Forced to Forget_Blackmailing the Billionaire Series

by Tasha Fawkes

  “Where do you want me?” she asks. “On my knees...or on your lap?”

  I somehow know this is going to be the hardest decision I make today.

  Chapter 23

  Jane

  “Are you sure we put the research and stats in the right place?” He’s pacing behind his desk the way his father does, hands clasped behind his back. I decide it’s better to keep that observation to myself at the moment.

  I tried my best to help him relax, but I know how much he has riding on this, so there's only so much I can do. Right now, it's time for some reassurance.

  “We’ve gone over it a million different ways. It’s perfect as it is. Everything is exactly how it should be.”

  Including him. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s looking like a million bucks. His suit fits like it was made for him, which I’m sure it was. He definitely plays the part of a self-assured, skilled advertising executive even when I know he’s plagued with doubt.

  “I’ll go first with the big ideas, then you can come in with the facts and figures. I’ll close it out. What do you think?” He glances at me as he continues to pace.

  “You want me to present with you?” My knees feel watery all of a sudden. Hell. No.

  “Why not? This is just as much yours as it is mine.” He looks genuinely perplexed by my surprise.

  “I don’t think so.”

  It’s a terrible idea. He just doesn’t see it at the moment. If we were to present together, he wouldn’t be able to take full credit for the work. He needs to get the credit if he’s ever going to be taken seriously. I’m sure I’ll have my time, someday. I didn't do any of this thinking my name would be on it.

  “You want me to go in there on my own?”

  Suddenly, that little boy I see from time to time is back, and this time it's as much fear as vulnerability that brings him out.

  I go to him, smoothing my hands over his lapels before resting them on his chest. A surge of emotion goes through me, strong enough to make something inside me hurt. I haven't said it to him yet, but I've known it since the first time we slept together.

  But now's not the time to tell him.

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I want you to do. This is your baby. Go in there and prove yourself. Not just to them, but to you.”

  He smiles and his eyes go soft and warm. I like him better this way. “Do me a favor, then,” he murmurs, taking me by the waist.

  “What’s that?”

  “Come in with me, at least. You don’t have to present, but I would feel a lot better if you were in there.”

  “Okay. I don’t think that would raise any eyebrows.” After all, I’m his assistant. It’s a little thrilling, too, the thought of watching our work on display. Of seeing all the effort pay off.

  He checks his Rolex. On anyone else, the move would seem pretentious, but on him, it's natural. “Okay. Time to go in.”

  We both take a deep breath and stride out of his office like there’s not a worry in the world. I’m so proud of him, and he hasn’t even started the presentation yet. As we walk past other James employees, eyes follow us, and a part of me wishes I could tell them all that he's mine.

  It's as much my choice as his that we aren't going public yet. Neither of us wants to deal with the stigma of the boss and assistant sleeping together. We want to wait until we're a bit more established. That's the smart thing to do, but it doesn't change the desire to stake my claim. At least when we pass Chloe, she gives me a conspiratorial wink, and I remember that there is at least one person with whom I can be completely honest.

  The conference room is full of suits when we arrive. Mr. James is there, too, an expectant look on his face. I recognize the man sitting to his right as well. He reminds me of a weasel, which is probably why his face has made an impression on me. I remember Anthony pointing him out to me a couple days ago. His cousin, Jerrod.

  And he hates me. Or, at least, resents my presence in the conference room. He stares as we walk in and Anthony introduces me as his assistant. I can just about feel the waves of displeasure coming from him. Terrific.

  Anthony doesn’t seem to notice, which is for the best. He has enough on his mind. I have to remind myself over and over not to mouth the presentation along with him as he runs through it. I don’t want anyone in here to know how much of a hand I’ve had in it. The Chambersmith guys might take it as me just having heard the presentation several times, but Mr. James and Jerrod would probably suspect more.

