by CY Jones
“Tyson," I reply. Why is he making this so fucking hard?
“Please, jewel, come home with me. If you still feel uncomfortable, I’ll take you back to your place anytime you want. Just know if I do, I’m not giving up on you.”
He’s really fucking serious. He really wants me, wants us to be exclusive. Maybe the idea isn’t as crazy as I’m making it and he’s just what I need to forget about Grayson. He’s taken, but Tyson isn’t, and not a bad runner up if I say so myself. “Fine,” I relent and he gives me one of his charming, shit eating smiles. I hope I’m not leaving one trap just to be snared by another.
“Don’t look so surprised. You should know by now, jewel, I always get what I want.”
“Jewel,” I raise my brow. “Are you sticking to one nickname from now on?”
“I think I finally found the one. The others were just a test,” he replies, making me think he’s talking about more than a nickname. “Come, let's take my car since yours is being tracked. I’ll have someone come for it later and have the tracker removed.”
“Okay,” I agree, happy to have someone else handle McHottie’s shit. Him and Nichole went too far tracking me like one would do a pet.
We both dash to his car and once inside, I sink into the rich Italian leather seats. Now this is luxury. Tyson’s car smells just like him, purely man with a hint of evergreen from his aftershave. Listening to the purr of his engine, it’s like a lullaby, and it doesn’t take long before I close my eyes, drifting off back to sleep.
I wake in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, and I sit up, looking around at my surroundings. “Tyson,” I call out his name and hear nothing in reply but the echo of my own voice.
His sheets are all black and silk, not the cheap imitation kind but the real deal and they caress my skin. His comforter is also all black. In fact, his room didn’t have much color, making me think he moonlights as a vampire. God knows he’s hot enough, as well as the seductive vibes he gives off naturally. His room gives off a minimalist vibe, spacious with the furnishings placed in just the right places. Works of expensive abstract art hang on the heather grey walls, one of the few pieces of bright color he has in his room. Even the bed I’m lying in is a dark burnt wood as well as the dresser, the side table next to the bed, and the armoire in the corner of the room.
Getting up, I walk over to his dresser and run my finger across the dark wood, not surprised to see it’s polished to perfection. Sitting on top and placed in the exact middle, as if someone measured the distance, is a glass case holding all Tyson’s expensive watches I’ve noticed him wear to work, all worth a small fortune. His armoire must be just for show because when I open it, there’s nothing inside. The same goes for the side table next to the bed, except for the remote laying on top.
“Evening, miss. I hope you slept well,” a woman’s voice says from behind me. Jumping a mile high, I hold my hand to my heart startled.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, rushing over. “Usually it’s just me in this big place. I’m Vinny, Mr. Garfield’s housekeeper.”
The woman is pretty, probably in her mid-forties with graying dark brown hair, which she has pulled back in a neat ponytail. She’s not wearing a uniform per say, just dark slacks with an apron tied around her waist and a white cotton shirt buttoned up all the way to the top. I don’t know why but I pictured Tyson’s housekeeper would be a young blonde wearing one of those black with white lace trim skimpy maids uniforms, like you see in pornos to go with his playboy flare. I wasn’t expecting someone so vanilla. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she apologizes again, looking me over with worried eyes, probably because I still haven’t said anything to her and am just staring, wide-eyed at the poor woman.
When I finally get my shit together, finding my voice, I reply, “It’s not your fault. I thought I was the only one here. When I called out, no one answered,” I explained sheepishly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. This place is quite big and we usually use the intercom to communicate,” she says, pointing at a panel on the wall I missed. “You have been sleeping for quite a while, and I came to see if you were up yet and wanted something to eat. It took me a while to get up all the stairs,” she explains and I look down noticing the boot on her foot.
“Oh my god, what happened?” I ask.
