Boss Games: Boss #7

by Victoria Quinn

  I didn’t do vulnerability. I didn’t do emotion. Very few people saw that deeper side of me, and the only people who witnessed it were my family. I wore my heart on my sleeve with Diesel and Tatum because it was necessary. I now told Brett things I should have told him a long time ago. When it came to them, there was no holding back. But the world didn’t deserve the same from me. “No one other outlet has ever written a piece like that because it’s not something I’m interested in. I do my job, make my money, and then go home. I’m not obligated to share every thought, every feeling, with anyone.” I held her gaze despite the cold statement I’d just made. She seemed like a woman with good intentions. She was honest and up front, and I appreciated that. But didn’t mean I would give her what she wanted.

  She didn’t show a single reaction, obviously unaffected by my callous response. “Mr. Ammo, you’re the one driving this car. We can go in any direction you choose. I’m just the tour guide. But I think an article like this would be beneficial to you. I understand you don’t want to share every aspect of your life with readers or strangers because it’s none of their business. Your personal life is separate from your business enterprise. But the world always watches every move you make. They’re fascinated by your success, your looks, and your presence. They’re hungry for more of you, regardless. At least now you can give them a piece of yourself—on your own terms. I don’t need to mention the problems with Diesel because it’s already the elephant in the room. You don’t need to defend your side of the story, but you could explain it. This is an opportunity for you for to increase your standing, to show the world that the man underneath the suit is just as powerful as the man who wears it. That’s just my advice…but you can do whatever you want.”

  It was the second time she’d pushed me, but she didn’t cross the line and override my power. A lot of things she mentioned were true. People were obsessed with me. They were sharing gossip instead of facts. At least I could set the record straight.

  “You can give me a list of topics that are off-limits. I won’t ask you about them.” She pulled a small notepad out of her purse with a pen. “Then we’ll start the interview.” She held the pen to the paper. “So what are they, Mr. Ammo?”

  My eyes shifted to her slender hand, seeing the tight skin. Her age didn’t show in her hands, only in subtle places in her face. I turned my gaze back to her, seeing the dark eyes that were filled with gentle power. “My late wife. She’s off-limits.” She was the love of my life, and I didn’t discuss something so personal with anyone. Even my own sons rarely heard me mention her. Losing her was the hardest suffering I’d ever endured. It’d been over a decade, but I’d never gotten over it. My memories of her and our life together were mine. I guarded them greedily, like they were buried treasure.

  Scarlet didn’t hesitate before she made her note. “Anything else?”

  I was willing to discuss anything else but Isabela. She was the only thing I couldn’t compromise on. Nothing else seemed to matter. “No.”

  Her eyebrow rose slightly, and she set her pen down. “Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Ammo.”

  I wasn’t sure why I did.

  She grabbed the recorder and pressed her thumb into the button. It started to record. “You’re one of the top ten richest people in the world with a net worth of over sixty billion dollars. It’s the kind of success most people will never even dream of. What has been the biggest contributor to your success?”

  It was a stale question, the kind I got all the time. “I worked hard. Before I went to college, I knew I wanted to be an entrepreneur. I’d been fascinated by business, but not just running a company or working for one. I wanted to start something that would live long after I died. I wanted to be remembered for something. Immortality is something that motivates a great deal. I work so hard in life to secure my station in death.”

  The waiter brought our drinks then walked off again. Scarlet didn’t react to his presence, her eyes glued to mine. She must have anticipated my answer, but she still seemed genuinely interested by it. “What do you love most about it? And what do you hate the most?”

  “I love the power. When I want something, I get it. People are aware of my presence the instant I walk into a room. I have the ability to make anything happen. But, as they say, with great power comes great responsibility. I think I handle that well. What I hate most is being in the public eye. People think they know me based on who I’m dating or what suit I wear. Honestly, no one really knows me.”

  Scarlet didn’t touch her glass of wine. It was deep red, almost purple. I wondered if she would leave a lipstick mark once she took a drink. It was a stupid thought to have, and I didn’t know why I had it. She seemed more interested in me than taking a drink. “You’re very particular about your suits. It’s rumored that you never wear the same one twice. Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why is that?”

  “My suits are my image. They heighten my presence and exemplify my power. They also complement my mood. I never feel the same way on any given day, so I never wear the same suit. They’re my most important possession, and they can change the outcome of business indirectly. There’s no greater feeling than putting on a new suit, still crisp from the designer. That’s a luxury I allow myself.”

  “And what do you do with the suits once you’re done wearing them?”

  “Donate them.”

  She slightly nodded before she finally took a drink. Lipstick smeared on the glass, deep red like blood. She set it down again, her slender fingers wrapped around the stem. “Where do you donate them?”

  “The United War Veterans Council. They distribute them to vets and other people looking for work. They wear them to their interviews. It’s part of their rehabilitation program. And like I said before, the right suit can make you feel like you’re worth billions—even if you aren’t. It can change the game, change your confidence.”

