Right. He gets to dictate what I’m doing because he and my parents hold the keys to my trust fund. I grunt in acknowledgement and hang up the phone, tossing it onto my desk and sighing.
I bring my hands up to my face and massage my temples. This election is driving me crazy. Adrian thinks he runs the whole fucking world, and from my perspective, he basically does. Ever since my fucking damaged heart killed my dreams of Olympic gold, I’ve been second-best to my older brother.
And I hate it.
It’s not until I got out of the hospital and got plopped into the CEO position at the Heart Start Foundation that I realized how few marketable skills I really have. My whole life has been about running. My entire childhood and adolescence were structured around training.
Now, it’s all gone.
I have nothing. No prospects, no skills, no job experience.
All I have is my parents and their money, connections, and fucking trust fund.
I’d cut myself off if I could, but where would that leave me? On the streets, with the rest of the dregs of society.
I rest my elbows on my desk and talk myself down from the ledge. If I just do this a little while longer, I’ll be able to start my own business with the trust fund money. I’m not exactly sure what that business will be, but it won’t be a daily reminder of the organ in my chest that ruined my life.
Once the election is over, I’ll have the money to start distancing myself from my family.
I just have to make it through the next few weeks and make sure my brother gets elected Mayor.
The event at the University goes well. I deliver a speech that my brother’s assistant, sends through, and I know that I’ve won him a couple votes by the sound of the applause when I walk off stage. The turnout is pretty good—I didn’t realize people actually cared about municipal politics.
Adrian nods at me before he takes the stage. It’ll be easy to follow my speech—they’ll be eating out of his hand. I take a seat to the side of the stage and glance at my phone. I grin when I see the notification for a new email. Subject line: Ashley King - signed contract
My heart thuds against my ribcage as I open the email. She’s had her lawyer read over the contract and is satisfied, and she’ll be at the office at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I open the contract and skim through it, checking that she’s signed and initialed where required. A smile spreads over my face when I see her swooping signature on the last page, dated today.
I jump when Adrian drops his hand on my shoulder. He grins at me.
“You warmed them up well, little brother. I had them right where I wanted them.”
“Congratulations.” I don’t quite succeed in stripping all the sarcasm from my voice, but Adrian doesn’t seem to notice.
He nods toward the black SUV parked in the street. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Who?”
“Come on.” I have to jog to catch up to him and match his long strides. Cheryl, his assistant, opens the back door for him, and I slide in after him. She closes the door after us and gets in the front seat.
I notice the way her breasts strain against the sheer fabric of her blouse, but it does nothing for me. She’s an attractive woman, but it’s like I’m noticing it in a detached kind of way. I frown, and then take a deep breath.
“Where are we going?”
“To the riverfront.” Adrian looks at his phone, scrolling through emails while Cheryl makes a phone call. I just sit there, staring out the window as we wind our way through the Denver streets toward the South Platte River. We turn down a small lane onto a gravel patch. A white pickup truck waits for us. Its lights flash as we park up next to it.
Adrian slides out of the back seat with his dimply smile already plastered to his face.
“John!” He exclaims. “Good to see you. Thanks for meeting me. This is my brother, Liam.”
The portly man pumps my hand up and down, smiling with a mouthful of yellowing teeth.
“Liam, hi,” he grins. “We met the other night at the Construction Awards.”
“Of course,” I respond. I don’t recognize him, but most of my memories from that night are taken up by Ashley King.
Adrian clears his throat. “John was kind enough to meet us here tonight to talk about our plans for the riverfront.”
“Big plans,” John says, spreading his palms apart. He waddles to his truck and pulls out two glossy folders. He hands them to us and I notice that every finger has a ring on it. Mr.-fucking-T nods at me as I take the folder from him.
South Platte Riverfront Development
Hansen Construction, Inc.
“I’ve incorporated your comments into the proposal. Over here,” he sweeps his arms toward the river, “we’ll have a thirty-story condominium block, with a full commercial area for cafes, restaurants, and a vibrant mall. We have plans for a playground and tennis courts down there.”
We walk with John as he explains the plans. It’s a three hundred million dollar project to build up a half mile of the riverfront property.
“So, all we need is the stamp of approval from Council, and we’ll be off to the races.” John sticks his hands in his pockets.
“And you’ll get it, as soon as I’m in office. This will change Denver forever,” Adrian nods. His eyes are glossy as he looks over the area. A smile floats over his lips and he claps a hand on John’s shoulder. “And thank you very much to Hansen Constructions for your generous campaign donations.”
John’s lips twitch up and he nods his head quickly. “I’m glad we’ve been able to establish this partnership. Once this project opens up the waterfront, you’ll be in the Governor’s office for sure.”
“Let’s focus on this election first,” Adrian grins. He shakes the man’s hand and we head back toward our waiting car.
When we get in, Adrian points to the patch of gravel and undeveloped land. “This is going to be my legacy—our legacy. I wanted to show you what this whole mayoral campaign is about, put it into context. Once I’m Mayor, the Maguire name will be stamped on this city forever. I’ll have a clear shot at the Governor’s office, and after that, who knows?”
