Vested Interest (Flynn Family Book 3)

by Kayt Miller

  “Uh, um, yeah, sure. Celebrating.” I slide my palms down the front of my dress making sure it’s all the way down. I clear my throat and look down on the ground for my purse. Once I locate it a foot from my feet, I bend over and pick it up. He runs his hands through his hair and then pushes his hands in his pockets.

  “We should grab a taxi,” he says almost shyly. “I’m still drunk.”

  “Of course. Let’s go see if we can get one.”

  We walk out onto the street turning right. There’s a hotel down the street where there’s a taxi stand. Once there, David opens the taxi door for me, and I slide in far enough for him to move in too, but he just peers down into the cab, “We’re going in opposite directions. I’ll grab another cab. See you tomorrow. I’ll meet you at our old office, and we’ll go up together. Sound good?”

  “Sure. Sounds good. See you…” I don’t get the rest out because he’s shut the door. We could have shared a cab since I no longer live on the south side but I guess he forgot that.

  Chapter 5: David

  Yeah, generally I don’t mind a bad idea now and then except when that the bad idea is my assistant––a woman I work with 260 days a year. I’ll need to chalk it up to the whiskey. That and the fact that I haven’t gotten laid in over eight months. Not that I got laid tonight, but her hand was pretty spectacular.

  “Stop it!” I say aloud to myself in the back of the taxi. The guy hit the breaks so fast I almost hit my head on that Plexiglass partition thing between the front seat and the back. “No, you keep going. I was just talking aloud,” I say to the guy.

  “Crazy Americans,” I hear the guy mutter.

  I pull out my wallet to pay the man when I see my building on the left. Tossing the bills over the seat, I say, “Keep the change.” I’m sure the guy’s heard worse in the backseat of his taxi. Shit’s he’s probably seen it all. Americans are crazy.

  I pass front desk security with a quick wave and make it to the elevator just before the doors close. I lean over and press the number for my floor and stand in the back. I guess I hadn’t realized there was anyone else on board. I smell her before I see her. I turn my head and see a stunning blonde in a tiny little cocktail dress. I give her my sexy smirk that seems to draw in the ladies. She smiles back attempting to look coy and shy, but it’s not working.

  I raise my hand, “Hello, I’m David.”

  She places her fingertips into my palm and gives me that weak handshake that I hate. My dad always told us to beware of anyone who gives you that limp shake. It’s a sign that says the person a) can’t be trusted or b) doesn’t know how to work hard. I’m not sure how he got that second one, but I guess it makes sense. I think I have to give women a break, though. Maybe she’s a southern belle. Those women are genteel.

  In a husky voice made for sin, she replies, “Rachel. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” We’re still holding hands when the elevator opens to a floor that isn’t mine. She looks out the door then back at me. She doesn’t release my hand, and I don’t release hers. “Going up?” I ask with my smirk.

  She smirks right back responding, “I thought I’d go down.” She looks down at my dick and I know she means it.

  I chuckle because, fuck, that was an awesome line. I think I love her. See? This is my type of woman. She’s tall and slim with legs that go on for miles. Her hair is blonde, a little too blonde, but she’s got long hair in waves down her back. She’s dressed for a night out. She’s got a little too much makeup, her lips aren’t plump and full, there’s no beauty mark above her lip, but her cherry red lips will look good wrapped around my cock

  Rachel’s dress is red, what there is of it. It’s so short if she leaned over in front of me I’d be able to see her pussy. The front is so low I can see the roundness of her tits pressing out of the deep V-neck. Her tits are smallish and nice enough. Certainly no double G’s like Cassie’s. The good news is I can see her nipples harden while I’m checking them out.

  I shake the thought of Cassandra out of my head. This is the type of woman I need. This type of woman will look good on my arm when I go to work functions. This type of woman will represent me in the best light to the other executives. I pull her to me, and she comes. I wrap my arm around her tiny waist and bring her to my side. “You sure?” I ask because I don’t force a woman to suck my cock, ever.

  “Oh, yeah,” she says with her own smirk.

