She steps up to me, reaches out, and then her nails press against my shirt, digging in through the material against my skin. “Oh, dear husband, that’s where you’re wrong. The L belongs to us. Or did you forget? As your wife, I’m entitled to fifty percent of everything.” Her words slither out like poison from a snake.
“No, Chelsea. I didn’t forget.” There it is, my life’s work hanging over me. If I make trouble, she’ll take half. I really am a fucking idiot. How I didn’t see her for the money hungry bitch she is, is beyond me. But the wool was pulled real fast once I signed the papers binding her to me for life. We weren’t even married a year before her true colors began to show. When my father threw me out of Lancaster Holdings, every last semblance of her fa?ade came crashing down.
Chelsea and I met at Lancaster Holdings, where she was a secretary who’d worked her way up over the years. She was cutthroat, dedicated, and one of the smartest women I’d ever met. On top of being gorgeous, she was exotic. Sinfully beautiful. I had to have her and have her I did. We kept our relationship secret at first, but then she made it clear she wouldn’t stay with me if I didn’t take it to the next level. And that was when everything went to shit. Dad knew. He saw what I was too blind to notice.
But I was too goddamn blind to see past anything back then. Now I’m not. Now I see everything, and I hate how right he was.
I turn to watch Chelsea walking toward her room. She moved out of my room years ago. As the door closes, anger swirls within me. Never once did she even bother to check on Isabella. Isabella is just a means to an end for her. She isn’t a mother. She only uses our daughter as leverage to get everything she wants from me, and I don’t object. I can’t. I can’t risk losing her, and Chelsea is enough of a bitch to take her from me.
My life is spinning out of control around me, and I can’t do a fucking thing to stop it.
Ever since Mr. Lancaster left early the other day, he’s been broodier than usual. I don’t let it bother me, though. I continue to act like business as normal. It’s become a fairly easy routine. I hate Mr. Lancaster, and he hates me back. He barks orders, and I grin and bear it. Personally, I think it pisses him off when I smile at his rudeness. Maybe I shouldn’t tease the beast, but it’s too much fun. Eventually, he’ll give up or fire me.
Sitting in my office in front of my own computer, I look down at my ever-growing to-do list. Today’s email from Mr. Lancaster is even snippier than the last. Normally, he barks at me to come into his office to hear the list. When he’s like that, I keep to myself. I welcome the emails, though. It’s easier and makes the day go faster.
I wonder what is up his ass today.
I know I shouldn’t care, but I can’t help but wonder since it directly affects my day. What makes him so bitter to the world? Even after working together these past few weeks, there’s little I know of him. I tried to get more information, but everything before these last few months is a mystery. There are years after his estrangement from his dad and when he was ousted from Lancaster Holdings that are a complete mystery.
As I’m just about to pack up for the day, I hear a cough from my door. Looking up, I see him standing there.
“You need to work late tonight,” he snaps. It isn’t a question. “We have so much to do before the opening of the new hotel, and I need you to finish these papers.”
“For sure. I don’t mind at all.” I smile at him. Kill him with kindness. Kill him with kindness.
“Really?” He genuinely looks shocked.
Laying it on thick, I say, “Of course. Hey, that’s what I’m here for, remember? The more I learn, the better.”
“Thank you.” He softens. “You’re good at this. You have an eye for things that most people don’t. I need you.”
My mouth drops open at his bipolar personality. One minute he’s yelling, now this? My cheeks warm and I hope he doesn’t notice. “Um, thank you.”
“Besides, you’re very honest, and I need that right now.”
“To a fault, at times,” I agree.
“I prefer honesty. Trust me, it’s always better in the long run.”
I can’t help but see the ironies of that statement. If only he had been honest in the beginning, all of this hostility could have been avoided. I think he’s going to say more, say anything, but instead, he hands me a sheet of paper. He’s all business again. But I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less from him. I look up, and he waves his hand.
“Carry on.”
Dickhead Lancaster is back.
I’m sitting on my couch, replaying every minute of my day. The strange encounter with my boss and his split personality.
With a lift of my hand, I bring the glass of wine to my mouth. With each sip I take, my body loosens. Why does he have to be so handsome? Maybe if he wasn’t it wouldn’t be so hard to be near him. Instead, I constantly have to remind myself I can’t think of him like that. But with my inhibitions lowered, I can’t help but remember the first night I met him and how it felt. What would it be like if I had another moment alone with him? Would he kiss me again? Would he taste me? Would I taste him?
My breasts feel heavy. As if they need to be touched. The thought of Grant’s caress has my core clenching with anticipation. But he’s not here. It’s just me, and I’m desperate for relief. How long has it been since I’ve come? Since I’ve had someone fuck me.
Too long.
Closing my eyes, I imagine what it’d be like if I weren’t alone right now. If my hands weren’t mine, but his instead.
“Take off your clothes,” he’d order, and I’d have no choice but to obey.
My nipples pebble and peak under my shirt. With a lift of my hand, I grasp and knead my breast through the thin material, pulling and pinching each nipple as if they were his hands.
His teeth.
Every nerve ending inside me is on full alert, my core tightening desperately in need of being filled. So I do, I give myself what I want.
With a slow, steady breath, my hand trails down to where I’m hot and ready.
I don’t allow myself to stop, thrusting two fingers deep within, plunging them inside me, thrusting in and out.
Gasps of air.
I’m so close.
It’s not enough. I need more.
My thumb begins to circle as I push deeper inside me, hooking my fingers up until they find the perfect spot, mimicking the ministration of a skilled lover. With my head thrown back, my vision blurs, and I crash over the edge.
It takes a minute for my breath to regulate, but when it does, I can’t believe what I just did. It’s not that I touched myself; it’s the fact I thought of him when I did it that has me mortified.
My face feels flush, much warmer than just a moment ago.
How will I be able to look at him tomorrow?
Shit.