“He’s my boss.”
Sasha waves her hand. “That’s what HR is for. You guys can let them know what’s going on, they’ll have you sign some forms, and that’ll be that.”
If only that could be that.
“Why does he want you specifically to go on this retreat?”
“We recently rolled out a new line of smart wearables—”
“I read about the privacy concerns in the Times,” Sasha says.
“Well, it’s about that. He wants to partner with this renowned cyber security firm to show our customers that we take this seriously and won’t let it happen again. The guy who owns the company does not like Chase. He does like me, and so does his wife. I guess Chase thinks that I’ll be able to gently persuade this man into accepting Chase’s offer.”
Sasha give her a soft, sisterly smile. “You are very charming and lovable.”
“Thank you,” Amber says. “He seems pretty desperate. He told me I could have anything I wanted if I agreed to go.”
Sasha’s chopsticks clink against her plate. “Anything?”
Amber nods. “Just to show him how ridiculous he was being, I asked him to buy me this apartment.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said he’d do it,” she replies with an uncomfortable laugh.
Sasha’s eyes go wide. “You took him up on it right?” Amber knows that’s just the recently jilted, homeless part of her talking. If she were in her right mind there’s no way she would urge her to accept such a gift for a comparatively small favor.
“Of course I didn’t. I feel like the appropriate ask for something like this would be…I don’t know, a nice handbag or something.”
“Get creative,” Sasha tells her. “Don’t be too extravagant, but negotiate for something nice for yourself. Maybe a nice vacation or something; you deserve it. And don’t say no just because you’re worried about me. Take some chances in your life, you know? A nice weekend in the country at a rich person’s house can’t be bad, right? You’ll get some great food out of it, have a nice little weekend, on top of whatever it is you wind up asking for in return. It’s a win-win.”
Well, when she puts it like that.
“When I mentioned not wanting to leave you alone, Chase said that you could have, and I quote, “whatever you wanted to drown your sorrows in.”
That perks Sasha up. “Does that include a bottle of champagne and some chocolate-covered strawberries?”
“I think that could be arranged,” Amber says, laughing.
“I would spend the whole weekend in the bath.”
Amber’s apartment is the size of a shoebox, but the clawfoot tub is great for relaxing in.
“I guess I better finish this,” she says, nodding toward her unfinished food. “I have a trip to make after dinner.”
She also has an idea of what she’s going to ask for.
Chapter Four
Chase sits in his living room, sprawled out on his favorite chair, staring up at the ceiling.
He can’t get the sight of Amber’s thong out of his head. He just happened to see it flung on her closet doorknob as he was giving her room one last look. Being in someone’s personal space gives you an intimate idea of who they are. The room smelled like her perfume. There were photos everywhere: in frames hung on the wall, tucked into the trim around her mirror. Chase wanted to examine every one of them, to get a glimpse at parts of Amber he’d never seen before.
Given how organized she is in the office, he wasn’t surprised to find that her bedroom was mostly neat apart from the clothes flung across the chair, and that damned thong.
He wonders if she left it there on purpose, but he talks himself out of that because there’s no way she could’ve known that he would come over and ask to speak to her privately.
Does she wear similar pairs to the office? Are they little scraps of fabric that make her feel sexy during her work day?
It’d been thrown haphazardly...had someone else done the throwing? Chase swallows the jealous burning that creeps up his throat at the thought, pushing it down deep.
Lately, he’s been thinking about her like this more and more. Wanting to linger at her desk just to keep talking to her, admiring the soft curves of her body when she wears the dresses that show them off, fixating on the soft pinkness of her lips, wondering what they’d taste like. He wants to know what kind of sounds she’d make if he let his hands wander, how it’d feel to kiss his way across her body.
It’s not the first time he’s wanted Amber, but it’s a feeling that’s getting harder and harder to ignore. She’s all he can think about sometimes.
At first he thought it was a phase. She challenges him in a way no other woman has before, so of course he’s attracted to that. Then he found himself thinking about her when he was with other women, and then not wanting to be with other women at all.
Taking her on this retreat is a disaster in the making, he knows this. His self-control is already slipping, and has been for months now. He flirts with Amber because he can’t help himself, his looks linger on her because he can’t help himself, he wants her because he can’t help himself.
Chase wants to take Amber on this retreat with him because he truly believes she’s the key to getting Pearson to agree to the deal. But he also wants to take her with him because he’ll get to spend more time with her. More personal time, away from the office, just the two of them.
It’s a dangerous new feeling that he can’t shake.
He’s in the process of getting up to take a cold shower when his phone buzzes in his pocket.
* * *
I’m in the lobby, tell your watchdog to let me up.
* * *
Amber’s disdain for not being able to come and go as she pleases and having to deal with the doorman for access makes Chase smile. He’s considered putting her on his approved visitor list, but he hasn’t because of moments like this one.
He calls downstairs to ask the person on duty to let her up.