  From time to time, I tear my eyes away from Anthony and glance over at Mr. Chambersmith to find him smiling and nodding. I can see he loves our commercial ideas, the social media outreach plan—YouTube ads, Instagram campaigns, the whole nine yards. Together, Anthony and I came up with an entire series of posts that created a story from beginning to end, a series which will ideally influence followers to keep up with the story’s progression. Something to tug at the heartstrings while selling lots and lots of stationery.

  By the time he finishes by throwing out competitor numbers and their history in the markets we’re trying to connect with, Mr. Chambersmith is about ready to jump out of his chair. I can tell he wants to get started immediately, if not sooner. Mr. James, meanwhile, is trying as hard as he can to keep from beaming with pride. Jerrod looks like someone ruined Christmas, Santa Claus, and his birthday all at once.

  And Anthony. He shines like the sun. He’s in his element at the head of the table, commanding an entire room like he was born to do it. I can't deny that it's a major turn on. Then again, I find pretty much everything about Anthony a turn on. In less than two weeks, I've gone from virgin to sex fiend.

  Mr. Chambersmith stands, holding out a hand for Anthony to shake. “Young man, I’m impressed with you. I think I speak for all of us when I say that, too.”

  “That’s a yes, then?” Anthony asks with a dazzling smile.

  “Show me the contract, son.” They shake hands and the rest of the room, including me, breaks out into applause. Well, everyone except Jerrod. He looks like he’d rather swallow glass than congratulate his cousin. But no one's looking at him. All the attention is on Anthony.

  I slide a copy of the contract out from the folder in my lap and pass it across the table. My hands shake a little as I do. There are some pretty big numbers involved, in the multi-millions. Chambersmith signs like he’s signing a check in a restaurant.

  Oh, to have money like that.

  I look up and my eyes meet Anthony’s. I know the satisfaction in them is reflected in mine. He did it.

  Chapter 24

  Anthony

  I slap a porterhouse down on the grill and listen to it sizzle. It’s got to be one of the most satisfying sounds in life, I think. Up there with a great call for my team in hockey and hearing Jane moan my name. I’m not usually the guy to eat a porterhouse—too much cholesterol, that sort of thing—but I’m in the mood for meat. Something juicy. I’m victorious and really proud of myself for the first time in a long time.

  I’m also in my jockey shorts after a long and rather intense make-out session in my room which only came to an end when our stomachs rumbled. Jane ties an apron around my waist to keep me from getting hit with grease spatter, then kisses my bare shoulder. She moves around to my side and lifts a wine glass to my lips as I flip the vegetables sitting on the grill next to the beef. I savor the rich, full-bodied red wine almost as much as the taste of her mouth on mine. Maybe later I'll taste them both at the same time.

  “You’re incredible, you know that?” she whispers. Her eyes meet mine and the way they smolder just about undoes me. She’s in her underwear, one of my tailored shirts hanging open on her tiny frame so I can see hints of cleavage and red lace. She looks fragile and unbearably sexy all at once. The fragile bit is just appearance. I know all too well how strong she is. I remember taking strength from her during the meeting. Just knowing she was there, watching and supporting me, made all the difference. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me. My hand
s find her body even though they should really be taking care of dinner.

  The food doesn’t seem that important as I take her mouth. My tongue slips between her lips, and I learn that the combination of the wine and her is indeed as heady as I expected. I'll have to try it on some other body parts.

  I lift her onto the island across from the stove and relish the tightening of her legs around my waist as the kiss deepens. She's just as eager for me as I am for her, and the knowledge that a woman this amazing wants me makes me feel more powerful than anything I've ever done.

  Her fingers tangle in my hair, then work on the knot she just tied to undo the apron. As it falls to the floor, she presses her face against my bare chest, raining kisses across my skin. When her teeth worry at my nipple, I groan. I smell the steak burning just before burying my face between her breasts and inhaling a much sweeter scent.

  She's like a fucking drug. I can't get enough of her.