  When we reach my floor, I pull her out by the hand and lead the way. Opening my door, I guide her in with my palm on her lower back that’s bare as well. Her back is cold probably because she’s got no meat on her bones. I can see her vertebrae running down her back. She’s still an attractive woman. “Give me a moment. Help yourself to a drink. The bar is over near the window.”

  I walk into my bedroom and unbuckle my pants. I need to clean up after my tryst in the alley earlier. After stripping down completely, I turn on the shower and step inside. I lather up and wash my body and my dick thoroughly. Thinking about earlier makes me hard again. Fuck, Cassie can kiss too.

  I shut off the water and step out grabbing my towel as I go. I rub the towel over my hair and my neck. In the mirror, I see Rachel standing in the doorway sipping something amber. My whiskey. My dick is still hard from thinking about Cassie in the shower. Rachel saunters in touching the tip of my cock as she passes.

  “Nice place you’ve got here, Dave. What do you do for a living?” She’s leaning her back up to the sink and all of a sudden, my dick loses some of its mojo.

  “Investments.”

  “You must be good at it,” she sips her drink again.

  “I do okay. What about you? What do you do, Rachel?”

  “Oh, a little of this and a little of that,” she shrugs.

  In a flash, I realize the mistake I was about to make. Jennifer and I had this exact exchange the night we met. I thought her admission of ‘a little of this and a little of that’ was adorable at the time. But, what she really meant was she did nothing and what she really wanted was someone to fund her lifestyle so she could continue doing nothing. Well, if you include shopping, massages, and getting your hair and nails done a profession, then she was a fucking Ph.D. in that shit.

  I wrap the towel around my hips and my now flaccid cock and say, “You know what, it’s been a long day, and I’m beat. I don’t think this is a good idea right now.”

  “Oh, that's a shame. You and I could have had a lot of fun,” she says jutting her bottom lip out like a petulant child.

  I ignore it. “Rain check?”

  “Of course. I live down on three. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” She leans up and kisses my lips and rubs her palm against my dick tucked safely behind my towel. Her touch is not going to bring him back to life tonight or maybe ever.

  She lives in the building? I’ve never seen her before. Maybe she’s new. Who the fuck cares? I think I dodged a bullet. Rules to live by: Never fuck someone who lives in the same building and never get your assistant off in a dirty alley. Yeah, it’s too late to worry about that second one now. Shit, did she get off? Surely I didn’t leave her high and dry? Jesus. I did. I left her fucking hanging, and I’ve got to face her tomorrow. Fuck! I’m such an asshole.

  Chapter 6: Cassandra

  I slide into the taxi and tell the driver my address. He nods and pulls out into traffic. When I first moved to Chicago, I rarely took cabs––too expensive. Not to mention the fact that I thought I was going to die at the hands of whatever cabbie was driving at the time. I got over that quickly. Now, I don’t even pay attention to the near-death experiences around me. Meh, whatever.

  I lay my head back in the seat and close my eyes. Was it a mistake––our little groping session in the alley? Ugh, I had a groping slash make out session in a dirty alley. Who was that girl? My thoughts turn away from my embarrassment to work tomorrow. What’s he going to say in the morning? Oh, I know what he’ll say. He’ll say he cares about me, but it was a mistake. He’s ju
st getting over the pain of divorce, and he’s not ready for anything more. He’ll say he’s sorry if he hurt me and that I deserved better than to be finger fucked in an alley. He’ll say I’m the best assistant he’s ever had (the only one he’s ever had) and that we make a great team; that being ‘together’ might damage that. Yeah, that’s what he’ll say, and I’ll just nod and say, “You’re right, David.” And that will be that.

  I must’ve dozed off because before I know it, I wake up to a man with a thick accent yelling, “Here! You are here!”

  I look up and see that I am, in fact, here. I pay the man and step out of the taxi. I unlock my door and take the three steps up into my living room. I strip out of my clothes, run myself a hot bath, and step into bliss. “I can’t think about it anymore. Nothing’s going to come from it; I know it, and he knows it. At least I got a little action,” I chuckle to myself but don’t really mean it. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had sex, so it was good to feel someone’s hand other than mine. I wish he’d taken the time to help me climax, but he was pretty excited, maybe even pent up. Poor David. He needed it more than I did.