Chase doesn’t bother to straighten his tie or roll his sleeves down. He’s just gotten home and is about as comfortable as he can be in office attire. He’s seen the way Amber looks at him when he’s a little undone. He figures his look can only work in his favor here.
It takes a couple of minutes for Amber to get up to his floor. When he opens the door, he’s surprised to see her so casually dressed. She has on a pair of tight black pants and a t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and she has her glasses on. He doesn’t usually get to see her like this.
He remembers the first time he did. They were in Barcelona attending a conference, and he’d gone to her room late one night needing help retrieving a presentation he’d accidentally deleted. She’d just finished taking a bath and came to the door wrapped in a fluffy white robe. Her hair was a mess of curls and the soft, clean smell of her soap wafted thought the room.
It feels now like it felt then...intimate.
She seems winded, like she ran over here. She lives across town, so that’s not likely, but from the look of her it seems like she came over without thinking about it.
That intrigues Chase.
“Hey,” he says.
Amber clasps her hands behind her back. The action pushes out her breasts and makes Chase’s mouth water. He has to figure out a way to ignore this naked want coursing through his veins, or closing the Pearson deal will be the last thing he has to worry about this weekend. Assuming Amber agrees to come, of course.
“Is it okay if I come in?”
Chase pulls back the door to let her inside.
She’s been here plenty of times before; she’s already seen almost all there is to see here, so the urge to look around was probably satisfied long ago.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asks.
“Yeah,” she says breathily. “That would be great.”
“Everything okay?” She follows him over to the bar adjacent to his kitchen. �
�You seem like you were in a rush to get here.”
“Oh, you know. I have an answer to your question, and I know how much you hate waiting.”
“I’m an impatient man, but don’t mind waiting for you,” he flirts. He reaches into his wine cooler and pulls out Amber’s favorite rosé. He hears the soft gasp she lets out when she notices the label.
“So, what’s your answer,” he asks, handing her the glass.
She grins over the rim before she takes a sip. “I thought you said you didn’t mind waiting for me?”
“Even I have my limits.”
“Don’t I know it,” she laughs. She takes a deep breath and takes a long gulp. “My answer is yes.”
“Are you sure?” He knows better than to second-guess a deal when he’s reached an agreement. He’s not an idiot, but he knows how much hangs in the balance here.
“I’m sure.”
“Is there a reason why you had to think about it?” Chase knows it’s a question he probably shouldn’t be asking, but he’s gotten the answer he wanted and it makes him bold.
“It just feels…” she trails off, not completing the thought. She looks at him like she expects him to know what she’s saying, and he does.
It feels dangerous. It’s reckless and stupid and thrilling.
“I know what you mean.”
Her eyes widen in surprise.
They never talk about this attraction, the electricity in the air between them when they’re together. It’s always been the elephant in the room, and it feels like they should keep skirting around it. Ignore it. It’s not there. Play it safe.
“You do?”
Chase nods and leans against the counter, wanting to get closer to her.
“I do.”
Her answering hum echoes in the wine glass before she takes another deep gulp. “I figured out what I want in exchange,” she says, expertly changing the subject to a safer topic.
He straightens his back and crosses his arms, assuming his negotiating position, even though he knows he’s going to give her whatever it is that she wants. He’d been serious about being willing to buy her apartment; he has more money than he could possibly spend in his lifetime.
He wonders if whatever’s coming will cost him more or less. He finds himself intrigued.
“Name it.”
“A trip to Paris,” she answers. “I want the jet. I want it stocked with the best champagne and I’d like to have that chicken that we had on our flight to Barcelona, remember?”
He remembers. She’d raved about it ever since, and he found it endearing that out of all the expensive meals they’ve shared in all the fabulous restaurants they’ve visited together, she couldn’t stop talking about airplane food. She’d let out this soft little moan every time she ate another bite. It had been mile-high torture.
“Done,” he answers. “I get a sense there’s more.”
She nods. “I want a suite at the Four Seasons for a week. I want a chauffeur and explicit permission to use your name to score hard-to-get reservations.”
“Okay,” he agrees, fighting down this jealous surge that rushes through him as he wonders who she’s thinking of taking with her. “How many people?”
“Two.”
“You and…”
“A guest,” she says cryptically, driving him crazy. “Telling you who it is isn’t part of the deal. Agree to these terms and you’ve got yourself a date to this retreat in Connecticut. If I need any kind of formal wear, you’re buying it, and I get to keep it.”
He likes this hard-bargaining, spunky negotiator in front of him. What he doesn’t like is not knowing who she wants to take to Paris with her. He decides not to press his luck and try to get an answer tonight, but he is going to get an answer.
He’s tempted to tell her she’ll need a cocktail dress just to see what she picks out. “You don’t need anything formal,” he assures her.
“One more request,” she says, reaching for the wine bottle beside her. “Have a bottle of this on hand to celebrate me talking Pearson into giving you that deal.”
