Would it be so bad if this was for the rest of my life?
Chapter 21
Emma
The lines twisted on the page, forming something abstract that I hadn’t quite figured out yet. The best drawings, in my opinion, didn’t take shape until they were already halfway done. I liked sketching still life as much as the next artist, but for me it was all about how the lines blended, strayed, and worked together on the page to eventually form a picture.
I was enjoying Max’s gift, which he had brought back to my place earlier this week. I hadn’t been able to enjoy drawing for a long time, and somehow his support and encouragement had gotten me out of that funk. Max Westfield was my muse. I chuckled to myself as I wondered what he would think if he knew that.
Unfortunately, there were things about my relationship with Max that I wasn’t enjoying. Namely, the uncertainty. He seemed all about me now, but how long would his attention last? Surely he’d grow tired of me eventually.
With that in mind, I’d been trying to hold back emotionally. That was easier said than done when he kissed like the devil, but treated me like an angel. I didn’t know if I’d be strong enough to end it if I needed to, if it started to become obvious how much more involved and committed I was than he was. It was a sad thought, one I felt guilty for having. Still.
My pity party for one was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was surprising, though not too much so. Willow had a key to the building, though it was unlike her to drop by unannounced. I laid my drawing down on the desk and walked over to the door, already wondering if I had enough wine in the fridge for the two of us.
The familiar face that greeted me was not nearly as welcome as Willow’s would have been. I glared at Lance and tensed, ready to slam the door in his face. As if reading my intent, he shot out a hand to stop me.
“Wait,” he said. “Can you just listen to me for a sec?”
I pushed against the door but it wouldn’t budge. He was much stronger than I was. I didn’t dignify his question with a response and instead tried body slamming the door. Nothing.
Lance barged right through me, like I was nothing more than a bag of twigs. For a guy as skinny as he was, he knew how to throw his weight around when he wanted to.
“Lance, I don’t want you here.” I held the door open as he started circling the small living room, looking at my sparse furnishings with more than a hint of disdain on his face.
“Tough.” He stopped in the middle of the living room and faced me, hands folded over his chest. “I’m not leaving here until you talk to me.”
He had the same determination in his eyes that he did when he was playing a particularly tricky level on his X-Box. I knew then that he wasn’t going to leave, so I closed the door and gestured for him to start talking.
Lance cleared his throat. “I love you, Emma. I’ve always loved you, but I needed some time apart to see that.”
I scoffed. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have said the things you said.”
“Which things?”
“Any of them!” I threw my hands in the air. “The insults, the breakup, the manipulation! You’ve been horrible to me for longer than we’ve been broken up, but you’ve been extra horrible to me since then and I’m tired of it. I don’t know how much clearer I could be about not wanting you in my life!”
It felt good. Damn good. It was the first time since we broke up that I knew I was completely, one hundred percent over him. There was no ache anymore, no hollowness. I’d stripped away all traces of need for Lance, leaving only anger.
Righteous, bloody anger.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “You’re confused. I hurt you, I know that. But I can make things better, baby.”
He stepped toward me and I took a pointed step back.
“No.” I put up my hand to stop him. “Don’t come any closer to me. I don’t want you. I don’t love you. I just want you out of my sight.”
Visible irritation crept into Lance’s features, pinching his mouth and creasing his brow. For someone who couldn’t hold down a job for more than a couple months, he took failure very hard. Maybe it was because this scene was altogether too similar to how he’d dumped me in the first place. Served him right.
“You’re making a big fucking mistake,” he spat. “You’re just a cheap slut from the wrong side of the tracks. You’d be nothing without me. You’d be back in Illinois if it weren’t for me, probably with a few kids hanging off you. You should be grateful for everything I’ve done for you.”
While it was true that at the beginning of our relationship, Lance had helped me transition into city life, and he had gotten me through a couple rough spots, but I never would have gone back. There was nothing there for me. There never had been.
“I’m making a mistake?” I scoffed. “That’s rich. You’re the one who made the mistake and you know it. You’re just pissed because you’re alone and I’ve moved on.”
“Moved on? Is that what you’re calling your little tryst with that pompous douchebag?”
This was getting ridiculous. I didn’t know whether it was his allergy to success or just a side effect of getting older, but the bitterness that had steadily crept into Lance over the past year was reaching its peak. At least I hoped it was. I couldn’t imagine him being any worse than this, and if I tried to imagine it, all that came up was something quite scary.
“It’s not a little tryst,” I took a step toward him, showing him I wouldn’t be bullied. Not in my own home. Not ever. “We’re a couple, and he treats me better than you ever did.”
“Of course he does,” Lance sneered. “He’s some spoiled brat with a silver spoon in his mouth. I bet all he has to do to get you wet is open up his wallet.”
“He’s a good man, which is more than I can say for you.”
“And he’s rich.”
