Filthy Rich

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Filthy Rich Page 2

by Matilda Martel


  I extend my hand and for the first time, our eyes meet. A strange sensation passes through me. I don’t recognize it, but my heart feels like it’s just been shaken from a long sleep. It slows, then jump starts to a dizzying speed.

  He makes no move to look away but licks his lips as his dark green gaze drifts down the length of my body, taking me in from head to toe. His fingers linger in my hands as I pull away, and the intensity of emotions swirling in my belly sends a shiver down my spine.

  I feel exposed. Naked. Giddy and awkward. No one’s ever looked at me like this. This is ten times worse than the way Jack Murphy stared at me on Prom Night and his intentions were clear.

  “Let’s get you to Jude, Ava. I don’t want to keep him waiting.” My father’s oblivious grumble breaks the spell.

  “It was nice... uh, thank you.” Words fail me. Embarrassed by my behavior and blushing from the heat of his killer stare, I shift my eyes to the floor, curtsy and slink away. Who looks at a woman that way? Who looks at a woman that way in front of her father?

  Am I a woman? Does nineteen count?

  “Hold up, Arthur. I’ll walk her over. It might sweeten her offer, if you know what I mean. Brothers.” He winks and gestures for me to follow him.

  I hesitate and glare at my father. “Dad, you’re not listening to me.” I sigh with frustration. “I don’t need an internship.”

  He pats my back and nudges me forward. “Mr. McCormick’s doing us a favor. Just play along and we’ll discuss it later. Try to make a good impression. Jude is a nice guy. If Declan tells him to hire you, he will.”

  Unbelievable.

  My mother was right. He never listens.

  5

  Declan

  “Mister, Mr. McCormick, about what I said earlier. That’s not what I meant.” She catches up quickly. Strutting with confidence, she morphs back into the girl I met in the elevator. She stands taller, as tall as you can stand when you’re under 5’5 with heels. On her own, away from her father, her shyness melts away.

  Struck by a spark of hope, I turn to face her. “So, you want to work here?”

  She shakes her head and wrinkles her nose. Apparently, my offer is cringeworthy. “Oh no, I apologize for the confusion. I meant what I said. I just didn’t mean to sound rude. I don’t want to work here. Not now. Not Ever. This internship serves no purpose. Thank you for your time, Mr. McCormick. Please relay my apologies to your brother.”

  And just like that, she pivots and storms away, leaving me in a wake of self-doubt and broken dreams. The empty feeling returns. With every tap of her heels, my heart shatters, and my ego crumbles into dust. I’m floored. Speechless. She can’t leave. Not yet. I need to say something. Do something. I need to find a way to see her again.

  “Miss Jameson?” Like a rejected puppy, I chase after her. She doesn’t turn. She makes no attempt to stop. While I call out, she hustles and weaves through wandering executives and overworked staff ready for the weekend. Someone asks me a question. I ignore it. My assistant reminds me a meeting is about to begin. I wave dismissively and keep my eyes focused on the pink-clad brunette sprinting into an empty car on the express elevator. By the time I slide into the button, she’s gone.

  What the hell just happened? I don’t remember the last time I repelled a woman with such force. There were those two years in high school when my growth spurt turned me into a freak, but I felt certain those days were past me. Jesus Christ, am I an ogre? When did I let myself go? I stay in shape. I take care of my appearance. Women say I’m attractive.

  Has it been my money all along?

  Stunned by my deficiencies, I trudge back to my office and summon the courage to go on with my day.

  She doesn’t want me. She’s Arthur’s daughter and she’s too young. This is a sign.

  Let it go.

  6

  Ava

  “You were right to leave. Once you’re reeled into a company like McCormick Media, you get hooked on the big bucks and before you know it, you’re like our parents. Is that what you want, Ava? Is that why you dragged me here? To ditch me for an office on Fifth Avenue and a six-figure income?” Bella rants while I slurp a strawberry shake and roll my head along with my eyes.

  “Who dragged you here? Me? You said, and I quote, like hell you’re leaving without me.” I point an accusing French fry at her before shoving it in my mouth.