His eyes are shining as he looks at the undeveloped land. Suddenly, it all makes sense. This isn’t about the mayoral campaign. All this—the speeches, the campaign, the foundation that my family forced me to run—it’s about getting my brother into the Governor’s office, and after that… The way his eyes are shining, it sounds like he has his eye on the White House.
I take a deep breath and watch the white pickup drive away. I nod to it. “I thought there were strict rules for city project tenders. You can’t just promise this guy the job, can you?”
Adrian waves the question away. “With the amount of money he’s investing into the campaign, he’ll win a lot more than this project. Once I’m mayor, his future is set. I’m the fucking golden goose for that guy, and he’s my ticket out of municipal politics.”
I frown. “That doesn’t sound legal.”
“It’s politics, Liam. Legality isn’t relevant.” Adrian looks at me with pity in his eyes. He shakes his head. “You never did get it, did you? All this? What Mother and Father sacrificed for us, what it’s taken to get me in this election, what it’ll take to get me further? All you ever cared about were your little races.”
Anger flares inside me, burning bright and hot. It sears through my chest like an asteroid burning through the atmosphere. I know that Adrian is just pushing my buttons. He knows how to get me mad. So instead of reacting, I just scoff.
“No, I guess I didn’t. I’m just in this for the trust fund.”
My brother arches an eyebrow in disgust, shaking his head. Then, his phone dings and he goes back to his emails. I go back to staring out the window, and I count the seconds until I can get out of this car, this life, this prison.
13
Ashley
I take special care when doing my hair and makeup before heading into work at the Heart Start Fo
undation. I’ve got time—it’s not like I could sleep last night, anyway.
My lipstick leaves a pink mark on my coffee mug and I wipe it off with my thumb. I toss the rest of the coffee in the sink and check my makeup one last time before walking out the door.
By the time I park my car outside my new workplace, my nerves are out of control. I grip my steering wheel and take a deep breath. Finally, with one last breath, I grab my second-favorite, non-ink-stained purse and head for the front door.
Surprisingly, when I get in the elevator my nerves seem to calm down. Confidence starts to seep into my body and by the time I make it to the sixteenth floor, I’m smiling.
I have a new job, at an exciting non-profit organization. I’m making way more money than before, and my boss is drop-dead gorgeous. Any of those things on their own would be cause for celebration, and I’ve got all three.
Not only that, but I feel more like myself than I have in nearly seven years.
The receptionist smiles at me when I step out of the elevator.
“You must be Ash,” she says, standing up and stretching her hand toward me. “I’m Linda. Liam told me you were starting today.”
“Hi, Linda,” I nod. She has kind eyes.
“Come on, I’ll show you your desk. We’ve put you in the back over here with the rest of the comms team. This is Tristan, Belinda, and Marcus.”
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Marcus grins. He’s wearing a bright purple jacket with a polka-dot neck scarf and has an impressive moustache. He twirls the end of his moustache between his fingers as he looks me up and down. “Shabby chic, I like it.”
My eyebrows twitch up and I stare at him for a second, trying to figure out whether he was complimenting me or insulting me. He turns to Belinda.
“Belle, tell me about your Tinder date last night. Was he every bit as gorgeous as he looked in his pictures?”
Belinda puts her hands up and makes an exasperated noise. “Don’t even get me started.”
Marcus winks at me. “Pull up a chair, new girl. This is going to be good.”
Linda arches her eyebrows and grins at me before walking away. I sit down at my desk. Tristan nods at me, and Marcus crosses his legs in anticipation.
“He was nothing like his pictures,” Belinda sighs. “Honestly, those pictures must have been from 2001, because the dude was about twenty years older than his profile says.”
Marcus giggles, and Tristan’s lips curl upward. He’s still typing at his computer, but I can tell he’s listening to every word.
“First thing he says to me? ‘We’re splitting the bill, right?’ I mean—are you serious?!”
Marcus laughs and glances at me, pursing his lips.
“Tinder,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sure you have horror stories of your own. I bet the Tinder boys just eat you up.” He twirls his finger up and down in my direction.
I scoff, shaking my head. “I’m not exactly a ‘Tinder’ kind of girl.” All three of them tilt their heads as they stare at me. My cheeks flush.
Marcus makes a squeaking noise and shakes his head. “To each their own, I suppose. Doing it the old fashioned way is more effort than it’s worth, in my opinion.”
“If by ‘doing it the old fashioned way’ you mean spending the last year trying to forget that men exist, then yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing,” I laugh. My cheeks burn hotter. I’m not used to sharing anything personal. But Belinda just sighs sympathetically.
“Heartbreak, huh?” Tristan finally speaks.
I smile sadly. “Something like that.”
“Well,” a voice says from behind me. “I see you’re making yourself at home, Ash.”
All the air is sucked out of the room at the sound of Liam’s voice. Warmth floods my womb and my back straightens. My cheeks flush again as I turn to see Liam Maguire in all his sex-god glory. His crisp white shirt is stretched over his perfect body, and his grey slacks fit him perfectly. His dark hair is tousled, as usual, and his eyes are glued on me.
