Power Play - A MFMMM Reverse Harem Billionaire Romance (You Can't Resist a Bad Boy Book 6)

by Layla Valentine

  Still pushing into me, he leans forward and plants his mouth on my neck. The sensation of his sucking there adds to what I’m already experiencing, and I start to shake all over again. A second orgasm flies through me, making my legs shake.

  Ryan lets loose, grinding into me so fast my breasts shake and I nearly lose my balance. He groans and stills, his lips sucking greedily at the nape of my neck. With synchronized gasps, we both collapse onto the bed and roll to our sides.

  With his arms around me, his chest pressed against my back, I close my eyes and listen to the pounding in my ears. My whole body is abuzz, like it’s been struck by lightning. Ryan’s breath tickles my ear, but it’s also soothing, an even exhale I can count on.

  What next? Now comes either the awkward or amazing part. He might ask me to leave. If he does, I’m out. No groveling for me.

  Or he might want me to stay. If he does, what does that mean? Is this a one-night stand, or the pre-show to that date he mentioned.

  It doesn’t matter, is all I can think. Those are the things I worry about too much. Right now, all I’m really aware of are Ryan’s warm arms around mine. I fit so easily against him, and it’s such a secure place to be.

  Still, I should get up… I should…

  I try to open my eyes, but they’re too heavy. One more minute, and then I’ll stand. Just one more minute of lying here in this perfect moment…

  Chapter 4

  Ding. The familiar sound of my phone receiving a text pierces my skull.

  Groaning, I reach in the direction of my night stand. My fingers brush against a pillow instead.

  Wait a second.

  In a flash, it all comes back. I pop my eyes open, taking in the mess of sheets and blankets surrounding me. Last night… The bar… Ryan…

  Warily, I sit up. The bedroom is empty, the curtains drawn to let in the morning sun. There’s no sign of Ryan, though.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, pressing my palms against my face. I slept with my article’s subject’s assistant… Talk about using your womanly wiles to get ahead.

  Except that’s not why I slept with Ryan. The two of us had a real connection. It’s just that now, in the light of day and without any liquor in my system, I clearly see how what happened the night before might look.

  “Good morning.”

  I drop my hands from my face to see him standing in the doorway, straightening his tie. He’s just as delicious-looking as he was twelve hours ago.

  “Hi. What, uh… What time is it?”

  “Almost seven.”

  Seven. That leaves me just enough time to run home and change before I have to be back at work, so long as I order a car and don’t bother with public transportation.

  I scan the room, finding my clothes folded in a neat pile and my purse and notebook sitting next to them. From inside my tote, another ding sounds. Whoever is texting me really has something to say.

  “You probably have to get to work,” I say, quickly climbing from bed and snatching my clothes. I yank my panties and skirt on, conscious of his eyes on my back the whole time. There’s a nervous knot forming in my stomach. Despite what we did last night, or maybe because of it, I’m now super nervous.

  Deftly pulling on my bra and blouse, I take a seat to slip my high heels on.

  “Sorry if I’m keeping you. I’m ready to go now.”

  His hands are in his pockets, his cool eyes on me.

  “It’s fine. I run on my own schedule.”

  “Mr. Garner won’t be mad if you’re not in the office at a certain time? Even if he’s not there?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” I walk to him, taking all of my things with me. “So, Ryan, I had a really nice—”

  “Actually, Ryan is my middle name.”

  “Oh. Okay…”

  He looks down at me, perfect jaw and lips only mere inches away.

  “My first name is Zach. It’s Zach Ryan Garner.”

  My stomach drops, all the way from the penthouse to the bottom floor.

  “W-what?”

  The slightest hint of a smile plays on his mouth, but a full grin never emerges.

  “Zach Garner,” he repeats. “CEO of Zarner Technologies.”

  “Why did you…? How can you…?” I’m babbling, unable to mask my anger. For someone whose job is asking questions, I suddenly can’t get so much as one out.

  Ryan—Zach—puts his hands on my shoulders. There’s something condescending about the action.

  “I had a great time last night.”

  “Okay.” I shake my head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  He blinks, his expression impossible to read. Maybe I’m being mean, but I couldn’t give less of a fuck. This guy lied to me, misled me. He had me thinking he was someone he wasn’t.

  What’s worse is that I just had sex with the subject of my article. I was already feeling guilty about doing it with Zach Garner’s assistant, and now I’ve found out I’ve actually done it with Zach Garner himself!

  “Why would you do this?” I ask. “Why would you lie to me about who you are?”

  His hands drop.

  “You said yourself that Zach Garner is elusive. He doesn’t just give it up to the media.”

  My face warms. “So instead you pretended to be someone you’re not, someone who doesn’t exist…” I stare him down. “Or does Ryan exist?”

  “I have several assistants, none with that name.”

  “Good to know,” I dryly snap.

  His face is closed off, the opposite of what he showed me the night before.

  “I haven’t gone this long flying under the radar without knowing how to play the game, Noelle.”

  “You still didn’t have to lie to me, to…bring me back to your apartment while letting me think you were someone else.”

  “When the night began, I had no intention of bringing you back here.”