“Oh nothing too exciting, just me being clumsy,” she chuckles. "I tripped over my dog coming home from work a couple weeks ago.” Her smile is bright and I find myself at ease, chuckling with her as she explains how excited her dog gets when she comes home. Waking up in Tyson’s room, I felt intimidated by his wealth, which is silly since that’s all I’ve been around lately, but Vinny’s aura is a welcomed sight. Figures I feel more at home with the help.
“He must have been very happy to see you. Is he a big dog?”
“Yes, a big golden retriever, which makes me think I need to get my eyes checked,” she answers, chuckling.
“How long have I been asleep?” I ask, curious.
“A little over five hours. Mr. Garfield was the one to carry you inside and put you in his room and then told me to stay with you until he gets back home. Usually, I just clean up and leave, then come back to make dinner, but he didn’t want you waking up alone in a strange place.”
“I guess he can be sweet,” I muse. I’m surprised he knew that waking up here alone would be daunting for me or intune to any woman's feelings except what they can do for his dick.
“He really is and a great employer. I can’t even begin to tell you the horror stories of the other people I worked for.”
“I can imagine,” I mutter absentmindedly, not expecting a response. She doesn’t give me one, instead she leads me out of the room and gives me a quick tour.
Tyson’s building is located in Upper Manhattan. Like the townhouse the Hastings gifted me, it was set up by floors, just three instead of two with a huge patio on the top floor that had a fabulous million dollar view of the busy city around us. Each room has touches of Tyson everywhere, and I am surprised to get a settled in vibe instead of the museum one you get from most rich people's homes. You know, the ones where you’re scared to touch anything just in case you break something.
“How long have you been working for Tyson?” I ask once we get to the kitchen.
“A little over three years. I have to admit, you are the first woman he’s ever brought here,” she admits blushing.
“That can’t be true, not with his rep,” I reply, frowning.
“Oh, I know Mr. Garfield is no saint. I’ve read the tabloids, but he’s never brought any of those women here to his home. I was surprised to see him carry you through the door and even more surprised when he said you’d be staying here.”
“He surprised me with the offer too,” I admit wondering when the hell did I get so chatty and to a stranger no less.
Vinny walks over to the warmer and pulls a plate out filled with food before setting it in front of me. “You should eat. Mr. Garfield called to say he has to work late and won’t be back for a while.” Nodding, I dig in and hum in appreciation when I take a bite of the roasted chicken. It is moist and cooked to perfection.
“God, this tastes so good. Even better than the restaurants,” I compliment her, taking another huge bite.
“Thanks for the compliment. I’m rarely here when Mr. Garfield finally settles down enough to eat. He’s such a busy man.”
“I guess so,” I hum, trying to read Vinny. She’s very protective of Tyson, that’s for sure, and I guess she was feeling some kind of way of me being here. If what she said is true, then Tyson has never been serious enough about anyone to bring them home and she’s making sure I’m not here to use or hurt him. Doesn’t she know he’s the one who will likely hurt me? I’m taking a huge leap of faith by being here.
After I eat, Vinny cleans up silently and I decide to get out of her hair. Wandering around Tyson’s home, I find his study where he keeps all his law
books and a pang of something, I don’t know what, overcomes me. I can’t help thinking about Tyson’s father and how happy it made him to take me under his wing and teach me law. I hate that I disappointed him and won’t be seeing him in the office again. I guess that bitch Nancy will get my job.
Pulling one of the books free, I take a seat on the lounge near the window, deciding to get some reading in. I don’t know why, but I liked learning about law, it interests me, and I don’t want the classes to stop just because I lost my teacher.
I don’t know when I drifted off and fell asleep, but I’m woken with a soft kiss on my lips and Tyson’s thumb rubbing across the side of my face gently.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispers when he sees I’m awake.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so tired,” I say, sitting up. The book I was reading lays open on my chest and Tyson picks it up, reading the title.
“Litigation Law, well that would put anyone to sleep,” he teases. Rolling my eyes, I snatch the book from him and cross my arms, holding it to my chest like it’s a prized treasure.
“It’s not boring,” I reply defensively, which makes him smile.
