by Kelly Myers
“As your assistant or your date?”
“My date,” I say. “But, it’s probably not wise to tell anyone yet.” She pulls her hand away from mine and, instead, wraps them both around the mug. I see a coolness settle over her features. Shit. “Only because I don’t want anyone to make a snap judgement. I don’t want them to dismiss you as some fuckable assistant.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she concedes.
“You’re more than that and I want everyone to know it.”
Ashley nods, takes a sip of her coffee. “Now maybe you can ask me how I feel and what I want?”
My brow furrows. I never consider the idea that she may not want to be with me. After last night, why wouldn’t she? It was fucking amazing and-
Maybe it wasn’t as good for her, I think. Then, I remember her telling me about a boyfriend and it’s like a punch to the face. I grit my jaw and clutch my mug in a death grip. There’s no way in hell I’m letting her go back to some second-rate asshole.
“Drew?”
My gaze snaps up and I frown. “Is this about your boyfriend?” I ask darkly.
She looks at me a moment and I swear I see amusement in those pretty blue eyes. “I told you I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“What about the guy you said you’re seeing?”
She makes a cute little face. “I was kind of referring to Andy when I said that,” she admits.
A wave of relief passes through me and the jealousy disappears. “Me?”
“Yes, you!” She touches my arm and smiles. “But, if you must know, my last relationship was two and a half years ago.”
I can’t help it. I frown and my stomach twists. I fucking hate this guy, whoever he is, and I hope he owns a company so I can take it over. “What happened?” I ask. I figure the more details I have, the easier it will be to find and destroy him.
“His name was Ben and he ended up not being a very nice guy.”
My heart sinks. “Did he hurt you?” I ask through clenched teeth. I swear to God, if the asshole so much as raised a hand to her, I was going to hunt him down and make him pay.
“No! I mean, not physically. He didn’t beat me or anything like that. He just destroyed me in a different way.”
I take both her hands in mine. “Tell me, Leigh.”
She drags her gaze away from mine and studies a spot on the counter. “Ben was a client of my brother’s and I had seen him around the office when I would help out. He was always polite, even flirty, but he had a girlfriend. A fiancée, actually. Well, they broke up and he started dropping by the office more and more, to hang out and talk to me. He was cute and the attention was nice. I’d never had a boyfriend. When he asked me out, I said yes.”
I trace my thumb across her knuckles, imagining Ben’s mutilated body, dead and tossed in a dumpster somewhere. “What happened?”
“We started spending more time together and he seemed really interested for awhile. Then, he just sort of pulled a disappearing act. I didn’t understand why. I thought maybe I did something wrong. I drove myself crazy trying to figure it out. I ended up finding out that he’d been dating another girl the whole time he was with me. Even though he told me he wanted to be exclusive. He was a liar and a cheat.”
When Ashley finally looks at me, I can see the hurt swimming in her eyes. “My self-confidence was never the greatest growing up,” she admits. “I was never very popular and always taller than all the other girls. Always so awkward. So, after he chose the other girl over me, I kind of spiraled into this black hole of self-pity. Looking back, I now realize I wasted a lot of time crying over a complete jerk.” Tears shimmer in her blue, blue eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says, and swipes them away. “I hate that I still get emotional about it.”
I pull Ashley off the stool and into my lap. She curls into me and I stroke her hair, place a kiss against her temple. “It’s not your fault he turned out to be an asshole. You trusted him and he betrayed you. He’s not worth one more of your precious thoughts or tears.”
“I know,” she says.
It’s strange. Normally, the moment a woman begins to cry, I bolt. I feel extremely uncomfortable and don’t know what to do. So, I disappear and pretend nothing ever happened. But, with Ashley, when I see her sadness, all I want to do is make it better.
I stop stroking her hair, begin thinking about how I can make Ben’s life miserable and get revenge. “What’s his last name?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
She pulls back and looks up at me. “Why?”