“What’s your point?” I asked. “I don’t care about that stuff. I never have. You’re the one who’s always been so obsessed with money, but you can’t keep any around long enough to pay the bills. You probably only want me back so you don’t have to get a fucking job. I stood by you and supported you without a single complaint, even though I had plenty to complain about, and you tossed me out on the street. If you think for one second that there is anything you can do or say to hurt me or gather my favor, you’re even more out of it than I thought.” I pointed to the door. “Get out.”
“I wouldn’t want to be here with you any longer anyway,” he snarled. “You stink of whore.”
I laughed, “Good one.”
Lance tossed me one last seething look before wrenching open the door and slamming it closed behind him. I let out a gust of breath as soon as he was out of sight, amazed that I’d managed to keep it together. My eyes stung with tears, but I couldn’t tell whether they were tears of anger, sadness, or relief. Perhaps a mix of all three.
I headed back to my desk and sank back down onto the chair, picking up my pencil with a shaky hand and channeling this odd combination of feelings into swooping arcs and scribbles on the page. It would never be a masterpiece, but this scrambled mass of black and gray had captured the emotions of the day so perfectly that I knew I’d never be able to get rid of it.
It was hard, what I’d just done. It felt good, but the emotional aftermath took some slogging to get through. I was shaken from the encounter, and it took some time and a bit of wine before I calmed down again.
Still, at the end of the day, at least it was over. No more Lance. That conversation had an air of finality about it, one that I was happy to sink into.
No more Lance.
From here on out, the only man in my life was Max. And I’d keep him as long as I could.
Chapter 22
Max
One thing I didn’t consider before having copious amounts of filthy sex with my personal assistant, was how tempting it would be to call her into my office in the middle of the day to make more tawdry memories. It was like I could fe
el her presence, not twenty feet from where I sat. Just knowing that made my cock stiffen, and I shifted in my chair as I went through my emails and tried to ignore it.
I wasn’t sure if I was ready to cross that line yet, the line between having a relationship outside of the office and taking advantage of that relationship while we were both at work. It wasn’t appropriate, but I wasn’t sure how much longer that was going to put me off.
Emma was wearing a tight blouse today that showed off more cleavage than normal, and the thought of lowering my face to suck on those swollen globes made me too horny to stand. It wouldn’t have to take long. I could call her in here right now, open her blouse and have my way with her. Within ten minutes I could have her fucked and sent back on her way. Nobody would be the wiser. And if someone did suspect? Who fucking cared. I was the boss, and if I wanted to fuck my assistant in my office then I was going to.
My hand hovered over the intercom button. Was thinking with my dick a good idea in this situation?
Just as I was about to press the button and call Emma in, she buzzed me.
“Max, Jeremy is here to see you.”
I was nearly about to ask her to send him in, resettling in my chair to hide my erection, when he burst through the door. Emma trailed behind him, her pretty face marred by a scowl.
“I’m sorry, I tried to stop him.” She glared sourly at Jeremy. “He would not be stopped.”
“Not a very good gatekeeper, are you?” Jeremy joked, ruffling her hair.
Since Emma and I had officially become a couple, Jeremy had started treating her less like a member of my staff and more like a little sister. I could tell it vexed Emma to no end. Jeremy was a dick of a brother.
“You know the drill. I shouldn’t have to physically stop you from coming in,” she complained.
Jeremy winked slyly at her. “Hey, how’s Willow doing?”
Emma groaned and turned on her heel, closing the door behind her with just a bit more force than necessary. I laughed at the exchange.
“One of these days she’s going to punch you.”
“And one of these days I’m going to be very surprised and impressed,” he replied tartly, folding himself onto the chair in front of my desk.
Excitement shone like sunbeams from his face. Whatever had brought him barging in here must have been big, because he’d been sitting for a few seconds now and so far hadn’t touched a single thing on my desk.
“So, go on.” I waved a hand in his direction. “You have my undivided attention.”
Jeremy wiggled his eyebrows. “You know the Bertrand Group?”
“Can’t say I’m familiar.”
“Well you should be.” Jeremy picked up a pencil and started rolling it between his fingers. “They’re one of the largest luxury hotel chains in the Caribbean. Or at least they were.”
I cocked a brow. “What happened?”
“Life happened.” He snapped the pencil in two, evidently to add to the drama of the charade. “They’re downsizing and selling off some of their properties. It’s a huge opportunity for Goodman-Westfield.”
I didn’t need Jeremy to tell me that. I’d been looking at branching out our assets into hotels and resorts for some time now. It was the next logical step in my desire to expand the company rather than simply maintaining my father’s empire. Expanding profits was one thing, but I wanted to grow capital. This could be big.
“Much as I wish you would leave my office supplies unscathed when you come visit,” I said, sending a pointed look at the broken pencil pieces he was now fiddling with. “I do appreciate the news. How soon are they looking to sell?”
Jeremy grinned. “As soon as possible.”
“Then I’d better get moving. Can you forward me the details and I’ll get Emma to start making travel arrangements?”
Jeremy nodded, but made no move to leave. Seeing that he clearly wasn’t finished, I leaned back in my chair and waited.
“You’re going to have to charm the current owner, Baldric Hammond,” he told me.