  * * *

  The morning light streaming in my window can suck it. Everything hurts. My head, my eyes, my eyelashes, my ears, my nose, and even my mouth all hurt like a mo-fo. My mouth is the worst. It feels like a squirrel crawled in there last night and died. “Water,” I croak, “I need water.”

  I roll my big bottom out of bed and slither into the kitchen. I make a full pot of coffee instead of my half pot that I usually make. I’m gonna need all ten cups today. I gulp down a glass of water as I walk back to my closet. I need comfy clothes for this hangover. I dig through my closet looking for a comfortable outfit for the day. I usually wear dresses or skirts, but today I’m going to go out on a limb and wear leggings and a dressy tunic. Lots of the assistants wear things like this. I’ll dress it up with heels and cute accessories.

  I hop in for a quick shower. I took a bath last night, so I just need to rinse off and wash my hair. I look at the clock as I exit the shower and see I’m running late. I let the blow dryer get the top layer of my hair dry, and I put it up into a messy bun. I never go to work without my hair done, but we’re going to be unpacking boxes today anyway so this is fine. I pour myself a travel mug of coffee and fill a thermos full of the nectar of the gods, add cream and a touch of cinnamon, grab my purse, and I’m out the door with three minutes to spare.

  I treat myself to a taxi this morning because my head won’t be able to handle the crazies on the morning metro bus. Those folks are always cranky, and that’s saying it mildly. When the taxi pulls up to the IIM building, I pay the man, grab my stuff and jump out. I wave my security badge over the sensor and nod to our guard as I pass the desk and hit the button up to eleven. As I wait, the number of people lining up for the elevator increases exponentially. I’m the first in line so as soon as the small box empties I jump on.

  I sip my coffee as I ride up and tap my foot on the ground. I’m so nervous. Part of me hopes he calls in sick today so I don’t have to hear what I know I’m going to hear. The other part hopes… just hopes I’m wrong about what he’ll say. On eleven, I squeeze my way through the crowd and head to my desk. My boxes are still sitting on top. The boxes full of our files are gone, though. I peek into David’s office and see his stuff has already been removed. “Must be nice,” I mumble to myself.

  “What must be nice?” I hear his deep voice before I see him. I turn to see a perfectly coifed David Flynn. I look at him from head to toe noting his hair is styled perfectly with a little product, his suit is crisp and classic, and he’s got on his lucky tie again.

  I smile at him pretending we didn’t do dirty things in an alley together last night. Good luck with that one, Cass. “It must be nice they took your stuff upstairs but the left mine here.”

  “That sucks, I’ll help you carry it up. But, can we talk first?”

  “Sure.” Here we go. I step into his office, and he shuts the door behind me.

  “Cassandra? About last night…”

  “Yes?” I tilt my head slightly to the left to let him know I’m listening.

  “Cassandra, you know I care about you, right?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “Because I do. It’s just… I’m getting over that nasty divorce, and I’m just… I’m not ready for anything serious right now. I’m sorry.

  I nod and wait for the rest. So far I’m batting a thousand.

  “I’m sorry if it hurts you, but you deserve better than me. I’m not good enough for you.”

  Ooh, good one. I didn’t have that in my guesstimate.

  “You deserved better than being groped outside of Emmit’s, for God’s sake.”

  “I suppose…” I start to say, but he doesn’t let me finish.

  “You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had, Cassandra. We make such a great team, I’d hate to fuck that up.”

  “You’re right, David. You’re absolutely right. I couldn’t have said it better. Now, we’d better get up there before Lester thinks you skipped out,” I laugh. It’s fake, but it works.

  “Wow, you took that really well. I thought…”

  “You thought I was going to fall madly in love with you because we got drunk and hooked up?” I laugh again. Fake. “I’m a thirty-year-old woman. I know the rules of the game.”

  “Game? I wasn’t trying to play you, Cassandra,” he says a little too defensively.