I shrug. “Just so I can find out if he owns a company or business that I can steal away and then destroy.”
She gives a laugh and then burrows her face in my chest. “He doesn’t.”
“Too bad,” I say. Because I would’ve enjoyed demolishing him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ashley
After our conversation in the kitchen, I feel better about my relationship with Drew. When I first woke up and saw the empty side of his bed, my heart sank. After the night we had, I didn’t know what to expect. A quick kiss on the cheek and prompt dismissal? A car and driver waiting to take me home? Never hearing from him again?
The idea of it all being over made my stomach twist with dread. But, of course, I had to find out. So, I slid his shirt on and followed the scent of strong, black coffee.
Now that I think back on it, I’m glad I confided in him about Ben. Even though the dark scowl on his face promised a swift death if Ben’s unfortunate path ever crosses Drew’s.
After finishing my coffee, Drew helps me find my scattered clothing. “I want to spend the day with you,” he says, and leisurely kisses my neck. “But, I have to go to the yacht club and meet the owner. Still a few things to lock down before the event.” My eyes slide shut as his hand slips into his oversized shirt and begins to caress my breast, coaxing my nipple into a taut peak. “How about later tonight?”
An internal alarm goes off. Even though he said last night means something to him, the message I’m getting now screams fuck buddy. And, I don’t like it. “I have plans with Laurel tonight,” I say. “I’m helping her with wedding stuff. What about tomorrow? Other than dinner with my family, I’m free.”
“Mmm, I can’t tomorrow,” he says, moving his hand to my other breast. “I’m meeting Dan. It looks like the takeover is going to happen fast now that the shareholders are getting onboard with me.”
My toes curl when his large hands move down, slide over my bare bottom and squeeze. “Guess I’ll see you Monday,” I say.
“I won’t see you until Monday?” He pulls back and disappointment flashes in those blue-black eyes. He drags me up against him, thrusts his hips forward. “That’s not acceptable, Leigh.”
A wave of liquid heat pours through me as our bodies press together. Such a perfect fit. “I need to be inside you again. Soon.” He flicks his tongue against my earlobe and I shiver.
“Then you’re going to have to make time for me,” I say, and press a kiss over his heart.
He sucks in a deep breath. “C’mon,” he reluctantly says. “I’ll drive you home. But, don’t be surprised if I show up tonight, kick Laurel out and drag you to bed.”
Later that night, while Laurel and I drink a bottle and a half of wine, I tell her that I finally met Andy last night.
“Oh, my God, Ash, spill it! Was he just as amazing as you thought? Or did he turn out to be a total weirdo?”
“Oh, he turned out to be something else all right.” I take a deep breath. “Andy is actually Drew Carson.”
Just when I think her eyes are about to pop out of their sockets, her mouth drops open and she squeals. “Holy shit! Are you fucking kidding me? How in the hell did that happen? I am so confused. He’s like that gorgeous billionaire so what is he doing on a dating app? And, oh, shit, Ash, he’s your boss!”
“Are you going to let me get a word in here?” I ask and laugh.
“Sorry, yeah, I just can’t believe that Andy is Drew. WTF?”
“He jumped on you?”
I nod and she squeals again. “It was just this all-consuming, really hot moment and before I even realized what was happening, he was kissing me. We got interrupted and I ran out. I was so embarrassed. Anyway, that’s when I decided to message Andy. We made a plan to meet up at that swank new bar a few blocks down from my office and when I walk in, I see Drew standing there, holding an espresso martini for Leigh.”
“You have got to be shitting me!” Laurel exclaims and claps her hands together in delight.
“I was so mad. We were actually both pretty pissed for a second there, but then he suggested we sit down and finish our drinks. We started talking and had another drink and then I knew it was time to go home.”
I look down and my face flushes. The moment it does, Laurel knows what happened before I even tell her.