  She groans, holding my head to her breasts as I began to lick and bite my way across her flesh until I find one tight nipple. She wriggles against me, rubbing my thickening dick against the crotch of her increasingly wet panties, and soon we’re humping through our underwear, breathless, hands and mouths all over each other. I suck on her nipple harder this time, and her back arches as she groans in satisfaction.

  “Screw this,” I mutter as I lift her in my arms.

  A quick flick of the wrist turns off the stove. Not in time to save our food, but at least preventing a fire. A lost dinner is one thing. I don't feel like having the fire department interrupt my night. I can afford to replace some steak and vegetables.

  I carry her to the bedroom and throw her onto the bed. She squeals softly, giggling, but that giggle dies when she feels my hands gliding up from ankle to thigh. I peel off her panties and waste no time getting a condom ready. We've done enough foreplay, and the dark look on her face tells me she agrees. I’m rock hard by the time I settle between her legs.

  Just before I slide into her, she puts her hands on my chest. I give her a puzzled look until she gives me a little push. I grin as I grab her waist and spin us around so she's on top of me.

  “Let me do the work,” she whispers against my lips.

  Then she pushes herself up on her knees, letting my shirt fall open to expose those gorgeous breasts of hers. She reaches underneath her and wraps her fist around my cock. I start to groan, but it turns into a curse as she begins to lower herself onto me.

  “Anthony, fuck. Oh, fuck!” Her curses are almost as sweet as the sensation of sliding into that tight sheath.

  So tight.

  Her eyes are closed by the time she's taken all of me, her palms flat on my stomach, nails biting into my skin. I love watching her like this, how she abandons all pretenses, drops all of her walls and inhibitions. I reach up and palm her breasts, kneading them, teasing her nipples between finger and thumb. She rides me fast and hard, her pussy squeezing me as I feel her thigh muscles flexing against my waist.

  I can feel myself closing in on my release, and I know she's not quite there yet, so I drop one of my hands and press my thumb against her clit. I make quick back and forth movements, taking her to the edge as fast as she's taking me. I still get there first, white-hot pleasure coursing through me. But she follows a few seconds later, collapsing onto me as she cries out my name. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.

  I don't like the idea of letting her go.

  As we lie there, she shifts off of me, but keeps pressed against my side.

  “Can I tell you something?”

  Her voice is small, and I wonder if I'm going to finally hear one of those things that make the shadows go across her face.

  “Have you ever had a secret so deep that you want to tell someone, but you're terrified that people will look at you differently when they find out?”

  I kiss the top of her head and stroke my hand down her bare arm. “I will never look at you any differently, no matter what you tell me. You can trust me.”

  She takes a deep breath, but I don't push her. When she starts to talk, it takes everything in me to stay calm when all I want to do is find that fucking bastard and chop his balls off. Then feed them to him. While he's tied to a fire ant hill. Covered in honey. Naked. In hundred and twenty-degree heat.

  All of this is running through my head, but I don't share any of it with her, because that's not what she needs right now. What she needs is for me to tighten my arms around her, kiss her, tell her that it doesn't change the way I feel about her. I can't quite bring myself to say the l word yet, but as her body relaxes, I know she understands.

  I stay awake until she falls asleep, and only then do I let myself do it as well.

  It’s dark when I wake up the next morning. I can’t stand winter mornings. I like waking up to sun, but that’s just not possible when I have a job to get to. I don’t think Dad would care very much if I told him I prefer getting out of bed after the sun’s high in the sky. I reach for her without thinking twice. Maybe she’ll be up for another go-round before we get out of bed. Or we could take a shower together. That’s always fun.

  Except she’s not there.

  My eyes fly open when I realize I’m touching empty bed beside me. I listen hard, but can’t hear any noise coming from the bathroom. The kitchen, maybe? It would be just like her to fix breakfast for me. I tie the belt of my robe loosely around my waist before going out to greet her. Maybe we’ll get through an entire meal together without groping at each other, even though that doesn’t sound very fun to me.

