My words startling them, they turned their heads to me.
“Mr. Frey,” the pissant greeted me. He couldn’t be more than twenty years old. Probably an intern.
“Of course,” Estelle replied, and together we headed down the corridor to my office.
We didn’t say a single word to each other while we walked. The air was dripping with tension, and electricity almost crackled between us. What direction would the conversation take? Would she want to be with me, or had everything between us been just sex and playacting for the benefit of my parents?
I had a burning desire to be with her again.
I wanted to dig my head between her legs and make her agree to every wish of mine.
We went into the office, and I locked the door behind me. I wanted to ensure that nobody would bother us.
“Nick, why are you so angry? Has something happened?” Estelle asked, trying to look into my eyes.
She was wearing a tight black skirt, which nicely outlined the shape of her ass, and a violet silk blouse that was very close to the divine color of her eyes. She was hot, too hot, because despite my rage, my dick was semi-hard. My inability to control my response to her made me even madder.
Nervously, I ran my fingers across my stubble. “Why haven’t you answered my calls, Estelle? Does what happened between us at my parents’ house mean nothing to you?”
Fuck, I was so afraid of what her answer might be. For the first time in my life, a woman had got really deep under my skin.
“Calls?”
“Yes. I must’ve rung your fucking house phone and cell a hundred times, but they were off. I called your work number as well. Miss Hoffman said she’d tell you that I’d tried to reach you.” Her surprise made me feel even more nervous.
I grabbed her and pushed her lightly against the wall, pressing my body against hers. “Did my kisses mean nothing to you? Were you pretending when you screamed and moaned every time I fucked you? Tell me, Estelle.”
Running my lips along her neck, I inhaled deeply. My body was burning, as if I were engulfed in flames. The possibility that she’d lied to me and faked every orgasm manifested itself as a stabbing pain, and it was killing me.
She inserted her delicate hands under my jacket and wrapped her arms around me. Her touch was like sweet torture to my pained soul.
I looked up—her eyes were watching me in confusion. “I never got a message about your calls… I’m sorry, Nick. Where did you get my personal phone numbers?”
“I’m your boss, Estelle. I know where you live. Your birthday, bank account number…everything.” Not that a boss had the right to know how much money his subordinates had, but I’d had someone check Estelle’s balance. She was mine and I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to make sure she had enough to live comfortably.
I’d been very surprised—in fact, I’d go as far as to say I’d been completely stunned—when I’d been told that she had $10,600,000 in her account. There was something fishy behind that money, and I had many questions about it, but no time to ask them right now. For example, why was she renting a one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city when she could afford to live in Manhattan?
I’d been wrong to think I knew everything about her. In fact, I was still in a state of ignorance. The dark side of her past was still deeply hidden from me.
Beautiful Devil: The Rockstar Duet (Book 1) Page 13