“I ended up going back to his place and, omigod, Laurel, he lives in this insane mansion on Billionaire’s Row in Pacific Heights. The whole living room ceiling opens up. Like literally rolls back and you can walk out onto the terrace and see the whole city.”
“Okay, enough about the living room. How was his bedroom?”
I cover my face with a hand and take a long drink of wine. “So good,” I say and, again, she shrieks in happiness.
“I can’t believe you slept with Drew Carson. You had sex with a billionaire!”
“I don’t think about him like that,” I say and make a face. “He’s just Drew.”
“This is just so exciting,” she announces. “And, he’s not just some regular joe-blow off the street so do not even act like it. This man is a shark and eats people’s companies up right and left, making a fortune out of it.” She gives me a long, speculative look and then smiles. “Is he a shark in bed, too?”
I roll my eyes.
“C’mon, spill it! I want details.”
“He is…” my voice trails off as I remember last night. “He is perfect. In every way.”
She must see the dreamy look that comes over my face because suddenly she turns serious. “This isn’t like you, Ash. To fall so hard and so fast for someone.”
“I know. It’s weird because he makes me feel all these crazy emotions. One minute, I want to kill him. The next minute, I’m kissing him. It’s totally bipolar, I know. But, I’m really falling for him and it scares me.”
“Aww, sweetie,” she says and gives me a big hug. “Just be careful, okay?”
“I will,” I promise.
When I wake up Sunday morning, I don’t feel that well. My throat hurts and my head feels all stuffed-up. My mom insists that I skip Sunday dinner with her and James and stay home and rest up.
I take some cold medicine, sleep most of the day, and hope it’s just a 24-hour bug. But, when a text wakes me up around seven that evening, my body feels achy and sore. I see Drew’s name, open the text and read, “Can’t stop thinking about you. Hope dinner with your family was good.”
“I didn’t go,” I write back. “Didn’t feel well all day. Probably just a cold, but enough to make me sleep all day.”
“Don’t come in tomorrow,” he texts back. “Take tomorrow and Tuesday off and rest up. I need your healthy, gorgeous body at the benefit Tuesday night.”
“Are you sure?” I write back. I sneeze into a tissue, feeling achy all over, and know that I’d be miserable if I went to work in the morning.
“Positive. Even though I’m going to miss seeing you parade around in those heels all day. I’ll see you Tuesday night. Sweet dreams, Leigh.”
I pull my blanket up around my shoulders and snuggle down into my pillow.
The next morning, I still feel pretty crappy and take more medicine. Drew texts me and asks how I’m feeling. “Really gross,” I write back.
“I’m sorry, baby. Take it easy and load up on vitamin C.”
Around noon, my buzzer rings. I pull myself up off the couch, wondering who it is, and zombie-walk over to the front door. When I pull it open, I see a brown bag. Curious, I swipe it up and see Drew’s name on the order slip stapled to the outside.
I open the bag and see a cup of chicken noodle soup, crackers and a package of vitamin C tabs. My heart gives a funny, little kick in my chest. I think it’s one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me. I text him a thank you and the sick face emoji.
The same thing happens later at dinner time, but the brown bag has a container of white rice, a cup of bland noodles and a fortune cookie. Late Tuesday morning, another delivery of soup and crackers arrives and, this time, a sugar cookie for dessert.
Later in the afternoon, after almost three full days of rest, I’m feeling like my old self again. It’s time to get ready for the auction and I take extra care with my makeup, choosing grays and silvers and a dark charcoal liner smudged just right to give that sultry, smokey look. I twist my hair up into a loose chignon and clasp a pearl clip in it.
The most formal dress I own is a high neck, backless, Grecian-style gown that sweeps the floor and has two massive slits up the front. It’s very classy, yet extremely sexy. I choose a pair of sky-high, silver heels and do a turn in front of the mirror. I look healthy again, feel 99 percent better and can’t wait to see Drew.
