Broken Headboards: Nights In New York Series Book 3

by Starr, Tara

  I won’t do it. I can’t do it.

  And that because...

  One.

  I have one certainty. Austin and I are meant to be.

  It’s silly, yes, and it’s hard to describe.

  But I’ll try.

  See, I’ve never been the kind of woman to lose her cool, or to follow her heart, but with Austin...it’s hard not to.

  Every time we’re together, I feel whole.

  For the first time in my life, I don’t feel as if I have to prove anything to anyone. I can just be myself. All I need is to be around him, to feel his fingers laced on mine, his lips diving straight toward my mouth...and his body, pressed tight against mine. That’s all I need to feel whole.

  But that’s what my heart says.

  My mind tells a different story.

  Two.

  There are two opposing sides battling it out inside me right now.

  There’s love, and then there’s...fear.

  In the end, Austin and I are enemies on the battleground, and we’ll still have to face each other when the final day of the competition arrives. And, really, am I willing to give up on everything I’ve ever dreamed about just because my heart tells me to? I’ve never been stupid enough to think with my heart, and I’m not about to start now.

  Even though I love him—because, let’s be real, that’s what this is—I can’t stop myself from being the same old me. The ambitious, ruthless Tess Armstrong that somehow made it when no one else could.

  I won’t give up on all that just because of a man. But, at the same time, I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

  The only thing I’m sure of, is that I’ve fallen in love.

  And I’ve fallen hard.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Austin

  One hundred.

  There are one hundred clients under the Oakmont name. Meaning, I work directly with one hundred businesses and cater to their various furnishing needs. Some date back to the early days, when my great grandfather was around, while others have been recently attained by yours truly.

  And, honestly, it’s probably more than a hundred at any given time. Some people argue that one company can’t handle it all and do it well, but, baby, would I be here if we couldn’t? That’s what Oakmont is known for, we know how to handle any client and can deliver any project—it’s one of our specialties.

  Sure, there’ve been some complaints, but to be successful in any industry, you’re going to ruffle a few feathers. I know I’ve definitely ruffled more than my share. But they always come crawling back, one way or another.

  And, I know, my reputation precedes me. But the only reputation I truly care about is the one attached to Oakmont. People can think whatever they want about me, like that I have a constant parade of women spreading their legs for me every morning, noon, and night—rumors always have a bit of truth in them after all—but as long as their satisfied with my work, then that’s all that matters.

  Although recently, my parade is gradually dwindling down into a one woman show.

  Two.

  Oakmont has had two competitors in its lifetime. Both of which have the power to uproot the life of everyone who gets an Oakmont Furniture Inc. paycheck every month.

  You know me, I don’t take competition lightly.

  When everyone and their damn brother moved their factories over to China to cut overhead costs, it almost tanked us—because we never wanted to take our jobs or our company out of America. We’re born and raised in the US and our furniture is too and always will be. We never had any intention of leaving our home. But because of that we scraped by, which meant cutting costs wherever we could. Yeah we owned our own business but our lives were never glamorous. Nothing like what my life is today. The moment I took over, everything changed. I revamped our business model and made some hard calls—ones that my father and grandfather never approved of—but it worked out for the best. If it wasn’t for me we’d still be the mom and pop shop barely making it.

  And now, that I’ve had a taste of this life and how it feels like to be the fucking King with his own empire, there’s no way in hell I’m going back.

  Then there’s Domina Designs and its headmistress Tess Armstrong. They’re—well—she is our only serious competitor. And not just in the competition for Clarendon Tower—Domina is a serious contender in the industry. Another few years and they’ll be as big as Oakmont. They’ve impacted a few of my sales in the past by steering a few clients over to them or low-balling us in other business venues. I told you she’s always been a thorn in my side.

  In the Clarendon Tower competition she’s making me fucking work for it. I never thought this contest would be as close as it is. We’re going into the last round fucking tied—30 to 30.

  But I have a feeling, even after this, she’ll have an effect on me. Tess is already doing shit to my head no one has ever done before.

  Ten.

  We’ve officially been out on seven dates, but I count all the little times too. The drinks after the first Board meeting in the lounge, a random encounter at the gym, and a glance in the hallway. I count everything when it comes to her.

  See… she’s fucking with my head.

  That’s what makes this so hard. Any other competition and I would be guns-a-blazing, not thinking twice about destroying anyone. I would leave them in the dust and stand Rocky-style on their ashes. Ok, I’m not that maniacal, but I do fucking love winning.

  But don’t get me wrong, I’m also not saying that I’m going easy on her and letting her win. Fuck that. I didn’t lose my mind completely. But with every round, a twinge of guilt nags at me and it keeps growing with every step I take forward. It’s not a feeling I’m used to because I live to win but I don’t fucking like it one bit.

  Why did I have to fall for my competition?

  Fifty.

  That’s how many times Tess has said my name. And, I’m that fucking sap who loves hearing it roll off her tongue. I never in my wildest fucking dreams would’ve thought that I’d be saying these types of things, but here the fuck I am, confessing my feelings. Jesus Christ have the tides changed. It still doesn’t sit well me.