  “Besides, it’s an unpaid internship, Miss Big Bucks. And I said I walked out. Declan McCormick practically chased me to the elevators, and I stayed firm in my refusal to interview. Jesus, my Dad’s gonna be pissed.” I take a huge bite of my burger and sulk.

  Her jaw drops as she leans into the table. “Chase you? You omitted this chase scene. Declan McCormick? As in McCormick Media? Why did the old man chase you? Did he think you were stealing something?”

  I shake my head. “He was a perfect gentleman. Much nicer than I imagined. Taller. Bigger. Easy on the eyes. I guess he really wanted me to work there.” I scroll through my phone to avoid her gaze and harness my unchaste thoughts.

  I don’t need her judgement.

  Bella slams her hand on the table. “He really wanted you to work there? Are you freaking kidding me? For what? What the hell do you know about media? You hate magazines and you never watch television.” She steals a fry and waves it in the air.

  “Was that dirty old man flirting with you?” She cocks her head and narrows her eyes.

  I lean into the table and before I know it, my lips curl into a devilish grin. “That dirty old man is freaking fine. And he’s not old. He’s thirty-eight. I checked. He’s so beautiful, it should be illegal. Why don’t boys our age look that good? It’s so unfair.” I fan myself with a napkin for effect, but she waves a hand full of fries and urges me to continue.

  “This guy had muscles up to his neck. I swear, I caught a glimpse of that little area between his chest and his neck and holy shit...beefcake....” I chirp with zeal and produce a pair of jazz hands.

  “Platysma.” She interrupts.

  “Don’t ruin this with science. He had dark green eyes, hands like a catcher’s mitt, and shoulders like a linebacker. I came this close to flirting back.” I demonstrate an inch with my fingers. “But he’s my Dad’s boss. He’s almost twenty years older than me and I think he was just being nice.”

  “Ava! What in the world did he do that makes you think he was flirting?” Bella sticks her straw into my shake and smacks her palm on the table. She hates missing out on details.

  “Yes, of course. Sorry, I’m stalling.” I take a deep breath and a quick sip of water. “It wasn’t anything he said, it was the way he stared at me. It was a provocative glare. Sexy, like bedroom eyes. When we shook hands, he caressed it longer than necessary and never broke eye contact. You know me. I never cop to guys flirting with me, but I could feel something. I don’t know… the air sizzled.”

  “Wait a minute, back up. Caressing your hand?” Her eyes grow wide. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Caress. What do you think caress means?” I frown.

  “Demonstrate.” She shoves her hand in mine.

  I push it away. “Stop that. I’m not caressing your hand. It has French fry seasoning all over it.”

  “Ava! Caress it. I can’t give you a fair evaluation if I don’t know what he did.” She pretends to shake my hand. For the sake of shutting her up, I take it and demonstrate Declan’s moves.

  “Eww! Stop that!” She recoils, slaps my hand and steals my shake. “Is that what he did?”

  “Yes, what do you think?” My cheeks heat.

  “That pervert. He did that in front of your Dad? That’s overt! That’s shameless!” She interrupts her own rant to check her phone. “Oh shit, is this him?”

  She flashes a photo of Declan McCormick running shirtless in what looks like Greece. So much muscle. So much sweat. A fucking eight-pack, an Adonis belt peeking out of his gym shorts and thighs that could crack coconuts. My God in heaven. The sheen of perspirati
on glistening off his perfect body nearly blinds me.

  I nod. “That’s him.”

  “And you didn’t flirt back? You fool. Send him my way, I’ll be his intern.”

  “No internships. We have books to write.” I chirp, annoyed by the thought of her and Declan together.

  Back off, tramp.

  “Why on earth did you run away?” She stares at me and I look away in confusion.

  “Bella! I’m not hooking up with my father’s boss! He’s too old, too rich, and way too hot for me. I wouldn’t know what to do with that much man. He’ll want interesting conversation, lingerie and nasty tricks. I’m not there yet.” I shrug and sink in my seat.