  She’s sitting at the island with her back to me, reading something on her laptop. “You know, you don’t have to prove to me that you’re a hard worker,” I mumble as I enter the kitchen. “I’m not your boss right now, remember?”

  She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even look at me when my voice breaks the silence.

  “Babe? What’s wrong?” I’m still rubbing sleep out of my eyes as I walk over to her. She still doesn’t look at me. I wonder if she heard me, but I know she had to. I’m standing barely two feet away.

  It’s only when I’m close enough to look over her shoulder that I see what she’s staring at, and it all makes sense. My stomach sinks like it’s turned to lead. Fucking parasite paparazzi. Who the hell was taking pictures in the club? And who the hell would think that's even a story?

  Above a picture of me and a woman who looks a hell of a lot like Trinity is a headline: On Again? Judging from the way we’re sucking each other’s faces off, it sure looks like we’re on again.

  I wish I could strangle whoever took the picture. Soulless vultures. I wish they'd stay the hell away from my life.

  “What is this?” Jane’s voice is little more than a whisper. I open my mouth to assure her it means nothing, to try to explain what looks inexplicable. Only I have no voice. Nothing comes out because, really, there’s nothing I can say that’ll help. I look guilty. I feel that way, too.

  Especially since it's not like Trinity was forcing herself on me. I may have stopped her eventually, but I was a willing participant.

  Jane turns to me, and the lack of light in her eyes twists a knife in my chest.

  “What the hell is this?” she asks again.

  Chapter 25

  Jane

  My chin trembles, but I hold back just short of letting the tears fall. I won’t let him see me break down. He doesn’t deserve it, and he sure as hell isn’t worth it. I put everything out there for him. Told him my darkest, most personal secret...and then I find this.

  His jaw is slack. Of course it is. He doesn’t know what to say because I have him cornered. For once, he can’t charm his way out of something. The thought makes me hate him. I hate him for making a fool out of me, for making me regret giving him something so important to me. Not just my virginity, either. My trust and my faith and my heart.

  What's worse is that I know better.

  “If you can’t tell me what it is, can you tell me when it was?” I ask, je
rking my thumb in the direction of the laptop screen and that vile, nasty picture with its terrible headline.

  Part of me is hoping that he'll say the picture is from months ago, before we met. If that's all it is, I'll have my own issues feeling insecure about how gorgeous that woman is, but that's completely different than if it's more recent. My gut tells me that's not the case, though.

  “I know it’s the club you go to all the time because I recognize it. I found you there that one night, the night we…” I can’t make myself finish. I’m not sure I want to remember sleeping with him that first time.

  He nods as he runs a hand over his tousled hair, then over the stubble that covers his chiseled jaw. Normally I find all of that sexy. Not this morning.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it was the club.” He pauses, takes a deep breath, and adds, “It was that night, too. The same night.”

  My heart shatters, and so does my relative calm. “You were with her that same night? What, before I got there? Did she shut you down? Is that why you kissed me back? Is that why you—”

  I can't say it, but I also can't keep myself from thinking it. Thinking that maybe he didn't choose to be with me because he cares about me. I'm just...easy.

  His eyes fly open wide. “Hey! I didn’t go looking for you that night. You came there looking for me. It’s not like I was trolling around.”

  I stare at him, unable to believe that things are falling apart so fast. “You’re defending yourself?”

  “I shouldn't have to, for fuck's sake!” he practically shouts. “You walked away from me, remember? You said we should forget what happened between us. So that's what I was trying to do! Forget! Dammit, Jane!”

  He's right about that. I'd been the one who ended things before they really got started.

  “Don’t forget, Jane, you’re the one who ran off and wouldn’t acknowledge me for days. I didn’t know what you were thinking, or if you would ever even set foot in the office again!”