I picture Ian Robbins the third, writhing in his Gucci loafers as I slap a lawsuit on him.
"Princess, you want to let us in on these devilish intentions before I have to kick Evin out?" Miller breaks into my thoughts and I whirl to face them.
My heart stops at the sight. Evin is handsome in a professional but rugged way. He wears a suit, designer or not, like he was meant for a runway. His dark hair, hard build, and caramel eyes could bring a woman down. But I knew the instant I met him he's not my type.
Miller, on the other hand, makes me weak. He's leaning on his counter, arms crossed, feet kicked out and also crossed at the ankles, and crystal blue eyes locked on me. It doesn't take superpower vision to see what he looks like under his clothes—his thick legs, muscular torso, the bulging biceps. My hands itch to run through his messy hair and lose myself in him.
I shake myself out of the thoughts and try my best to glare. "You are not kicking Evin out, Miller. We need to take this pompous ass to the ground."
"Keep talking like that, we'll do it in a few hours," he calmly returns with his filthy grin.
"Man, I'm available after lunch if you need," Evin offers, picking up on Miller's intentions. "But—"
"Zip it, Evin. We're not even sleeping together, so forget your bro-code bullshit. I am pissed, and that means Miller has to deal with his peculiar obsession with my rage, and you have to make this right! I want my money transferred."
Evin snaps his head to Miller, who gives a quick shrug of confirmation. And I almost explode. "MEN!"
"Baby, you have to give us more than this guy is a rat bastard."
"Ian Robbins the third is the nephew of Mr. Redmond, who is the founder of my firm. Third saw an opportunity with his uncle's successful Chicago law firm and started his financial and portfolio management company using the employees as his breeding ground. They encouraged us to put our investment money with him. Third knew his place enough to know where his bread was buttered. He didn't go after anyone that made less than one-fifty a year."
"Fuck me," Evin sneers, and Miller visibly straightens, his earlier amusement fading quickly.
"As an 'up and comer', and groomed to be partner, I was heavily persuaded to go with Third with my additional investments. I met with Ian and knew he was a dweeb. Since I was at the lower end of the money train, he didn't blink, just assigned me to a different advisor. My fourth year at the firm, Third got wind of my success and suddenly I was his shiny toy."
A low, back of the throat rumble rolls through the room, and Miller's expression has turned to stone. "You're not a toy," he grinds out.
"Of course not! But I played nice, acted according to our corporate cultured environment, and tolerated him when forced to socialize. He eventually got his hands on my account when my advisor 'found a better opportunity'. Which was total bullshit because I ran into the advisor a year later at an event, and he let it slip they ushered him out the door with a generous severance after making him sign a two-year non-disclosure. This helped fuel my dislike of Ian Robbins the third." I practically spit the name. "As my new consultant, he insisted on a quarterly meeting where he tried to take my funds into higher-risk investments, which I constantly declined. Then he made his move on me."
I don't know how it's possible, but Miller grows even steelier, his eyes now blazing infernos of jealousy.
"Oh, please! Reel in the macho. He didn't have a chance. Sure, some women may find him attractive, if you like the slicked-back hair, doused in cologne, steal from-your-own-mother type of guy. Not me. I mean, look at you." I wave my hand, gesturing to him. "Not one iota of interest in that loser. And if I didn't have my senses about me, the day he fell off the Peleton would have sealed the deal."
"He fell off a Peleton? Like the bike?" Evin scrunches his eyebrows. "How does that even happen?"
"Over-inflated ego mixed with zero grace, but that's beside the point."
"Let's get back to the point. He's disputing your transfer with a serious allegation."
I rip the printout from the floor and read it again, fueling my fury further.
… It is my fear that Ashlyn is unstable and not of sound mind at this time. Her rapid and unexplained exit from her professional position came as an immense surprise. Many of her colleagues and friends are concerned she pushed herself too hard and is suffering from burnout. She is a valued and deeply cared for client of this firm. Personally, Ashlyn and I have built a treasured relationship outside of my financial obligations to her accounts.
It is my greatest fear that someone has gotten to Ashlyn, discovered her assets, and preyed on her vulnerabilities at a shaky time in her life. Therefore, I can't ethically abide by the normal transfer protocols. My suggestion to schedule a meeting with you and Ashlyn stands. I think she may feel more comfortable with a familiar and trusted person in her corner during this challenging time.
The email goes on, but my brain threatens to explode if I read through it again. "He's such a lying waste of space. I am not unstable, vulnerable, nor suffering from burnout."
"Why would he use it as his foundation?"
"Because I may have gone out quietly, but it doesn't mean my departure didn't cause a shake-up. My guess is, until Ian received this transfer request, no one knew I was in Charleston. I cut everyone out. He doesn't give a shit about coming here out of the goodness of his heart. My guess, he's the first link to where I am. He not only wants to keep my money; he probably has been instructed to convince me to return."
Miller, whose fury seemed to thin, goes back to monster mode. "What the ever-loving fuck? That will not happen."
"Obviously." I shoot him a curt glare. Even with the tension high and his mood rolling off him in waves, his eyes flash in a recognizable, sexy way.