Drew sends a car for me and I arrive at the Saint Francis Yacht Club in record time. Founded in 1927, the private clubhouse sits on the shores of San Francisco Bay and is one of the most esteemed yacht clubs in the world. Its members host national and international sailing championships, including the west coast’s premiere regatta, the Rolex Big Boat Series, and they have access to Tinsley Island. Located 60 miles up the delta from San Francisco, the private island is a 40- acre oasis that offers a year-round getaway for members.
Of course, Drew Carson is a member. Though, I get the impression that he doesn’t spend much time here.
A uniformed attendant holds the door open for me and I glide inside, my legs peeking through the front slits of my gown with every step I take. Everything seems perfect. The auction items look enticing on display tables along the wall and a line of wealthy individuals line up to jot bids down on silver-edged cards and then deposit them in ornate containers. Nearby, a jazz band plays a collection of swinging hits and couples dance on the floor.
Every guest is dressed to the nines and I’m glad I wore my fanciest gown. My gaze sweeps the room for Drew and I spot him chatting to an older gentleman. It’s as though he feels my presence because he looks up and our eyes connect. He instantly concludes his conversation and heads over in my direction.
Dressed in a black Tom Ford tuxedo and bow tie with a crisp white poplin shirt showing beneath, he takes my breath away. His long strides eat up the space between us and a dark brow shoots in the air as his heated gaze tilts down to admire my dress.
He reaches for my hand, pulls me closer and kisses its back. His soft lips linger and his midnight eyes keep hold of mine. “You look stunning,” he whispers.
I feel a satisfied blush heat my cheeks and I smile. “And, you look very handsome.” I notice he didn’t shave completely and a dark five o’clock shadow covers his lower face.
The dimple appears. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you. All that food really helped.”
“I’m glad.” He still holds my hand and his eyes do not waver from mine. I’m starting to feel warm and wave a hand in front of my face.
“Do you need some fresh air? You don’t have a fever, do you?” He places a hand against my forehead.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I’ve had plenty of rest and fluids.” I glance around and smile. “It looks like things are going well.”
“They are now that you’re here.” I look down, embarrassed, and he chuckles. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
Refusing to release my hand, he pulls me close and guides me over to a table where a huge arrangement of daisies sits.
“I remember you saying how much you love daisies,” he says. “So, I made sure they brought you 1,000 of them.”
My jaw drops and I laugh. The gerbera daisies are a plethora of different colors and take up the entire table. It’s like a rainbow of flowers. “I’ve never seen so many daisies in my life! It’s so pretty. Thank you, Drew.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He nods over to the auction items. “Anything you want to bid on? I’ll get it for you. Except the meet and greet with the rock band. I don’t need some rock star trying to steal you away.”
I shake my head and squeeze his hand. “I have everything I want right here.”
Our gazes meet and meld. Suddenly, the room feels excessively hot and I want nothing more than to sneak off with him and make up for not seeing each other the last few days. From the steamy look in his midnight eyes, I think he feels the same.
Suddenly, I hear someone move up behind us and we turn to see Tabitha Banks. She wears a sleeveless, black gown that hugs her slim body and has sheer lace panels that run down either side of her frame. It’s extremely sexy and I feel a tinge of insecurity.
“Well, hello, Drew’s assistant,” she murmurs and sweeps a discerning eye down my dress. “Forgive me, but your name has slipped my forgetful mind.”
“Ashley Monroe,” Drew reminds her and lays a hand against my lower back. My dress is backless and his warm fingers against my bare skin makes something inside me tingle.
“Yes, well, that’s quite a dress, Ashley.” She arches a perfectly-plucked brow.
I force a smile, not sure what she means. “Quite a dress” is hardly a compliment.
“You’re lucky to have such long legs. Someone as petite as me could never pull off a dress like that.”
I clench my teeth together and feel Drew tense beside me. Tabitha is very good at the passive-aggressive game she plays. But, I’m not in the mood.
She casts a disdainful look at Drew’s scruff. “I can’t believe you didn’t bother to shave.”