses the room. “What is it?” she asks from the other side.

  “Anna, I have to talk to you,” I say. “Please, just give me a minute.”

  She hesitates. After a few moments the latch clicks as she unlocks the door to open it for me. She’s wearing a silk nightgown, her hair loose around her shoulders. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, even without makeup, without high fashion.

  “What is it?” she asks, sounding testy. “I’d like to get to sleep at a decent time tonight.”

  I step into the room, shutting the door behind me. “I want to be exclusive with you,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  She laughs, a short barking sound more surprise than mirth. “What?” she asks, folding her arms over her torso.

  “I mean it,” I insist. “I want it to be you. Us. I’m over the game playing, I’m over going from woman to woman.”

  She looks skeptical, so I continue. “I mean it. I could have gone with some random girl tonight. I could have hooked up with anybody all week long, but I didn’t. I was walking by myself. Wishing you were with me. That’s when it hit me.” I move closer to her, taking her face in my hands. “Anna, this isn’t something I’ve ever said to another woman.” I take a deep breath. “I’m falling for you.”

  I can see it in her eyes. She can’t tell whether I’m being honest, or if I just want to get into bed with her. “Please,” I say. “Believe me.”

  “I want to,” she admits, her chin starting to tremble. Her beautiful eyes are filling with tears. There’s so much hope and need in them my heart could burst.

  Instead of answering I draw closer to her, brushing my lips against hers. One little gesture is all it takes to spark the special something between us. My mouth has been burning for hers, ever since the last time we were together in Miami. All of the desire pours from me into her, from her into me as I lift her in my arms and carry her to the bed.

  I lose track of the number of times we make love in her room. All I know is the sky is lightening by the time we’re finished, both of us drained physically and emotionally. We pretty much wrecked the bed.Pillows are all over the floor, the mattress is sitting askew on the box spring, we’re wrapped in the sheets.

  “Jesus,” she whispers, going in and out of sleep. “I think you’re trying to kill me.” I gather her into my arms, laughing into her hair. We’re asleep moments later. We manage to sneak in a few hours of rest before getting up to dress for the Balenciaga show.

  The day goes the way I wish the entire week could have gone. Now we’re back in our special place, just the two of us. I get to experience all of it through her eyes.

  The next day we fly home, after spending another passionate night together. When I suggest on the plane how I might induct her into the Mile High Club, she blushes. “Maybe next time, when I get my nerve up,” she suggests. I promise to hold her to it.

  When we reach her building, I help her take her bags up to her apartment. No sooner do we make it through the front door than my phone starts ringing. I’m ready to ignore it…only Anna’s begins ringing, too.

  “Great,” I mutter, wondering what the hell’s going on this time. I pull the phone from my pocket, my eyes widening in horror when I see it’s my father calling. He never calls to ask how I’m doing.

  “Dad,” I say, shooting a glance in Anna’s direction. She takes her own phone into the bedroom to answer it.

  “Adam,” he booms, pissed as hell about something. Fucking hell.

  “What is it, Dad? I literally just landed maybe thirty minutes ago,” I say. “What could I have done to piss you off in such a short amount of time?”

  “It’s not what you did,” he shouts into the phone. “It’s what she did. Your new girl. Anna Nash.”

  This is a strange turn of events. It was not the name I expected to hear. “What did she do?” I asked, confused. I look up at the sound of the bedroom door opening. I see horror on Anna’s face.

  “She ripped off somebody else’s work at Italian Vogue, Adam,” Wilhelm says. My eyes search Anna’s for the truth as he continues his tirade. “She lifted the lead-in to the Paris Fashion Week article directly from other pieces. We’re neck deep in shit because of her.”

  Chapter 24

  Adam

  “He was so angry,” she cries in my arms. I know she means her father. He already called, the news breaking while we were in the air of Anna’s supposed plagiarism. Someone must have tipped off the rest of the media. One of the smart cookies working at some sleazy competitor of my father’s holdings had gotten their hands on Nathaniel’s number. I can only imagine how upset he must have been to find out his daughter had ripped off another journalist’s work.

  “How could this have happened?” she sobs as I hold her. I don’t know, but it’s exactly what I intend to find out.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” she asks, looking up at me. She’s desperate for me to say I don’t think she’s a liar—I don’t, of course.

  I take her tear-stained, reddened face in my hands. “Of course I believe you,” I say. “I know you’re not a liar. You wouldn’t do anything like this.”

  I have the driver take me right to my father’s home after I leave Anna’s. She’s inconsolable, of course, but I need to have this out with Wilhelm face-to-face.

 
“This is all bullshit! You can’t be serious,” I say to my father, incredulous.

  “As a heart attack, Adam,” he assures me, his voice tight. “The girl has to go.” He wants nothing to do with finding out the truth. “I mean it. I want her fired.”

  “Dad, I can’t do this to her,” I protest. “Not after how hard she’s worked for us. There has to be a mix-up. She’s better than this.”

  “Oh, Adam,” he says, sounding disappointed. “I thought you had a little common sense, at least.

  “News to me,” I mutter. He heard me, of course, but chooses to gloss over my remark.

  “Let me tell you a little something about business,” he says, folding his hands, leaning toward me from across his desk. “This applies to life on the whole, too: If there’s a cancer, cut it out. Doesn’t matter what a person has done for you in the past. Get rid of them, because it’s just going to get worse later. This girl has made a joke of us, Adam. Cut her out.”

  I have to wonder how much of what he’s saying right now applies to the way he sees me. Am I a cancer to him?

  I force myself to focus on Anna, taking a deep breath. “I just don’t believe she did it, Dad. You don’t know how hard she works. The girl barely sleeps at night for all the time she takes answering even the stupidest comment on one of her posts. Let’s stop being all offended by what she did to the magazine and think critically about it: Why would a person who’s put so much time into improving our image do something like this?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe you’ve answered your own question,” he points out. “Maybe she spent so much time on those silly accounts and those stupid comments to create a strong piece of writing. She wasn’t focused on what really mattered.”

  “How funny,” I point out, sourly. “You loved her a week ago. Now she was spending time on silly accounts. Which is it?”