  But my favorite moment of Tess saying “Austin” is when she moans it. It’s mid-orgasm and her body shudders in bliss around me—on top or underneath me—and she sighs against my skin. I’m telling you it’s become a starring feature in my highlight reel. Tess is so much better than a fucking half-baked sex montage in my head. I can’t get enough of everything about her.

  Or even when she just announces my presence in a room, greeting me in the lobby or at a restaurant. I only want to hear my name fall from her lips. I need to commission her to make my own theme song really.

  Two.

  I’ve watched two friends of mine change their ways. Almost three, if you count Taylor and his fling with Ashley.

  I’ve stood next to two of my boys on their wedding days watching them devote and commit their life to a one woman. There fucking batshit crazy…that’s what I thought at least. I never understood it. Yeah Serena and Sonia are smoking hot with slick tongues—but it’s still fucking forever.

  How can you just give up your life for woman?

  I’ve asked them when I’m trying to figure out how they changed so dramatically from being my wingmen jizzing all over New York—sometimes, literally—to fucking one woman and expecting a child. It’s mind-boggling.

  But what they’ve said is beginning to make sense. A woman you can spar with. Your equal. A woman who keeps you on your toes.

  For me that’s definitely Tess.

  And I’ve thought about it. Maybe this competition is the only reason why I find her so attractive. She’s been able to beat me when no one has before, and she holds her own—in and out of the bedroom.

  But even outside of the competition I’m captivated by her. I can’t stop thinking about her and I fucking hate it.

  This is not me.

  I like women for what they have to offer temp
orarily not multiple times over. The only thing I like doing again and again is furniture.

  And now apparently Tess too.

  Twenty.

  Speaking of Tess, she’s grabbed my arm and held onto me like nothing else in the world mattered.

  Fuck. I want her hands on me. I want her wild like she gets when we fuck. I want Tess to scratch me, dig her fingers nails into my back, press her heels against my ass…I like it when she’s rough. I fight back. God, our sex is fucking electric. If I’m not thinking about her ass bouncing away from me, then I’m thinking about it bobbing up and down on my cock.

  It hasn’t been good for business but at least I’m keeping my eye on the competition. Even if it’s not in the way I should be eyeing it, but everyone’s diversion and tactics are different. I didn’t become the Austin Randall of Oakmont by doing what I should do. Listening to what other people did. I became the fucking King because I paved my own path.

  And I think I’ve found someone else who’s done the same.

  One.

  There’s one thing that’s getting in my way though. And there’s also only one thing I need to focus on.

  The Clarendon Tower Contract.

  The fucking competition.

  It’s the one thing that’s getting in between Tess and me. The one thing we both want and the one thing that’ll keep us apart. I want this, and I will do whatever it takes to win the competition. Which means I have to forget about Tess. To push all my thoughts, feelings, whatever the fuck aside and focus on the prize. I can’t let her distract me.

  And when I win—which will happen—it’ll be the one thing that has the potential to end us forever.

  Even if we’re in some alternate universe where she wins I will always remember it. She’ll represent a blow to my ego and I can’t say I’d be able to get over that regardless of how secure in my manhood I am.

  I love her—Jesus Christ—but unfortunately for this book, love isn’t as powerful as we thought. It won’t get rid of the fact that there’ll always be one thing—a $2 billion wedge between us—that separates us.

  It brought us together but it’ll always keep us apart.

  Even after the competition ends.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Taylor

  One of the best joys I have after a long day of work is to be able to go to the gym and work out all the stress in my body.

  Its how I stay in peak physical shape after all. I’m a perfect male specimen. When I’m at the gym I’m focused and I’m getting results. I’m used to the stares I get from the women who lick their lips because they want to fuck me. Yeah, keep looking. I’m getting my body ripped and staying at the height of health.

  As you can imagine, I’m pretty fucking beat when I get back to my condo. I use the GymSpaSium that’s attached to Clarendon Tower. It’s the most comprehensive and elite of all gyms in the city and its run by my good friend Colt McCoy.

  But one thing I don’t do at the GymSpaSium is shower. Which means I’m a stinky mess when I walk in the door this evening.

  I need to shower and get ready. I have another date with Ashley tonight. This time we’re going to a Japanese teppanyaki place in the Lower East Side. It’s supposedly all the rage and I can’t wait to get Ashley alone.

  Obviously the last time we went to dinner we got a little side tracked with the whole Jeremiah Hoody thing that started this whole man versus woman furniture mogul mess. But tonight I’m going to fuck Ashley.

  Hell if things go well I could see Ashley becoming my girlfriend.

  But I don’t want to jump the gun just yet. I’m still an independent bachelor. A very fucking eligible bachelor at that. Having an exclusive girlfriend at this point might cramp my style a bit.

  But let’s face it. Ashley is one hell of a woman.