  She didn’t pull out a list of notes during our interview. In fact, it felt more like a conversation than an interrogation. Scarlet didn’t seem like an editor getting a story her readers would want to read. She seemed like someone who wanted the truth—not some romanticized lie. Perhaps that was why Platform had the biggest list of subscribers in the media world.

  “Your sons, Diesel and Jax Ammo, have followed in your footsteps. Did you push them to be successful businessmen as well? Or was that something they cultivated on their own?”

  People usually asked questions about my own success. They didn’t seem to care about my relationship with my two sons. We were very different people. “I’ve always been close to Diesel and Jax. Once they became adults, our relationship shifted from parent and child and turned into a friendship. I know both of them look up to me in a lot of ways, and I suspect I have a lot to do with their motivations. But honestly, I pushed them a lot too. It was important to me to raise fine men, the kind of men that could stand on their own two feet and take care of their own family. Not only did I succeed, but they exceeded all of my expectations. They’re much better versions of myself.”

  Scarlet gave me a smile. “You sound proud.”

  “I’m proud of all my sons—especially Brett.” I didn’t talk about him much, and I needed to do it more. He carried a different last name, but he was a member of my family. Brett and I had started a new relationship, but we still had a lot of work to do. “He started from nothing. I didn’t help him with his business, and he figured out a way to achieve his goals on his own. Now he’s one of the biggest car designers in the industry, and he’s made millions.”

  “Diesel told his version of your broken relationship a few months ago. You’ve obviously made up and have moved forward, which is great to hear. But is there anything else you’d like to share? Has that experience taught you something that you can impart to others? Family is the most important thing in the world—but it can also be the most toxic.”

  She put it beautifully. Some families were perfect and didn’t have a single bump i
n the road, but most weren’t like that. There were difficult times, horrifying times. “My estrangement from my son had nothing to do with love. I’ve always loved him with everything I have. I’d sacrifice my life for his in a heartbeat. I still remember the first time I held him in my arms. It’s hard to believe he was ever that small considering his size now…he’s just as big as I am. Our separation was entirely my fault, and I admit that with no shame.”

  “Would you mind telling us what happened?”

  “Diesel’s story isn’t far from the truth. I didn’t treat Brett with the love he deserved. It drove him away, and it also pushed Diesel away as well. He didn’t tolerate my treatment of Brett, so he left. I’m proud of him for the decision he made. He stood up for someone when he could have taken the easy way out—but he didn’t.” My life would have been so different if I hadn’t let my jealousy and pain get to me. But I had, and this was my reality.

  “I loved my wife in a way I can never explain. Our relationship was intense, beautiful…and so many other things. My love for her made me a very jealous man. Knowing she’d loved someone else had always tortured me. Knowing she’d been with someone else when we could have had more time together always haunted me. So I resented Brett because of it…she made him with another man she loved. I should have taken him in as my own, but that’s not what happened. It was impossible for me to look at him at not think of his father…” My eyes remained trained on hers even though the tension filled the air between us. I was brutally honest with my confession, no longer caring what people thought of me. I’d committed my actions, and now I had to face the consequences. “I realized how wrong I was and I’ve worked to repair my relationship with him. He’s a man now, old enough that he doesn’t need a father. But I want him in my life. It’s not just because my wife is disappointed in me. It’s because I want to get back the time we lost.”

  “Thank you for sharing. You sound like a father who’s willing to do anything for his family.”

  “I am—even if that means admitting I was wrong. Before I had kids, I imagined having a family would be easy. It would be simple and fulfilling. But as I aged, I realized being a parent is the most difficult job you’ll ever have. It’s unpredictable, heartbreaking, and stressful. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, despite my experience in so many other areas. Nothing in life would have prepared me for the venture. Being a single parent only made the task even more difficult. But all I can do is apologize for my mistakes and never give up. I love my sons more than life itself, and I’m committed to being everything they need—at every stage of their lives. I won’t repeat my mistakes, and I’m going to enjoy every minute I have left with them. For other parents out there, times can be difficult. But it’s also the most rewarding thing you’ll ever do.”

  She hung on to my words even when I’d finished speaking. She gave a slight nod, her expression hard as she concentrated on my face. “Well said, Mr. Ammo. I have a daughter, and it’s been good as well as bad.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s a junior in college. I had her very young…”

  I was curious to know how old she was, but it felt like an inappropriate question. “Then I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yes…I do.” She sipped her wine again, taking a bigger drink this time. “Were you surprised when Diesel told you he was engaged to Tatum Titan?”

  “No.” I was the one who pushed him to marry her. “And he made the best decision of his life.”

  “Sounds like you’ve already welcomed her into the family.”

  “Yes. She already feels like a daughter.”

  “The shooting rocked the entire nation…how has it affected you?”