  She slaps my forearm. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Too rich? Your father’s loaded! Rich people need love too.”

  I shake my head and mumble through a mouth full of burger. “My Dad is wealthy. This guy’s filthy rich and that amount of money makes me uncomfortable. People like him are used to getting whatever they want. They think they can buy people and I’m not for sale.”

  “Who says he wants to buy you? He flirted with you. Maybe, he thought you were cute. The man is thirty-eight. He’s an old maid. Single men his age are on the prowl for wives. Don’t you read romance novels? They always have some billionaire hooking up with a shy college girl and knocking her up.” She looks over her shoulder and lowers her voice.

  Knocking me up?

  I take a deep breath and my minds drifts to the smooth feel of his fingers grazing my knuckles, the scent of his cologne and the intensity of his stare. No, stop this. You’re being silly. He shouldn’t be flirting in the workplace, and especially in front of my Dad. What if I’d followed him to his office? What then? Pushing filthy thoughts out of my head, I lean back and sigh.

  “Seriously? Romance novels?” I wrestle back my burger.

  “Hey, don’t knock it. Those books keep me warm on a cold night. Oh my God, Ava! You could be the heroine of your own romance novel! But try not to get knocked up right away. I’ve got us scheduled for our first babies, five years from now.” She winks and snatches the glass out of my hands.

  “Babies? Marriage? I spent five minutes with him. I’ve got school. Besides, I really think he was just being nice.”

  “Nice, huh?” She squints and reaches for the last of my fries. “Goddammit, Ava. If you get married before me, I’m wearing white to your wedding.”

  Huh?

  7

  Declan

  “It’s a perfectly acceptable question, Abby? Do you consider me an attractive man?” My voice rasps through clenched teeth. This is the third phone call I’ve made to a woman I dated in the past and none have given me a straight answer.

  “What does nice-looking mean?” I question her adjective. Nice-looking? Is that it? That’s all I get?

  “Are you being vindictive? This is a serious question.” When she laughs, my chest tightens with regret. What am I doing? Where’s my dignity?

  I’m such an idiot.

  “Sorry for bugging you. Take care.” I rub my chest and lay my head on my desk.

  I’m going nuts. I can’t stop thinking about this girl, my girl. And she was a girl. Petite and fresh, big blue eyes, bee-stung lips, sharp little curves and an undercurrent of mischief. Despite her rejection, there was something about her. Something deep. Something real.

  Once in a lifetime real.

  For the first time in years, my heart thumped so hard and fast I thought it would fly right out of my chest. My pulse spiked at the sight of her smile. My eyes memorized every curve and valley on her mouther-watering body. My knees weakened and my cock stiffened imagining the warm flesh of her full breasts filling my hands.

  Fuck, she’s perfect.

  After she kicked me in the teeth, I spent ten minutes talking myself off the ledge. She’s too young for me. She’s Arthur’s daughter. He’s my friend and I can’t imagine he’ll be thrilled with a man my age marrying his daughter. What would I do, if some dirty old man tried to sink his hooks in my little girl?

  You know what? I’m not even going to think about that. No sense. It won’t deter me one bit and I’ll only make myself angry.

  As you can imagine, my reflection was brief. For ten minutes, I beat myself up and then concluded that love is love. Nothing’s ever felt like this And if this is what falling in love feels like, I want more. I want it all.

  Maybe this is my chance at finding my big love.

  Shortly after she left, I phoned my lawyer to get me all the information he could find on Arthur’s daughter. It’s been close to forty minutes and still no word. I check it again, close the apps and reboot. Maybe something’s wrong with my connection. I slam it on desk. This is outrageous. Her father has been on the payroll for close to a decade. How difficult can this be?

  When the phone powers up, two texts come in, one after another.

  Ian: Sorry for the holdup. Ava Jamison is nineteen. Why do you want information on a teenager? Hold on, I’m on my way up.

  How the hell do I convey the urgency without looking like a dirty old man? Frustrated and frazzled, I stab my fingers into the keyboard and shoot off my reply.

  Me: Just get me information on her. This is a personal request.