  “Oh, I know. You misunderstood.” I place my hand on his forearm––his thick muscled forearm. “All I meant was that you and I are fine. We’re on the same page. Now, let’s grab my stuff and head upstairs.”

  “Uh, okay,” he says sounding a little dazed. He smiles weakly as he grabs the box of my personal stuff. I pick up the box full of office supplies. I assume we’ll have a computer and printer upstairs. I cleaned off all of the files on ours yesterday, but I can always ask to have my computer brought up later today. We walk side by side hearing people tell him ‘congratulations’ and ‘good job, Dave’ all the way to the elevator. Once inside, I reach over and hit forty-eight. The offices of the big wigs are all on that floor. I’ve only been there a handful of times, so this is a little nerve-racking.

  When we hear a ding and the doors open, I step out first followed closely by David. I stop to let him lead since I’m not sure which offices will be ours. We walk down the main corridor, turn left and pass two small offices. When we get to the third, I see a desk for an assistant, me, with his office beyond. I gasp when I see it. I set my box down on my new desk and follow him into his swanky digs. “David, it’s huge.”

  “That’s what she said,” he mutters under his breath.

  I let out a giggle, but I’m not sure why. It was funny, sure, but it was also inappropriate. After last night, though, inappropriate is our middle name. Besides, I’m nervous. Giggling is par for the course.

  He sets my box of personal items on top of a coffee table that sits in front of a black leather sofa. It’s huge too. I’d guess the thing is seven feet long. There’s a matching leather chair next to the couch and a tall lamp between the two. I slowly turn to scan his office. The room is almost double the size of his previous office. The other perk? The windows. They span the entire back wall and overlook the city. The view is spectacular.

  I walk to the window and peer down, “You won’t get any work done with this view at your back.” I look up and smile. He’s not looking at me, though. He’s checking out the bar. Yes, that’s what I said. It’s a fully stocked bar right in his office like they had in that show Madmen.

  The bathroom is a showstopper too. There’s a large steam shower tiled in marble. The vanity and sink are just as well appointed with marble and a glass vessel sink. Those sinks look beautiful, but they need to be cleaned daily. Everything shows on those things. I walk back out and place my hands on my hips. “This is amazing, David. No one deserves this more than you.” I mean it too.

  “Thanks, Ca
ssie.” He smiles at me warmly.

  I hope this means we’re past last night. I’ll cross my fingers. We stand in the same spot staring at each other, but that’s interrupted when Lester steps in and says with his booming voice, “Well, what do you think, my boy?”

  “It’s amazing, Mr. Ingot.”

  “Call me Lester. Please.” Lester looks at me and blinks as though he’s trying to place me. Recognition hits and I see something flash across his face that isn’t good. He looks back at David, “Oh, uh, did you meet Gretchen?”

  He turns and walks out of the office. I guess that means we’re supposed to follow him. David lifts his hand, palm up, letting me know I’m to go first. I walk out and see Lester standing next to my new desk but sitting at my new desk is a woman that should probably be on the cover of Glamour or Vogue. She stands up, and I literally have to look up to see her face. I’m wearing three-inch heels, so this woman has got to be close to six feet tall.

  She smiles warmly at David but when she looks at me, her eyes squint, and her nose purses like I smell bad. “David, meet Gretchen, you’re new assistant.” Lester smiles at David then at Gretchen like he’s just given David the best Christmas gift ever.

  “My new assistant?” David asks, confused.

  He’s not the only one.

  “At this level, you need someone who really knows what they’re doing.”

  I look at David, then at Lester then at Gretchen, “No offense,” she says smugly.

  I look back at David and wait. And wait. Yeah, I’m waiting for him have some balls here and say something. When he finally speaks, he raises his hand to her, “Nice to meet you, Gretchen.”

  That’s it? That’s all he’s going to say?

  She looks back at me and coos, “You’re going back to the pool, I’m afraid.”

  “To the pool?” I whisper. I haven’t been to the pool in eight years. It’s a demotion and a big one. I shouldn’t worry. David is going to straighten this out. He needs me. We’re a team.