  “Huh.” I cross my arms. “You don’t have to explain to me. I think I understand perfectly what’s happened here.”

  Pushing past him, I stomp my way down the hallway, shame coursing through me. Not only did Zach Garner deceive me in order to evade an interview, but he employed the same tactic to use me for sex.

  Was anything that happened in that bar real? Were his smiles genuine? His claim that he also likes the outdoors true?

  At the end of the hall, I spin on my heel to face him.

  “Thanks for a night of complete lies.”

  He wasn’t smiling before, but now his face falls.

  “I have to—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Protect your assets, blah, blah, blah. You didn’t have to take advantage of me in order to do that.”

  His jaw tightens.

  “Have a good day at work, Noelle. Once you get there, maybe you can deliver a message to your boss for me. Tell Ethan Ford that the next time he wants to send one of his lackeys to get some dirt on me, he should try being a little more subtle about it.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but I’m nothing more than a fish gulping against the air. He knew. How did he know?

  I haven’t read anything in the trade magazines or blogs about Mr. Ford taking over the Franciscan Tribune. The public shouldn’t know anything about his newest acquisition. Yet, somehow, Zach does…

  He stares at me, that unreadable expression making my blood boil.

  I wish I could tell him off, wish I could flip him the finger and tell him to go to hell. But I can’t. Despite the fact that he just pulled the wool over my eyes, he also showed me an amazing time last night—one that was full of connection and passion. And even if it was all a lie, I can still feel the aftereffects of the high. I want to hate him. But I can’t just yet.

  Without another word, I leave the penthouse, letting the door slam shut behind me. I repeatedly jab my finger against the elevator’s call button, keeping one ear cocked, waiting to see if he’ll come after me.

  But of course he doesn’t. Why would he? I’m nothing but a lacke
y to him—his word, not mine. I’m no good for anything but a little bit of fun. Oh, yeah, and for being his personal delivery service.

  The elevator opens, and I quickly step in and close my eyes. It’s not until I’m on the bottom floor that I open them.

  Around the corner from the building, in a semi-safe spot between a bakery and a lawyer’s office, I pull my phone from my purse to see who’s been texting me. There’s nothing but a long stream of messages from my best friend, Claire, asking me if she left her phone charger at my place, because she ‘really needs it’ and she will ‘probably die’ if her phone does.

  “Not now, Claire,” I mutter, putting the phone away.

  I stare out at the busy street, my head buzzing. How did Zach know so much about Mr. Ford? And, better yet, why does he even care?

  Is there something else going on here? Could they…know each other?

  Suddenly I get the sense that there is a real story here—a juicy, potentially life-altering one. But it’s hidden deeper than a newbie like me can hope to dig.

  Chapter 5

  Today I’m not worried about being late. There’s only one thing on my mind as I enter the office building. I need to know what’s going on here. Not just for my article, but for myself as well. I’m about to explode with a need to know. It’s the kind of hot desire I’ve never felt for a story.

  Mr. Ford and Zach know each other.

  They must. Or else they are business rivals, and spar from a distance. Either way, there’s some kind of secret connection there.

  Although I left Zach’s building feeling downtrodden, like the story had turned into too much to handle, once I got to my studio apartment and jumped in the shower, I realized it’s actually a gift. Before, I was struggling just to find an angle. With this new information, I could be on to something. Now if I can just find out more about the connection the two men have…

  The thing is, I have to be secretive about it all.

  “Is Mr. Ford in?” I ask the receptionist, who looks at me like I’m insane.

  “Who’s asking?”

  “I’m Noelle. I’m a reporter here. This is my second week.”

  “Oh,” she says with disinterest. “Then don’t you know how to get in touch with him yourself?”

  I ignore the question.

  “I’m working on an assignment for him. It’s important. I’m sure he would be very unhappy if he was made to wait.”

  That gets her moving. She makes a phone call while I hang onto the edge of the counter, holding my breath.

  She hangs up and points a gangly arm to the right.

  “Down the hall, take a left.”

  “Thanks.”

  I’m off, knees shaking a bit as I go. What I’m about to do is risky. Once I get into that office and start causing a scene, Mr. Ford could very well lose his patience with me.

  But it’s the only shot I have. He’s not about to hand over information, so I have to make things personal. If I lose all decorum, maybe he’ll do the same. Maybe he’ll let something slip.

  It’s similar to the approach I tried taking with Ryan—Zach—but that turned out much different than I had expected.

  “Is this Mr. Ford’s office?” I ask the male secretary. “I need to speak with him.”

  “Yes, but he’s—”

  I plow on, pushing open the heavy office door and going right in.

  “Hey!” the secretary calls after me. I don’t look back at him.

  Mr. Ford looks up from his desk, papers spread out in front of him and a gargantuan corner office with massive windows stretching around him. As his eyes connect with mine, the hotshot attitude I’d worked myself into goes straight out the window.

  Because I’m still a woman. And he’s a hot man.

  And I’m turning to putty right in front of him.

  I stop a few feet away from him, hand on my hip, trying to act like I’m everything I don’t feel: brave, sure of myself, and completely unaffected by his Greek-god good looks.

