Can't Buy My Love: Billionaire and Virgin Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  He mouths, “New boyfriend?” and points at Tommy.

  I nod, but whisper to him, “Now is not the time, Jake. I will tell you more about that later. For now, I really, really need to talk to you.”

  I tap Tommy on the shoulder, pull him close to me.

  “We need to talk to you.” I pause, seeing how ghostly pale Tommy looks and how shaky he feels to the touch, even though his hands aren’t visibly shaking.

  Jake reads the distress on my face, the whiteness on Tommy’s, and says, “What’s the trouble?”

  His voice is tense, clipped, as if he’s already starting to figure something out, even though I haven’t told him anything yet. If this is one of Jake’s “superpowers”— reading people’s body language and decoding secrets — I can understand why Davies and Sons is one of the best law firms in the city.

  If there’s one thing lawyers need almost as much as an intimate, well-rounded understanding of the law, it’s the ability to read and understand the lines between deception and truth, and what they can reveal. And I suspect that Jake is a regular wizard at reading and decoding these lines.

  “It’s in regard to a Joan Vanacore,” I say, quietly, very aware that our waiter is going to walk over here any minute and start trying to take our order. “She just started as the head of the new legal department at McKenzie Tech.”

  “Yes, I know about her,” he says. “Another of the more recent mergers.”

  “Well, she—”

  “She sexually harassed me,” says Tommy, suddenly jumping into the conversation.

  As if he’s just been brought to life by the name of his tormentor, Tommy goes from being almost lifeless to on fire.

  To Jake’s look, what I can only interpret as, oh no, here’s another so-called sexual harassment charge, that’s going to end up not being one, after all, Tommy bares his teeth and lunges in further.

  “She’s been doing it ever since she hired me as her assistant a few weeks ago. She thinks that just because I’m her ‘protégé’ that I’m going to be okay with whatever she wants, and that I’m just hers to play with since she hired me.”

  Here, Tommy’s voice begins to crack and quake.

  “Over the last few weeks, I’ve decided to try to gather evidence on her. Proof that she is a true-blue predator to any younger guy that works for her, so I played along with her little game. But today she did something that is no game, and isn’t something I can play around with.”

  I blush, watching Jake’s face get all kinds of fucked-up. He’s not sure how in the hell he’s supposed to feel, that much is obvious.

  He looks equal parts horrified, irritated, and downright confused. Sprinkled in here is a little bit of pride and shock at what Tommy’s just told him he’s been trying to do. But all of that clears the way in the next moment, being replaced by seriousness again.

  Several lines and shadows dot his face as he looks at Tommy and says, “And what did she do today, Tommy? What did she do today that was so different than any other day that you were playing along with her, as you put it?”

  Right before Tommy has a chance to really answer, the waiter does flit on over and ask us what we’d like to have for drinks or food. I haven’t really bothered to look at the menu, and neither has Tommy, so we just ask Jake to order something he thinks we might enjoy, and leave it at that.

  Right after our waiter disappears to take our order back to the kitchen, some other guy in a bunch of sparkly clothes gets up on the stage and starts announcing some kind of show. Some kind of music or dance routine about to start shortly.

  “What happened?” Jake presses the issue again, making sure to keep Tommy on track.

  “She sexually assaulted me,” says Tommy. “She pulled a gun on me and tried to rape me, okay?”

  Now it’s Jake’s turn to match Tommy’s pale color. It’s even worse than his, as even his lips drain of color, not just his cheeks.

  “Oh, no, no, no,” he says, “no, no, no, that cannot be allowed to go unreported.”

  He looks at me, then at Tommy.

  “What are you guys doing here? You should be back at the office, reporting this to HR or the police.”

  The way his eyebrows knit together, the way he partially scowls at us, it’s like we’re the irresponsible ones.

  “With all the rumors going around, with all the image trouble McKenzie Tech has already been having…” He stops, sighs. “It needs to be stopped. Nipped in the bud. Vanacore along with it. She cannot be allowed to cost your company what’s left of its reputation.”

  He drags his hands down his face, just as the waiter comes back with our drinks — simple beers in green bottles.

  “We are here, Jake, because it’s not safe for Tommy to be there right now. And, since I was the one who’s been driving him into work all this week, I had to be the one to get him out of the office. And I’ll have to be the one to get him home, but that’s beside the point.”

  I pause, wiping my own hands down my face.

  “I came here with him to try to get away for a while. Come up with a plan. And then I see you sitting here. So you’ve got to help us, Jake. You’ve got to figure out some way to help me manage this for Tommy and for everyone at McKenzie Tech.”

  It seems to be fate, from where I’m sitting.

  I just hope Jake feels the same.

  Chapter Sixty - Melissa

  I crack open Tommy’s beer for him, and he chugs it. I don’t bother to tell him to slow down or go easy on it, even though I want to. I know in his mental and emotional state, he’s not going to listen. He’s not going to care.

  I crack open mine and sip at it, though I’m shaking just as bad as Tommy was, and probably still is.

  Jake rakes his hands down his face again, and then through his hair before answering. When he does, it’s exactly what I would expect a lawyer to do, even on his lunch break.