“Seems like a good team you’ve got here, Mr. Maguire.”
He takes a step toward me and presses his hand against my desk. His legs brush against mine and he leans toward me.
“What did I say about calling me Mr. Maguire?” His voice is a low growl, and it sends all kinds of shivers through my body. Flames ignite in my veins and for the first time since Monday, I start to think this job may not have been a good idea after all.
Having a hot boss seemed great in the elevator, but when his body is inches from mine, it feels more inconvenient than anything.
I drag my eyes up toward his face and my breath catches in my throat. My lips fall open and his eyes linger on them. I shrug.
“Oops,” I whisper.
He stares at me for a moment longer and then straightens up, clearing his throat. He glances at the rest of the communications team and nods. “Show Ash the ropes and get her up to speed. I want to flood our social media with success stories about the race last weekend, and a new PR plan for the next quarter.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Marcus says, saluting Liam. A cheeky grin floats across his lips, but Liam ignores it. He walks away, taking my breath with him.
It’s not until Marcus stands up and leans toward me that I snap out of my stupor. He puts on a deep voice.
“What did I say about calling me Mr. Maguire?”
Belinda and Tristan start laughing and Marcus shakes his head, looking me up and down.
“Looks like Mr. Maguire has got the hots for our new PR manager,” he grins.
“No, I don’t think… I’m not…” I trail off, looking at my new coworkers and sighing. I bite my lip and Belinda grins.
“What were you saying about the ‘old fashioned way’?”
“Shut up, you guys,” I blush, turning toward my desk. I start laughing and shake my head, and then steal a glance toward Liam’s office. The door is closed and the blinds are drawn, and I’m glad he can’t see how red my face is right now.
Red texts me around lunchtime, asking how I am. I smile when I see her name on my phone. I don’t make friends easily, especially after everything with Randy, so it feels good to have someone check up on me.
Ashley: Hey! I’m good… I took the job. Just started today.
Red: You didn’t!
Ashley: I did.
Red: Terrible idea, friend.
Ashley: Probably, yeah.
Red: Come for a beer with me tonight. I need more details.
I smile, and my heart grows. I don’t remember the last time a friend invited me out for a drink. It’s been years, probably. Randy didn’t like me going out much.
Ashley: Sure. I’ll text you when I finish up at work.
By the end of the day, my head is spinning and a nice beer with Red sounds like a dream. I pack up my purse and stand up when Liam appears at his office door.
“Ashley,” he calls out, nodding for me to come to him.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I walk toward him. They get more and more violent with every step I take. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and watches me—I can’t explain how much I like it.
I want him to watch me like that. I want his eyes to be on me. My gaze drifts to his biceps, bulging against his chest until he drops his arms and pushes himself off the door frame.
“Just saw the resume you sent in with your contract.” He rubs his jaw and nods toward his computer. “You worked with Hansen Constructions?”
“I did.” My eyebrows draw together.
Liam studies me. “You know a guy named John? Wears lots of rings?”
“Yeah, he’s the one who fired me.”
Liam says nothing. He looks me in the eye for a few moments and then nods. He stares at the ground and frowns, lost in his own thoughts.
“Is that it? I mean, do you need anything else?”
Liam looks at me as if he’d forgotten I was there.
So much for him staring at me lik
e I’m the only thing that exists.
He nods. “Yeah. Have a good night.”
His question swirls in my head until I see Red sitting at the bar. When I tell her about it, she just snorts and shakes her head.
“Who knows why he was asking. He probably wanted to check out his competition.” She takes a big gulp of beer and I laugh.
“Wouldn’t exactly call John competition. You saw him, didn’t you?”
“Hey, I don’t know what you’re into, Goldilocks.”
“Not that,” I laugh. “I have some standards.”
“Coulda fooled me.” Red grins at me and orders another round. I start protesting and then decide against it. It’s been too long since I had a friend to talk to like this—I might as well enjoy it.
14
Liam
By the time I leave the office, the sun has gone down and the air is fresh. Even in summertime, it gets cool at night here. I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk toward my car, mulling over what I’ve learned.
I can’t figure out if there’s a connection between Ashley getting fired, and the riverfront contract with Hansen Constructions.
Unease settles in my chest. Something isn’t right. I know politics are politics, but this is straight up corruption. My brother is accepting campaign donations in exchange for a three hundred million dollar construction contract. As far as I can tell, Hansen Constructions has never handled a project that big.
Based on my research tonight, they’ve had a string of controversies regarding their quality control—controversies that Ashley did well to minimize. I saw her name on press releases and quotes in articles.
At least I know she’s good at her job—that’s something, I guess.
What if she knew something was going on, and she chose to ignore it? What happens if my brother finds out I’ve hired her?
I look up, and I realize I’ve driven home without even noticing. I don’t remember getting in my car or driving at all. The last thing I remember is stepping outside the office. I shake my head and walk toward my house—my mansion, really—and try to dispel the worry from my heart.
Love/Hate: The Complete Enemies to Lovers Series Page 25