“You are so cute when you get all serious about law.”
“How was your day, dear?” I ask, wanting to change the subject. Joking with him about law just brings up memories of me learning in his father’s office. A place I’ll never see again.
“Dear, I think I like that. It makes me feel like I’m owned,” he answers instead.
“And you’re not?” I ask, raising my brow.
“Oh, I am,” he says moving closer. “I just didn’t think you did.” He’s so close to me and all I want to do is close the distance, but something is holding me back. No, not something, but someone. Stupid McHottie is always there. A plague that hangs out in the back of my mind waiting for the right moment to consume me, making himself another obstacle from moving onto the next step of my life like with Maxamillian and Mary. Yes, I know my history too.
He sees my indecision, but doesn’t push me, which I’m thankful for. “You know, jewel. I’m in very unfamiliar territory by denying myself what I want.” His voice is very seductive and I squirm beside him, hating myself for not being able to take the next step, but it still doesn’t stop me from playing along.
“And what is it that you want?" I ask him, looking directly in his blue gaze of fire.
“For starters, you naked, spread out on this chaise with my head between your legs, making you writhe and moan, shouting out my name for all of New York to hear.” Well, fuck. Damn, it’s hot in here. Knowing he’s affecting me, he grabs my hip, pulling me closer. At the same time, he feathers his thumb across my hip as he keeps his prize in sight, but not quite reaching for it.
Gulping hard, I ask, “And afterwards,” because I’m a glutton for punishment.
“Afterwards, when you’ve come down from your high, I’ll pick you up, naked, in my arms and carry you to my room where I’ll do naughty things to your body all night long and the next morning when you go back to work, you’ll be completely hoarse and will only be able to communicate to our clients using sign language. I have to say answering the phones will be quite a bitch, but,” he stops all dramatically and shit before leaning mere centimeters from my lips. “I won’t touch you until you are sure you’ll give me all of you, because once you do, there’s no going back.”
“Well, I already see a flaw in your little scenario as in I have no job to go back to,” I tell him, ignoring the giving in part. A lot needs to happen before I do that, like burn McHottie and his dick from my brain.
“Didn’t I tell you in the car? Grayson covered for you so you still have a job.”
“What?” I shout, jumping back, and I almost fall off the leather chaise. If it weren’t for Tyson grabbing my arm in time, I probably would have. “I slapped him, in front of witnesses. There’s no way your father is letting that slide.”
“Apparently he is as you still have a job.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I mutter.
“I was in Grayson’s office when the HR rep came to see him. He told him you fell and accidentally slapped him when he tried to steady you.”
“And they believed that?” I asked incredulously. That had to be like the lamest excuse ever.
“Probably not, but it’s Grayson’s word against everyone else. When the HR rep left, Grayson told my father you two had a disagreement and it was his fault you hit him in the first place. Since my father values Grayson’s judgement, he let it slide, but you’re on thin ice. There will be no more warnings, something I’m sure my father will tell you himself tomorrow morning in his office.”
“Wow, that’s just, wow. I never thought Grayson would speak up for me.”
“I admit I was surprised myself, but I can see he cares for you, so why wouldn’t he?”
“No, he doesn’t. I’m just a business transaction to him...,” I reply a bit sourly before I’m interrupted.
“Jewel, love, I’ve seen your contract. I know you fucked him to make the kid that’s currently living inside you. I don’t know when or maybe you don’t realize it yourself, but somewhere between lust and love, you two fell for each other.” What the hell? Did Grayson spill the beans? No, yapping his gums isn’t his style. If Tyson saw my contract, he had to have snooped on his own. He knows the truth yet he’s not running away in the other direction, screaming how screwed up I am; no, instead he’s standing steady right in my path, ready to catch me when Grayson tosses me aside. Why? I just don’t get Tyson.
“And yet you still want to be with me,” I tell him instead of denying his words are untrue. I know he’s telling me the truth. The jealousy, the not being able to stop thinking of McHottie, even now when I should be cursing the day Grayson was born, I want to hold him in my arms and tell him how fucking sorry I am.