Chase takes the bottle from her hands and tops her up. “I’ll buy you a whole case if you get me that deal.”
Amber takes another sip, seemingly relaxing now that she’s gotten what she wants. Chase just watches her as she enjoys her wine. A few delicate curls fall out of her bun, sweeping across her cheeks. He wants to reach over and tenderly swipe them behind her ear. He wants to move in close and kiss her, wants to taste the alcohol on her tongue.
He wants to peel off her pants and find out if there’s a thong slung low on her hips just waiting for him.
He wants so many things from her, and the list is getting longer by the day. He knows it’s a bad idea, but he doesn’t think he can help himself anymore.
He’s in deep, but he doesn’t care.
This trip is going to be the ultimate test of his willpower.
Chapter Five
Amber stares at the empty suitcase that’s open on her bed. Her sister is sprawled out next to it, her legs in the air as she scrolls through an email on her phone.
“That broker Chase put me in contact with is really on it,” she says.
“Find anything good?”
“We looked at a few places last night, but I didn’t fall in love with anything. She sent a fresh batch over this morning. She’s sticking to my price range and isn’t trying to convince me to rent a place that’s out of it. I really like her.”
“I’m glad.” Chase wouldn't have put her in contact with a shark who was only out for a commission. “I hope something in this current batch is the one.”
Even though Amber likes having her sister around, she understands that couch surfing isn’t Sasha’s favorite thing, and that she wants to get settled in somewhere new as soon as possible.
Amber riffles through the clothes in her closet, assessing her collection of sundresses and finding them all lacking. Chase has assured her several times this week that it’s going to be a strictly casual weekend, but Amber likes being prepared. She doesn’t typically feel less than when she accompanies him to business meetings, but she feels like everyone is on mostly equal footing there. A trip to someone’s home—especially someone’s second home—is a little different.
She got all of her high-end designer clothes secondhand at a deep discount. She highly doubts anyone at this retreat will have plucked their dresses out of consignment.
A casual weekend for Amber is hanging out in the same pair of pajamas all weekend, binge watching something on Netflix, and eating takeout every meal.
A casual weekend for the Pearsons probably involve dress fittings and hair stylists and entertaining royalty.
Amber takes a pretty pink floral dress out of her closet and lets the coat hanger rest on the back of her neck as she drapes the dress across her front.
“What do you think about this one?”
It’s the most summery thing she owns, and really complements her hair and eyes. Sasha looks up from her phone and gives her sister a critical once over.
“I love it. It’s beautiful but casual, and doesn’t look like you’re trying too hard.” Sasha sits up on the bed, dangling her legs off the side and judges as Amber goes through her wardrobe piece by piece. When they’re done, Amber’s suitcase is filled with enough clothes to last two weeks in Connecticut, but she has an outfit packed for pretty much anything that could possibly happen.
“Make sure you pack some lingerie. Might as well plan for the inevitable.”
Amber rolls her eyes. “That is not happening. We’re not even sharing a room.”
“Will being at this estate somehow prevent either one of you from being able to walk into each other’s rooms? Is the power of the great state of Connecticut going to repel your genitals, making it impossible to have sex?”
Amber lets out a long-suffering sigh. “The fact that I’ve decided not to have sex with him is going to make it impossible to have sex.” Her palm itches, like she wants to r
each out and slap her sister for the first time since she was ten years old.
Sasha must realize that Chase is a button she shouldn’t be pushing, because she changes the subject. “Make sure you bring a cardigan to tie around your neck in case you guys start playing shuffleboard or croquet or whatever.” She gasps, like she’s just remembered something. “Speaking of over-the-top rich people, Chase sent over a few bottles of champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries from this artisan chocolatier in the East Village, and a gift basket with a bunch of handmade bath bombs in it this morning. I like him. If he asks you to go on another retreat with him, please feel free to say yes.”
Despite Sasha’s nagging about her love life, Amber laughs. “As you wish.”
She’s pleasantly surprised that Chase managed to send something over without her help. She meant to do it, but got caught up in some work things and forgot. He must’ve roped another assistant into doing it for him.
“Are you ever going to tell me what you asked for?”
“I will,” Amber replies, walking over to her dresser so she can pick out a couple pairs of pajamas. “When the time is right.”
Sasha raises her eyebrows. “All this secrecy. Whatever it is, it must be pretty good. Are you waiting to go to closing before the big reveal or something?”
“For the last time,” Amber says, tossing her PJs into her suitcase. “He’s not buying this apartment for me.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Amber smiles when she thinks of how excited her sister is going to be when she find out what exactly she bargained for.
“Should I bring a hat?” Amber asks herself, picking up the floppy straw sunhat that sits on a stool next to her dresser. She’s a pale redhead who slathers on the highest SPF available every day before she steps foot out into the sun. Of course she should bring a hat.
She tosses it onto the bed.
One Night With The Billionaire Too Page 3