  “These bits of sexual harassment and now sexual assault that Tommy’s alleging, did you Did you bear witness to any of it, Melissa? Can you be counted on as a witness?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I heard the attempted rape over the phone. Tommy had the foresight to dial out of his office to my number and try to catch some of it somewhere other than the walls of that room.”

  I pause, feeling sick to my stomach all over again.

  “That’s when I sprang into action and tried to do anything and everything I could to disrupt what I heard Vanacore trying to do. I tried to do that by calling her office.”

  As our food arrives — a family-style platter of basically fried foods greatest hits, onion rings, mozzarella sticks, fries, and homemade pizza bites — Jake lets out a stressed, measured breath.

  “And your relationship? Does anyone know about it? Depending on the answer, this could prove helpful or problematic to what I’m going to do with this information.”

  “No one to my knowledge is aware—”

  “Except for Vanacore,” snaps Tommy. “She knows. Told me she knew about it for the whole week and was just not letting on until she could get to me, wreck me, and any future with her.”

  His eyes glance at me.

  Jake groans.

  “That’s going to really mess things up, especially with you working under her, Tommy.”

  He pauses, picking up an onion ring, and biting carefully into it. How he manages to do all that without burning his mouth, I’ll never know.

  “This is going to make it complicated. It’s going to make it easy for Vanacore to imply that you and Melissa have something going on as well, and could use that to her advantage when defending herself against your claims.”

  “I’ve got proof,” snaps Tommy again, as if he’s almost momentarily forgotten how the law works. He takes out his phone and shakes it at Jake. “I’m not claiming anything.”

  I touch Tommy’s arm.

  “He knows, honey. And you know. You know the law needs facts and evidence until they can assemble anythi
ng more than that, they have to call it a claim.”

  I turn back to Jake.

  “Be that as it may, what do we do now?”

  “We finish up here. I’ll go to McKenzie Tech, tell Kane what you’ve told me and that I’m representing you, then go from there.”

  He pauses, taking a sip of his alcoholic drink, and moving from an onion ring to a mozzarella stick. He dips it carefully, precisely into the little jar of marinara provided.

  “While I’m there doing that, you take Tommy back to your place or whatever. Wherever you think it is going to be better than the office, and then you come back. I’m going to need you to tell me anything and everything you know about this whole situation between Tommy and Vanacore, and give us any evidence you have.”

  He shrugs, taking a bite of the dipped end.

  “After that, it really depends on Kane and the rest of the head honchos. Where and how they go about dealing with Vanacore.”

  He looks at me carefully, then at Tommy.

  “In the meantime, I’d suggest you take a vacation, Tommy. Find some reason to stay away from the office for at least a couple of weeks.”

  “Already on it,” I say, grabbing up a few fries, and daring to taste a mini pizza pastry. “I was already planning to put Tommy on personal leave for the next two weeks, once I get back to the office.”

  “Good.” Jake takes another sip of his drink, and then another bite of his mozzarella stick. “Then there’s nothing more to talk about. Only things left to do.”

  Tommy and I nod, both settling into the plate of food, though we’re both not that hungry. All I want to do is get him home, back to my place, as I don’t think it will be a good idea for him to go back to his dad’s not with what will get potentially leaked out into the public over the next few days and weeks — even with tight lips all around.

  The next thing I want to do is make sure Vanacore goes down. Not just in the public eye as a predator and someone who has no right to be practicing law, but down in flames for all eternity.

  Chapter Sixty-One - Tommy

  After lunch, Melissa makes good on her word. She practically spirits me away back to her place in her car, telling me to just sit tight and try not to think about anything or worry about anything too much. I tell her I’ll try my best, but I know that’s going to be all it is: a try, an attempt at feeling normal.

  Even now, even as I’m sitting in Melissa’s car, watching the familiar streets go by that will lead us to her upscale condo, I haven’t really left Vanacore’s office. I haven’t really left the desk or the window I stood against as she had that gun on me. Even now I can feel her hands on me. Her hands trying to rip off my pants and grab my dick to try to fuck me.

  This remains the case inside Melissa’s condo, too. All the way up the stairs and through the front door, during all of that time, I’m still reliving every moment of Vanacore’s malicious hunt of me in her office. Every grab, every launch for me, I’m feeling and seeing flashes of it in her paintings. In the little shadows cast on the wall from where the light doesn’t completely reach.

  As Melissa guides me down onto the living room couch (the very same living room couch we had sex on a little less than a week ago), she kisses me gently, first on the forehead, then on my nose, that on my lips.

  “You’re safe now, honey. Please try to relax. Try to take care of yourself while I’m at work for the rest of the day, okay?”

  Again, like I did in the car, I nod. I tell her sure, I’ll do my best, but I don’t know if I can, or what that even looks like. All I know is that I’m not quite myself, and I’m not likely to be for a while. Not with Vanacore’s ghost touching me from the recesses of my mind. Not with her lusty bright eyes fresh in my memory.

  “You’re safe,” Melissa reiterates. “You’re completely safe here, Tommy.”

  She gives me another kiss on my forehead.