"And since my brain is betraying my quest for privacy and is in the sharing mood, you two get more. The day I resigned, I got in my car and disappeared to anyone associated with my firm. Before that, it took months of careful planning to fulfill my legal obligations to my clients. I worked my ass to the bones with the premise of taking a month-long vacation. Upper management did not like this plan, but since I had the time and was burning through my workload like a madwoman, they had to accept. In my position, I couldn't vanish off the radar completely. While I was decimating my old life and buying my house here, I was accessible when needed. They had no clue, thinking it was my duty to work on vacation. They also didn't know my calendar was stuffed with phony appointments and meetings. I resigned effective immediately, dropped my phone and computer on my desk, and left Chicago behind."
"Is there a reason you Houdini'd?" Evin asks with a smirk.
"I stuck around way too long. Then one night, at a dinner party in a plush restaurant, surrounded by so much pretentiousness it threatened to swallow me, I saw the light. My twelve-hundred-dollar Saint Laurents led me to the bar next door, which changed my life. When I was ready to make my break, no one in Chicago needed to know where I was."
Evin's head swings to Miller, then back to me, realization dawning. It's clear he's heard the outlandish charade Miller spread of our first meeting. Miller ignores him.
"What the fuck is a Saint Laurent?" Miller questions.
"My shoes."
"They cost twelve-hundred-dollars?"
"Those did."
"Jesus." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Good to know, Princess."
His use of the endearment doesn't even faze me anymore. "How do you think I earned my nicknames?"
"Kids, can we get back to the important stuff?" Evin breaks in. "While I think the story of you meeting is preposterous, Ashlyn is not crazy, and this asshole needs a response."
"How long can he use this as a stall tactic?" Miller asks.
"The best way to combat this with less drama is to have my mom sign since she's the beneficiary and listed on all paperwork."
"That's unnecessary, Ashlyn. We can battle this easily. At some point, he will break the law."
"Personally, I want to hang hi
m by his balls and watch him squirm, but I've seen this many times before. He can put a spin on it and challenge my sanity all he wants, but it's a total sham. He's waiting for my response, and I can't even fathom dealing with him until I calm down."
"Damn, I was hoping to nail him." Evin looks shattered with my change of direction.
"We'll nail him in a better way. As luck has it, my parents will be here in two days. Mom and I will fill out the forms, double them up, and I'll write a letter demanding my money more authoritatively."
"Okay, I'll be waiting to hear from you on Thursday." Evin stands.
"I'll walk you to the door," Miller offers, pushing off the counter.
"Evin," I take a deep breath and find the courage before walking to him and throwing my arms around his shoulders in a soft embrace, "thank you for looking out for me and not believing the ludicrous allegations Ian tried to plant in your head."
"Ashlyn, why the fuck would I ever—"
"Shut it, man," Miller cuts in, "and enjoy it. Gratitude and appreciation aren't her strong points."
My cheeks flame and I step back, ready to let him have it, when I'm engulfed from behind, Miller's powerful arms holding me in place. His hold reawakens my overworked muscles and I whimper.
"You didn't seem too sore when you were ranting."
"My adrenaline is crashing."
"Time for that bath."
"On that note, I'll walk myself out." Evin gives a quick salute and leaves us, the door shutting a few seconds later.
Miller stays quiet, too quiet, and my nerves tingle. "Miller?"
"You'll get some invoices this week. If it's not too late, I'll get accounting to tag them, but otherwise, ignore them. We'll put an extension on your account until you get this straightened out."
Oh my God! He's worried about my money. "There's no need for that."
"I get you’re proud and this will wig you the fuck out since you think we're moving fast. But you need anything, ask me. While you're here, I take care of all your expenses."
I fight back the stinging in my eyes and nose, wiggling loose enough to spin and wrap my arms around his neck. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm good."
"I'm sure you are, but if this motherfucker holding up your transfer pinches you in any way, come to me."
I've never been comfortable discussing finances. No one, even my family, is fully aware of all my accounts, the balances, and all the investment choices I've sunk my money into. But at this moment, with the sincerity in his eyes, I feel content having this conversation.
"Sweetheart," his face softens at the endearment. I press a quick kiss to his lips and continue. "Your offer is very generous and I am thankful, but I'm not worried about funds. I made a generous salary, ungodly bonuses, and saved well. Outside of my extravagant designer closet and presents for my family, I rarely splurged. My savings will hold me over for at least a year without pulling from my other areas. The house is financed, only because it's a smart tax decision, and the remodel is in a loan because it also makes sense. But I am not worried about paying my bills."
"This morning, you freaked about this ass taking your livelihood."
"I've been highly melodramatic, but that's because this morning I was shocked. My wits have come back to me. There is no way he could legally do anything to keep my business. I don't like Ian thinking he can drive his Maserati off my hard-earned money, then threaten to withhold it."
His eyes travel over my face, and I can tell he believes me when his gaze goes soft. "Don't like people fucking with you."
"And I appreciate that." I purposely emphasize the word.
"Baby, I hate this happened, but—" he pauses and I finish for him.
"… let myself out of my shell and lost my mind? Verbally vomited to a basic stranger and filled you both way into my personal business?"