“That’s why I’m going myself and not sending you to do it for me.” The hint of irritation in my voice was more than enough to let him know I didn’t appreciate being told how to run my business.
He chuckled. “Just trying to help. The competition for the properties is going to be fierce. I know of at least two large firms considering them right now, though nobody has actually met with Hammond yet to talk details.”
“Then I’ll be the first to do so.” I waved him off. “Go send me the details. If I’m dropping everything to head to the Caribbean, I’m going to need all the time I have to prepare.”
Jeremy was evidently dissatisfied with this. All he wanted to do when he was in a good mood was hang out, which was fun after we’d won a case in court, but frustrating when I still had other things I needed to do. He set the broken pencil pieces down on my desk and stood, adjusting his tie.
“Well, you know where I am if you need me.”
“Indeed I do.” I grabbed the pencil pieces and tossed them in the trash.
Just as Jeremy reached the door I called out to him, and he paused before he opened it, looking at me expectantly.
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate you keeping an eye out for stuff like this.”
Jeremy gave a solemn nod. He knew how much it meant to me, and he also knew how hard I worked to pursue my goals. It was just one of the many things I liked about him, though sometimes the list of things I didn’t like seemed much longer. Case in point, him stealing a glass paperweight from my bookcase on his way out the door. I would get it back eventually. Probably.
“Emma,” I called through the intercom. “Could you come into my office, please.”
Emma arrived in the doorway a moment later, smiling pleasantly. “Jeremy sure seemed excited. What’s up?”
“An opportunity,” I said, standing.
She closed the door and walked toward the desk. “What kind of opportunity?”
“The opportunistic kind.”
I grinned and walked around the desk to pull her into my arms before she could protest. She tried to wiggle free, but I was stronger, and soon she gave into the hug and leaned her head against my chest.
Emma was always so funny about how we acted at work, even though it was common knowledge we were together. She thought it was unwise to be so open about our relationship, but I knew better. Half the people in this building weren’t people at all, but vipers poised to strike as soon as they got the next juicy bit of gossip. It was better to be up front with it, even if it was awkward at times.
I pulled back from Emma and pecked her on the lips. She smiled.
“We’re going on a business trip,” I said. “Do you have a bikini?”
Emma flushed. “As my boss, I don’t think you’re allowed to ask that.”
I chuckled. “I’m not asking as your boss.” I nuzzled my face back in her hair, kissing her crown. “I’m asking as the man who’s taking you out tonight and fucking you within an inch of your life when we get home.”
She gasped and automatically looked behind her, as if someone could walk in at any moment. I was sure this anxiety would wear off eventually, but it was good to know that any sordid encounters in the office would take some building up to.
When she turned back, Emma’s eyes were dark and her lips were parted just a little, like she was waiting for my kiss. There was way too much to accomplish today for me to take them right now, though Lord knows I wanted to.
“So, baby, do you have a bikini?”
She shook her head.
I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket and grabbed a few bills, pressing them into her palm. Her eyes widened and she tried to give the money back, but I put my hands up and stepped away.
“It’s just a bathing suit,” I told her.
She frowned. “There’s like three hundred dollars here. That’s way too much to buy a swimsuit.”
I sank back down behind my desk and clicked into my em
ail. Jeremy’s message with the details of the company had already arrived, and I opened it with a small smile. The resort we needed to visit in order to meet with Baldric Hammond was in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. Nice.
“Then buy some new clothes, too,” I said.
She put a defiant hand on her hip. “I don’t need any new clothes.”
I caught her gaze, all traces of humor gone from my face. “You will after I rip yours off you tonight for being so bad at taking direction.”
Emma’s face flashed bright red and she swallowed hard. I could see how aroused she was just from the way her fist tightened around the wad of cash, and how her thighs reflexively clenched. My cock was instantly hard again, but this time I really did need to work.
“If you need anything else, you know where to find me,” Emma said, spinning on her heel and making a hasty retreat.
This was a good day. If my mother and I weren’t fighting, she’d be happy with this too. Soon enough, the Goodman-Westfield brand would be bigger than ever, and the only thing standing in my way was a spot of competition and a couple thousand miles of ocean.
I could do that. I could win this. In many ways, I was not my father’s son, but in this way, I always would be.
Chapter 23
Emma
The warm, humid breeze tickled the hairs on the back of my neck, sending a shiver through my body. Still, I didn’t move an inch. I was completely in the zone, laser focused on the little boat bobbing a couple hundred yards away from shore on waves like rolling sapphires.
I couldn’t see anybody on it, and I liked to imagine that it was abandoned. It seemed more beautiful that way, even though I knew nobody would just leave a perfectly good boat out on the water like that for no reason.
That was what I liked about drawing, though. That boat had a story, one that I might never know, but my drawing would always have a story I was intimately familiar with. Nobody but me decided how the picture would come out, and I could do whatever I wanted with it. In my drawing, the boat was full of mystery and intrigue. It was waiting.
Room Service Page 32