“Yes, because Grayson isn’t who you need, I am. He loves his wife and no matter how hard you try, how much he comes to care for you, love you even, he’ll never leave Nichole for you. It’s better to stop this crazy ride before you find yourself in so deep you won’t be able to climb out. Let me be the ladder in your life. Let me help you.”
I don’t say anything, and I guess he wasn’t expecting an answer because he stands, pulling me with him as he walks me across the hall and into his bedroom. “Lay down, you have an early day tomorrow and today was an exhausting one,” he says softly and I follow his orders with no complaints. Once I’m comfy in his bed, I watch him undress and commit his perfect body to memory. Tyson is perfection and not at all shy about revealing himself to me, or the impressive hard on he is sporting. When he turns towards the bathroom, I can’t take my eyes off his perfect glutes until they disappear behind the door when he shuts it.
I’m already here. Would giving myself to Tyson be so bad?
17
Jade
The next day, Tyson drives me to work since my car is still out of commission while his mechanic takes care of the tracker. Even though I was walking in with Tyson, and it was fairly early, I still felt like everyone's eyes were on me. I know they had to have heard what happened yesterday. This place was worse than gossiping teenagers, nothing is kept secret for long. I even saw my new enemy Nancy at my desk, readying it for the day.
“Jade, I didn’t think you’d be here today,” she says shocked when she sees me glaring over at her. She probably didn’t expect to see me at all, period. Does she have any shame? She didn’t wait long to pounce.
Reading my mind, Tyson tells her, “No need for you to make yourself at home. Jade isn’t going anywhere.” She gives him a tight smile before giving me a not so nice look as she gathers her shit. When she turns to go to her floor, she bumps my arm hard before giving me a halfass apology she doesn’t really mean.
“Bitch,” I mumble under my breath, but Tyson still hears me and gives me a tender kiss before he walks off. I’m standing there dazed when Mr. Garfield walks in, muttering morning pleasantries.
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“Jade, can I see you in my office?” he asks and my heart races. I knew he would want to see me so I don’t know why I am so scared. Maybe it’s because I hate that I disappointed him. I swear this place is making me soft. I need to dig up that tough Jersey girl McHottie tried to bury alive.
“Sure thing, boss man,” I answer with a forced smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
I don’t know why I feel like I’m walking towards my execution as I take the same steps to Mr. Garfield’s office I take almost everyday. When I reach his door, I knock and wait for him to call me in. When he does, I notice that Tyson is nowhere to be seen and that his father wanted to talk to me alone. Well fuck, that’s not good. What if he fires me anyways despite Tyson’s reassurances?
“Take a seat, Jade,” he says in a no nonsense tone. When I’m seated, he looks at me for quite a while before speaking, making me squirm in the expensive leather, wingback chair.
“I’m sure you know why I asked you in here,” he starts.
“I do,” I answer.
“Do you know what makes this firm so successful?” he asks, confusing me.
“Umm, no, not really,” I answer.
“You wouldn’t know it from first meeting us, but each of my partners are ruthless and well educated. It’s my company that coined the saying ‘sharks in the water’. We are those sharks, and to be so, we had to do many things. In our business, it’s instrumental we know our craft. We have to be able to anticipate any situation and case that comes our way so we can come up with the perfect solution to move forward. It’s not enough to be book smart, we also need to be able to read people, know who we are going against. That’s a trait that cannot be taught. You have to have been born with it. My top workers are handpicked from a pool I pay close attention to, and I do not waste my time on just anybody. I noticed from the first second you started working here that you, my dear, have what it takes, and if you only apply yourself, you can be something remarkable. When Nancy was messing with you, you did not complain or look for someone to solve the problem for you. You took the matter in your own hands and worked with the cards you were dealt and succeeded. I can teach you law all day, but it’s up to you to mold yourself to be successful. Distractions are costly. Do you get what I’m telling you?”