"How about let loose and let yourself shine through?"
"Guess so." I shrug.
"I enjoyed it."
"Well, considering I've had a complete emotional rollercoaster this morning, I'm hoping for a brief reprieve today."
"What are you thinking?"
"No more sledgehammer or lifting anything over two pounds?"
"We can do that. One day rest period for a rookie is acceptable."
"Should we get back to my house?"
"Soon." He dips down and kisses me gently. "I have a lot of questions, Princess. One is bugging me most."
"Ask."
"How much money is this guy trying to hold on to?"
I bite my lower lip, sliding my eyes to the side, and deciding. Miller will not betray me like the serpents in my old life. I bring my eyes back to him and let it out, "A little over six-hundred thousand. That’s only in that specific firm, not counting my other savings plans. I've been smart with investments."
He jolts, his face going hard. "We'll get that money from the motherfucker if I have to make a personal visit."
"That won't be necessary."
He studies me again, and a wicked grin slides across his lips.
"What are you grinning about?"
"My Princess, who brings on the hottest bitch, making me hard each time, is also loaded."
It sinks in, and a brief giggle escapes before I fall directly into his chest. My muscles scream at me, but I ignore their protest and laugh until tears run down my cheeks.
Chapter 11
Miller
"Fuck!" My cock lurches, balls tighten, and I let go, the rush flooding out of me.
For a brief second, stars spot my vision as my whole body spasms. Watching Ashlyn's lips wrapped around my dick, taking it so deep I lost her eyes as she worked me. Every single time she sucks me off is a hit to my resistance.
"Good morning." She crawls slowly up my body, circling her tongue over her lips. My dick jumps, hard and ready to go again. She notices, grinning contently. "Your stamina is impressive."
"Keep crawling, baby. Want your pussy on my face."
A blush creeps up her neck, and she stops moving, shaking her head. "We're gonna do things my way this morning."
"Figured we already did when I woke up with my dick down your throat."
"You're especially mouthy."
"I like control and, baby, the second I hit the back of your throat I lost that."
"Mmhmm, I'm aware of your control issues. That's why I had to get creative."
"You proud of yourself?"
"Very proud, surprising you is serious business. Took some planning."
"Princess—"
She places a finger to my lips, her green eyes filling with mischief. "My way."
Her knees open, straddling my hips at the same time she sits up.
"Fuck, Jesus help me," I hiss when the wet heat of her pussy slides along my shaft.
"Say the word." She whips my shirt over her head, tossing it to the side.
My eyes travel over her naked chest, landing on the deep purple mark on the side of her nipple. A sense of possession pulses through me as I run a finger over it.
She pushes down hard, bringing my eyes back to her face. "Baby, you're playing with fire."
She rocks back and forth, bracing her hands on my abs. "I'm just trying to get your attention."
"You always have my attention."
"Yes, but you don't listen very well. Since this is our last morning together for a few days, I'm offering you the chance to…"
Even with my dick pulsing against her, my blood races for a different reason. I grip her ribcage, careful not to hurt her, and flip us. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"My parents want me at the hotel with them. They want to spend time with me."
"I can understand that. They get all day, but at night you're in my bed."
"It may be better if we ease them into this." Her feet link around my waist, and she traces my jaw gently.
"This," I emphasize the word and move to brace above her, cradling her neck, "is exactly why they are coming. We're not hiding."
"You
said that already, and I agreed that it's not fair to hide everything from them. But this is a bit of a jump. It'll be… better… if I stay with them."
In the last few weeks, I've paid close attention, learning a lot about Ashlyn, but in the last six days, I've picked up on how to read her. This isn't the freak out, we're-moving-too-fast, my-dad-is-going-to flip, general nerves kicking in. This is something entirely new. "You're scared."
"Terrified. I'm not a prude. My parents know I'm not a virgin, but they also haven't met a man in my life. Our lightning bolt relationship will require answers. That fact, coupled with explaining my departure from Chicago, which led me here, calls for some serious family time. My fear doesn't come from only meeting you; it's about taking them through my decisions and balancing it delicately."
As much as I want to debate, she has a point. I'm not ready to give up.
"It makes me an ass, but it fucking thrills me you haven't had a man in your life worthy enough to meet your family. Even though I pushed this thing, it would happen eventually, and considering I'm crazy about you, it's better if they're with us from the beginning. As for your leaving Chicago, you can stick to the basics and they'll understand. There's a lot more to that story, but you’ll tell me in your own time. Any parent would worry, but when they see what you have here, hopefully, it will settle them down. If you think staying with them at a hotel will help speed up their acceptance of your choices, I'll give you two nights."
Her eyes dart over my face, and I feel the spike in her pulse against my thumbs. "You're crazy about me?"
"Hell yes, not sure why you seem surprised. Our relationship hasn't been an experiment in reconnecting. I haven't hidden my intentions or dropped subtle hints. I've told you straight up from the beginning. Where have you been?"
Realization sinks in, and her green eyes brighten. "I've been right here, waiting for you to wise up. Apparently, your speed of time travel has clouded my senses."
Miller's Time (Southern Charmers Series Book 2) Page 13