  “Anything you need, anything you want you to have while I’m gone, food, wine, a soak in the tub, whatever you want on TV, all of that’s open and available to you, my love.”

  “Sure,” I say, but none of that sounds good, or like it will make a difference, but I know Melissa wants to feel like she’s doing something good for me, given the circumstances, so I thank her.

  I tell her how sweet and generous she is to let me stay with her.

  “This condo wasn’t made for just a bachelor, Tommy,” she says, giving me a warm, intimate hug. “It was made to share with a boyfriend. A husband.”

  Under these words, I’m feeling a little less haunted, a little less spellbound by my memories of Vanacore.

  “I love having you here. I’d have you here all the time, even if circumstances didn’t demand this to be your safe house.”

  She pulls away from me, reiterating her offers, that anything and everything in this condo that’s her is mine for my comfort and happiness. Again, I tell her I’m grateful, and that I’ll try to make use of some of it while she’s gone.

  With a promise to be home no later than six p.m. after going to the grocery store to pick up food to make me dinner with, Melissa leaves me home alone. Like she’s my mother and father wrapped up into one being who actually gives a fuck, she locks her door securely then double bolts it.

  When she’s gone, I allow myself to cry all the tears I’ve been holding back from after my encounter with Vanacore and my brush with sexual exploitation of the most intimate variety. I also let myself properly freak out, allowing myself to hug pillows, curl up in them, and talk to the Vanacore demon in my head. The way she had control over me with her eyes. The way she initially sucked me into work for her made me feel like I was strong enough to contend with her but ended up being completely helpless.

  I have no idea for how long I do this, but I eventually decide I’ve cried and panicked myself through enough emotions and pent-up fears for a shower. Which is what I start undressing to do, right is my phone rings.

  Initially, I hope it’s Melissa calling me, telling me she’s at the office okay.

  But that quickly evaporates, the moment I see my home phone calling me. I almost don’t pick up. I say almost, because at the last moment, “good boy,” “good son,” Tommy picks up because he knows it’s Dad calling. And you don’t leave Dad hanging, no matter how much you just want to do without him.

  Logically, I know he’s the last person I need to be talking to right now, right after what happened, but old habits die hard.

  “Dad,” I say.

  The first thing he does is burp into the speaker. It’s a really long, juicy one. Ridiculously echoing. Unnecessarily vile and dismissive.

  “So, you’re not dead. I’ve been checking the newspaper for you in the headlines. ‘Fat and bloated dick found at the side of the road, probably killed by his coworkers,’ but I didn’t see anything like that, so I called you directly.”

  At this point, I don’t even have the energy to address how rude and cruel the things he greeted me with are. There’s no point. It’ll just make him all the more creative in his next insulting words to me.

  “I’ve been at work,” I say, swallowing all the terrible visions I have of Vanacore trying to corner me and trying to have her way with me. “I’ve been staying with my girlfriend since you don’t care whether I’m there are not.”

  “Of course, I care, boy,” he says, burping around those words. “Who’s going to buy me all the food and drink I need?”

  “Thanks,” I growl, fighting to not break my phone and half or throw it against the wall.

  “So I bet she’s not charging you anything to stay with her, is she? Bet she lets you stay there as long as you want, as long as you get her off, right?” Dad laughs, and he’s the only one laughing.

  “If it worked that way, sexual favors for rent, maybe Mom would’ve stayed with your sorry ass. That is if you ever bothered to pleasure her.”

  Under my breath, I whisper “fucker” and regret ever picking up the phone for him.
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br />   “You watch your mouth, boy,” he says.

  “You watch yours,” I say, “you’re the backward hick who thinks he can say and do whatever he wants about my life, about how I’ve become successful in life, while he just sits there and gets fatter, dumber and less attractive with every year.”

  I take a deep breath.

  “I’m on my lunch break. If you don’t have anything more important to do then insult me, make me remember why I don’t miss being around you, I’ve got to get back to work.”

  I don’t even bother to wait for him to answer. I already know he’s going to take what I just said as another opportunity to just be cruel and willfully ignorant about everything around him.

  I hang up, not feeling the least bit remorseful by cutting him off in the middle of another sentence. It’s probably just as filthy as the last.

  From there, I decide to turn my phone off. In case he decides to keep calling me and harassing me under the guise of “oh, our call got dropped,” or something like that.

  I wander to the master bedroom and undress. I take off all my work clothes. As I do, I imagine that I’m trying to take off all the bad memories and images woven into them at the moment.

  From there, I go into the luxurious master bath, which feels large and lonely without Melissa there to help fill the space. I decide to get in the shower that’s here, not the Jacuzzi tub this time I need something that’s going to rinse away the ugliness I feel all over me, not let me soak in it.

  Chapter Sixty-Two - Melissa

  Back at the office, shortly after lunch and shortly before Isabella returns to her desk next to mine, I do exactly what I’ve promised both Tommy and Jake I would do: I put Tommy on personal leave, blocking out two weeks from today. It’s easy enough to do, as when I check with Charlotte in HR, he’s got more than enough time banked up to take off two weeks or double that or triple that even, since he’s never, ever taken a vacation. Not since getting hired here.