  “Personal?” Ian’s voice startles me.

  “Ian, when did you get here?” I wave him in and rise to pour myself a drink. I’m eager to learn more. I trust him. He’s the best at what he does, but he doesn’t understand the importance. He’ll think this is silly, and I know he’ll judge me for chasing a girl young enough to be my daughter.

  “I just told you I was here. We need to go over the budget for your new building in Soho.” He snaps his fingers in my face. Only Ian could get away with it. I deserve it. I’m not thinking straight. I’ve got a pair of pale blue eyes and pink glossy lips on my mind.

  Why did I think it was too late for me? One look at her and all my fondest dreams came flooding back to me. I can make this happen. It’s worth all the trouble that sassy little girl is bound to give me.

  Ava might be young, but she’s ripe for the picking. That girl is fertile ground, luscious earth to plant my seed in over and over again. Once she’s mine, I’ll never let her out of my sight. I’ll claim and plunder that sweet pussy until I lay waste to those delicious curves, hear her voice beg for mercy and watch my cum ooze down her supple, quivering thighs. And then I’ll fuck her again.

  Goddamn, it’ll be fucking glorious.

  “Jesus Christ, Declan. Why the hell do you have an erection?” Ian barks and breaks me out of my daze.

  “What? What are you doing here?” I shake my head and quickly sit, shielding my hard-on behind my desk. This is humiliating.

  He glares at me. “Do facts and figures get you hard, McCormick? Where’s your head? Do I need to call Dr. Samson?”

  “Where’s the info on Ava? What do you have?” I rub my forehead and flip through papers, anything to get these filthy thoughts out of my brain long enough for my cock to go down.

  “Ava? Are you still on that? Talk to her father. For fuck’s sake, Declan, use the internet if you want more information. Stalk her social media. I don’t have time for this shit. I have to run background checks on two new executives and get these papers to the Mayor.”

  “She just moved to the city. I want her address and phone number. Can you at least get that for me? That’s not the kind of shit I’ll find on social media.” I wait through the silence and hold his gaze. I sense judgement dripping from every pore.

  He narrows his eyes and leans over my desk. “Ava’s a good girl. My wife and Arthur’s ex-wife are friends. “What are your intentions?”

  “Are you her real father? Do you have something to confess?” I push back.

  “Far be it from me to...” He pauses and searches for the perfect word. “Call you depraved... but she’s half your age and you’re twice her size. I’m not sure you’re anatomically compatible.” He smirks.

  “I’m not worried. She sui
ts me perfectly.” I smile to myself and my brain conjures one lusty thought after another.

  I’ll make everything fit just fine.

  “Hey, pervert. I’m still here.” He snaps.

  “Stop being such a pain in the ass and do this for me. I want her cell number and address. I’m not a fiend.” I hold my ground. “Please, Ian. My intentions are noble. For now, I’d just like to send the lady flowers.”

  “Flowers, my ass.” He grumbles and makes the call.

  8

  Ava

  There’s no reason to make a mountain out of a molehill. At its worst, it was an innocent flirtation. At its best, I misinterpreted his behavior.

  Wait. Do I have that right? Which is the best-case scenario?

  It doesn’t matter. This semester’s make or break for us. Thanks to the advanced placement courses that I insisted we take when Isabella Hamilton wanted to join the cheer squad instead, we’ll be college graduates just after our twentieth birthdays. And thanks to Bella’s awesome summer internship in graphic design and illustration, we’re already working on our first children’s book.

  “I got my couch today!” I hop in place and tap the button to the third floor.

  “You got the navy, didn’t you?” She chuckles to herself.

  “Come, have a look. I dare you.” I prance down the hall and shake my keys in my hand. Thanks to some ideas from Mom and some financing from Dad, my place is a pink dream. I’ve been working secretly and waiting for all of it to come together. This is the unveiling.

  When I reach my door, I find a note.

  Ava, you had a flower delivery. It took up too much room in the lobby, so I asked maintenance to bring it here. They were in and out and locked up. --Vincent.

 

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