  I mean, she’s got it all. She’s got a cute fucking body. It’s fucking gorgeous. Those tits I could just suck on for days. But her slender body leads to an amazing ass. It’s luscious and tight. Her legs are insanely beautiful. Her face is like an angel.

  But it’s not just her fucking body that makes me think about her nonstop.

  It’s her mind. I’ve never had banter with a chick like I do with her.

  I’ve never had a girl that I can’t stop thinking about. I know she’s a strong woman. And I love that about her. It makes it like dealing with an equal—not someone who won’t have any opinion and be fucking subservient to everything I say.

  In a way it reminds me of Tess and Austin.

  Those two might be fighting it out for who gets to outfit Clarendon Tower but it seems that Austin and Tess have a deeper connection than I ever thought possible.

  I mean Tess is hot. There’s no fucking doubt about that. And Austin has never had a problem with catching women’s eyes. They would be really good together. I see that. I’m pretty sure Ashley sees that.

  So why don’t they see that?

  Why don’t they see that they’re pretty much the same type of person. Both of them are strong alpha personalities. They’re both larger than life. They’re both committed to doing anything to win.

  It’s like they were fucking made for each other.

  I’m in my condo contemplating this as I look through my phone when there’s a knock at my door.

  It’s one of the interns from Draper Pierce. He’s drops off a file he’s been researching that I requested that I’ve been waiting for all day.

  Want to know what it is? Well, baby, you’re not going to believe this.

  I have in my hands the secret weapon that’s going to help Austin win this contest that he’s going through right now. See, Austin is my boy I’d do anything for. He asked me to help him find some resources. So of course I’m going to hook him up.

  Sure Tess might be nice and all but Austin and I go way back–all the way to when he first moved into Clarendon Tower. I’ve always known he was a driven dude but seeing him put in the hours in his company and turn that shit around I couldn’t help but to feel respect for the guy and his work ethic.

  And once I started to hang out with him and get to know him, I realized he was just an overall fun guy.

  I look through the file.

  Giovanni Giannoni is the premier bedroom furniture designer in the world. His designs can be seen everywhere from Buckingham Palace to the White House. Donald Trump used his designs to outfit Trump Tower when he first built it. Throughout the world, this dude has designed bedrooms for houses and sets that the super-elite have celebrated. Kings and queens. Heads of state. Corporate chieftains. You fucking name it, he’s done it.

  He’s very famous for designing bedroom sets. And his signature piece is the headboard. The guy is like the Picasso of headboards. Some of his shit goes for millions of dollars by the time a manufacturer is lined up to produce his pieces. He’s notoriously hard to track down and very particular about who he works with.

  So if Austin plays his cards right, then some of that million dollar design work will come to Clarendon Tower because Oakmont can manufacture it.

  Think of how amazing that shit would look in this condo. We’d be the envy of not just New York City but the entire fucking world.

  I’m thinking of what it’ll be like to go to a party where I meet a cute chick who asks me where I live. I’d tell her Clarendon Tower. Her eyes would go fucking big and she’d go on about how she heard it was the most celebrated building in the city.

  But every time I try to imagine who the girl I’m talking to would be…it’s Ashley.

  Which really kind of makes this daydream fucking confusing because I mean Ashley already lives here, you know?

  Just as I’m thinking this, I hear another knock at the door.

  This time it’s Ashley.

  “Are you still not ready yet?” she asks with a smile.

  I look at the time as I reply, “You’re at least an hour early.”

  “Maybe I wanted to catch you mid-prep,” she says as she walks in, giving me a chance to look at her a
ss. She’s wearing a short and tight black dress that really hugs her curves in a way that leaves almost nothing to the imagination.

  Looking at her…wow. I have no fucking words.

  “You look fucking gorgeous,” I tell her, taking a step closer.

  “And you look fucking sweaty,” she tells me, taking a step towards my kitchen with a smirk. “Now go get ready!”

  I’m a bit surprised that she came over this early. Does she not know this is a date? Wouldn’t she want to wait and see me at my best?

  “You want to join me?” I ask, smiling broadly.

  I can see Ashley look me up and down and I know she likes what she sees.

  “It took me forever to get into this dress,” she says coyly.

  “It’ll take me just a minute to get you out of it,” I tell her.

  “But then we’d never leave,” she hits back.

  “And?” I ask, taking another step closer.

  “Well I’m hungry,” she answers.

  I take a deep breath. I can smell her perfume. It’s driving me insane.

  “I can give you something to put in your mouth,” I say, looking her in the eyes.

  There’s a moment between us. Her eyes are blinking as she looks at me with a sideways grin, playing out a Morse code of desire and lust.

  “Okay, horndog,” she says finally, clearly conflicted. “Go get ready. Shower!”

  She pushes me away, but her hands linger for a just a second longer than they need to.

  I put my file down on the kitchen counter. “Yes ma’am,” I say with a laugh and head to the shower.

  My cock is as hard as a fucking rock.

  I’ll get Taylor the Giovanni file tomorrow.

  Tonight, it’s time to get ready for an evening with Ashley.

  Who…yes, might just be the one.

  Chapter Twenty-Six