  I expect him to yell at me for barging into his personal space unannounced, but he simply folds his hands and leans back in his chair.

  “I like the natural look.”

  He says it without a hint of sarcasm. Remembering that I had no time to put on makeup after washing off last night’s raccoon eyes, I self-consciously tuck some hair behind my ear. With the exception of when I’m hitting the gym, makeup is usually a daily staple.

  “How did last night’s interview go?” he asks, already moving on.

  “So you did set me up.”

  His perfect forehead wrinkles.

  “Set you up? What are you talking about?”

  “You sent me in without giving me the full details. Zach knew the whole time what was going on. He even…” My face heats up, because revealing that I was tricked makes me feel like a fool. “He even lied to me and told me that he was his assistant, as in Mr. Garner’s assistant…and I believed it.”

  Mr. Ford’s jaw hardens.

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Why? What’s the point of all of this? If you already know Zach Garner, why send me to interview him? Can’t you just call him up yourself?”

  “What makes you so sure I know him?”

  My eye roll can’t be stopped.

  “No offense, Mr. Ford, but I’m not that stupid. He mentioned you by name. He said that you should try being more subtle when you send one of your lackeys to get dirt on him.”

  Mr. Ford’s tongue drags across his bottom lip.

  “What exactly happened last night?”

  More dancing around. Is this man ever going to answer one of my questions directly?

  Giving up on my original game plan for this conversation, I just shake my head. Maybe if I give Mr. Ford what he wants, he’ll give me what I need to actually write a good article.

  “When I got to the offices, I waited for an hour, and then a person who introduced themselves as Mr. Garner’s assistant came down. We went to get drinks, but he kept dodging my questions. So then we started talking about other things. I think he was trying to distract me, because we got, uh, close. And then he didn’t tell me he was actually Zach Garner until later.”

  I don’t specify that by later, I mean the next morning.

  Mr. Ford smirks.

  “He can never resist a pretty face.”

  I quickly look away. He knows. I’m a shitty liar, and I bet anyone could tell from my poor cover-up that I slept with Zach Garner.

  “So that’s why you had me go?” I quietly ask. “It had nothing to do with my journalistic skills?”

  “No one can get a story out of Garner. No typical journalist, anyway. A person needs to have other skills. We talked about this, Noelle.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t get any information on him, other than that his apartment is super clean and minimal. So there.” I throw my hands up. “Should I write an article on that?”

  Mr. Ford smiles, and for a second the hardened expression he’s been wearing vanishes. He looks younger, more carefree.

  But then he clears his throat and looks away, almost as if he’s caught himself sinning.

  “You’ll go back, of course.”

  I stare at him. Did this man hear anything I’ve said?

  “He found out,” I slowly say. “He knows that I was a plant.”

  “And so he knows that I know, so perhaps he thinks I am giving up.” Mr. Ford gives a subtle shake of his head. “But I don’t do that.”

  My head spins with the sheer lunacy of all of this.

  “This can’t work.”

  “Why not? Zach already proved he has a taste for girls like you.”

  “Well, that doesn’t mean much,” I snap. I hate how this conversation—this whole situation—is making me feel. I really liked the man I met last night. Now I’ve just found out he’s a fraud.

  And my boss isn’t that much better of a person either.

  “Listen, Mr. Ford, I really appreciate this job, but I�
��m not just going to be your pawn. You haven’t even told me why you want me to get info on Zach—or even what specific info to get. I’m completely in the dark here, and I’m being made to look like the fool.”

  “I’ll tell you.”

  He gets up and walks around the desk while I apprehensively watch. Just a couple feet away from me, he folds his arms and leans against the front of his desk. My heart speeds up.

  “I’m going to publish a tell-all expose on Zach.”

  “Telling what?”

  He nonchalantly shrugs. “Whatever.”

  “You mean you’re going to make something up.”

  “Hopefully, I won’t have to. It would be better if the information you brought back was what was needed.” He dips his face to look straight into my eyes. “This could work out well for you, Noelle. I’m going to need a writer for the book.”

  “What do you have against him?” I can’t keep the spite out of my tone.

  His eyes flash, something personal and deep hidden in there.

  “That part isn’t your concern. Don’t worry about it.”

  A sharp exhale leaves me. This web is just becoming more and more tangled…

  “Anyway, it won’t work.” Haven’t I already told him this?

  “I think it will.”

  “It won’t,” I stubbornly repeat. “Zach has already made it clear he’s telling me nothing.”

  “You underestimate yourself, Noelle. I can tell you have no idea just how much power you have over men.”

  Each inch of my skin shivers. This guy is my boss. And a manipulative shark at that. I wish he’d stop looking at me—and yet I also hope he never stops.

  “Go back to him,” Mr. Ford directs. “Apologize. Trust me, he’ll accept. And he’ll welcome you right back in.”

  “No.” It’s out of my mouth without a moment’s hesitation. “I can’t get behind this, Mr. Ford. Neither ethically nor personally. I’m sorry, but this is one article I am just not going to write. Assign me anything else. I’ll even commit to writing about the nut festival every single day until it withers up and dies, but I’m not going to help write some salacious tell-all that’s probably going to be full of lies anyway.”