  It affected me in a million ways. Tatum was a wonderful person who didn’t deserve that, and my son didn’t deserve to be in pain. It was so chilling it froze me right down to the bone. “The incident has shed light on the way some men still view women. Bruce Carol’s vendetta only shows that some men refuse to give a professional woman the respect she deserves. If he can’t beat her, then he needs to destroy her. Instead of acknowledging that the better businessperson won, he hated her for her fierce intelligence. He wanted her to be prey—and stay prey. It’s sickening, and I’m glad Tatum killed him.” It was a risky thing to say in an interview, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care how that statement would make Mrs. Carol feel or her children. If Tatum hadn’t killed him first, she’d be the one in a graveyard. “I’m proud of her for the way she handled the situation. Not too many people would have had the courage to stare down their gunman the way she stared him down. And even when she was bleeding out of her chest, she didn’t stop fighting. She kept going until she won. She’s a role model to all of us—not just women. It’s difficult for me to see such a strong person confined to a bed, to know they’re fighting for their life in surgery as I sit in the waiting room. But her recovery has been remarkable, and it just shows that the darkness can’t last forever. The light will return—and it’ll shine brighter than it did before.” I was proud of Tatum for continuing to live her life with the same dignity as before. She didn’t flinch at loud noises, and she wasn’t afraid to go back to work. She refused to let the trauma affect her mental state of being, and she obviously didn’t feel any remorse for taking a man’s life—not that she should. I was proud of her in the way every father should be proud of his daughter. She refused to be the victim—and she did it with grace.

  Scarlet watched me for a long time, letting my final response fill the air. She didn’t ask another question, and when she reached for the recorder on the table, I knew the interview was over. “Thank you, Mr. Ammo. I think our readers will be fascinated by this story—I know I am.” She placed the recorder in her clutch then cleared her throat. “I’ll have my crew contact your team to set up the photo shoot. And I’ll give you my article before I publish it, just to make sure you approve of it.”

  No one had ever offered that to me before. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Ammo. I know you’re a very busy man.” She prepared to stand up.

  We hadn’t gotten our lunch yet, and normally, that wouldn’t matter to me. The sooner I could leave, the better. Pointless conversations about work never ceased to bore me. But my body stayed in the chair because I didn’t want to leave. “Have somewhere to be?”

  “No. But I’m sure you do.” She stood up, a strand of hair coming loose and falling in front of her face.

  I nodded back to the chair. “Have lunch with me.”

  “Are you sure?” She opened her clutch and prepared to put the cash on the table for the meal she never received.

  If she sat down again, a conversation would ensue. I could go back to my office and get some work done so I could go home early, but I wanted to stay in that exact spot. It was the first time I wanted to have a conversation—even if it was pointless. Even with my ladies, I didn’t spend much time talking to them. Sometimes they talked and I listened, but it was usually with partially deaf ears.

  But I wanted her to stay. “I’m sure.”

  11

  Diesel

  Her wrists were so slender, so soft. I kissed the inside of each one before I raised them above her head. Her black panties were wet—soaked because of me. I wrapped the lace around her wrists before I secured them to the headboard.

  Now she couldn’t go anywhere.

  No one could take her away from me.

  She lay on her back, her firm tits pointed right at me. The skin of her chest was flushed pink, and her eyes showed the same desire that was throbbing in my cock. She didn’t fight me because she wanted me to possess her. She wanted me to claim all of her, every single inch of her body.

  I couldn’t be rough with her, not yet. She was still injured, still recovering. The gauze around her chest had been changed, and now it covered less skin. Her normally flawless body still had faint scars that hadn’t faded completely. She was still prohibited from intense exercise, but that didn’t mean she could
just lay there—and let me have her.

  I folded her legs underneath me and positioned my cock against her entrance. The head of my length could feel the moisture ooze from her delectable pussy. I slowly pushed inside then slid as far as her channel would allow me.

  She inhaled a deep breath. Then she said my name, packed with uncontrollable passion. “Diesel…”

  I sank deep inside her and held myself on top of her, careful not to distribute any weight on her body. Our sex had been restricted to missionary, but I still enjoyed it immensely. As long as I got to have her, I was happy.

  Her ankles locked together around my waist, and she tugged on the lace panties that restrained her arms above her head.

  “Don’t. Move.” My hands dug into the sheets on either side of her, and I slowly thrust inside her, feeling her cream sheathe me all the way to my balls. She was full of thick arousal, coating my dick with both her desire and love.

  “Yes, Boss Man…”

  I never wanted someone to take her away from me again.

  I wanted to know she was there—wanted to feel she was there.

  Every day for the rest of my life.

  “Diesel. That’s how you address me.” I pressed my mouth to hers and sucked her sexy bottom lip. I’d wanted to be the boss man when she was just a woman I was sleeping with, but now she was so much more. She was the woman I’d committed my life to. I wanted her to call me by my name, a name very few people had the right to address me by.

  She kissed me back, her lips trembling. “Diesel…”

  I rocked into her a little harder, sometimes kissing her and sometimes breathing with her. My cock fell into her pussy, slathered in her arousal. My soul fell into hers at the same time, my heart growing bigger just for her. I’d never loved anyone the way I loved her. It was bigger than me, bigger than my world. She’d somehow stripped all the essentials away and showed me that money and possessions meant nothing—nothing compared to her.