by Lauren Runow
“Why would I break my no-man policy for a stranger on a roof?”
“Because he’s gorgeous.”
“He’s okay-looking, sure,” I state. She quirks her mouth, calling my bullshit, so I add, “Fine. He’s hot. Supermodel gorgeous, but”—I dramatically raise a finger—“he’s a total douche bag. I mean, who gets down with his assistant and then blows her off like that?”
With a nod, she replies, “That’s a Sexton for you. All money and power but no class.”
She speaks of them like she has firsthand information. “You’re familiar with the family?”
“Only from Christine. Apparently, the Sextons are San Francisco royalty. They own, like, a bazillion newspapers and websites and apps and stuff like that. The father, Edward, is one of the wealthiest people in the state and was in the paper all the time when his first wife died and again when he remarried. His new wife is, like, some twenty-something beauty queen, Missy Catrera.”
Missy. Oh shit.
“Bryce and Austin wouldn’t happen to be brothers, would they?”
“They are,” she sings. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
I have every reason. Austin is Bryce’s brother—the one who I told Missy I was at the party with. Then, that means I spilled my drink all over Bryce’s stepmom and then thwarted an unwanted advance from his dad. Glad I didn’t know that nugget of information to dwell on all weekend long.
I officially detest every member of the Sexton family. Even Austin, although he hasn’t done anything wrong … yet.
“Anyway, I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know how Christine can be. She’s really a good girl. She just gets caught up in her own drama.”
I wave her off. “No need to worry. I’m used to being ridiculed. Being single and pregnant before you’re legal to drink will do that to you.” I pull a strand of hair from my ponytail and roll it through my fingers. “Has Christine … did she and Bryce make up?”
She twists her mouth and slowly shakes her head. “No. I think that’s part of why she hates you right now. For the past couple of months, she’s idolized that man, and she took a big chance on Thursday night. Seeing him with you was a real blow to her ego, ya know? I don’t think he likes her in that way. At least, that’s how I’m reading the situation. I’m not sure if Christine is even telling the entire truth.”
Being in Bryce’s arms was tender and welcoming. I haven’t been on a date with a man in six years, let alone in the arms of one. For a moment, I let my guard down, and of course, he swooped in with his charm and wit. He even had me smoking a cigarette, which definitely went straight to my head, making my judgment extra clouded.
His body was heated, and I melted right into him as he bore down on me with smoldering black eyes and a mouth that was too succulent to look at. I would have let him kiss me. Hell, I would have let him devour me, and it would have been a mistake.
When I heard Christine’s voice and saw the look on her face, my entire heart shattered. My mind suddenly went clear, and I was able to see what was in front of me. An elusive cad who preyed on women.
But why do I feel like I lost something?
The knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I pop up from the chair and open the door, only to see the most handsome little man in the world.
“Mommy!” Charlie hugs my legs, tucking his head into my side.
I lift him up from the ground and cradle him like a baby even though he’s thirty-five pounds and growing like a weed.
“I missed you so much,” I say as I bury my face in his neck, giving him a million kisses. In return, I get the best present ever—his giggle.
I whirl him in the air and place him on a chair in the kitchen.
“I’ll see you later in the week,” Abby says from behind as she walks out the apartment and waves to Rob and Eleanor Mason, who are standing just inside the doorway.
I kneel in front of Charlie and ask him how his visit was.
“Grandpa took me to a baseball game, and they have a giant slide there. I was able to go on it as much as I wanted. And Grandma Mason let me bake with her. We made magic bars. She said they were my dad’s favorite, so when he comes home, we can make them for him!”
Charlie is beaming as I turn to Eleanor and squint at her. Eleanor starts brushing imaginary dust off her shirt so as not to look me in the eye.
I brush his mop of red hair off his forehead and give my son a kiss on the head. “Charlie, Grandma and Grandpa have a long drive home. Say good-bye and then go put on pajamas.”
Like the good kid he is, he slides off the chair and runs to give the Masons good-bye hugs and kisses before scurrying into his room to change.
Rob has his hands palms up, ready to defend himself. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” It’s a lie. I have an entire monologue in my head that I’d love to unleash.
They know the rules about bringing up Ashton.
Eleanor looks at me like I’m being unreasonable. “Ashton is his father and mentioning him in conversation is hardly inappropriate. Charlie asks to look at pictures of him all the time.”
I rub a hand over my face and try to think of how best to explain this to them. “It’s not that I want to pretend he doesn’t exist, but to get Charlie’s hopes up that his father will not only come home, but also want to spend time with him is cruel.”
“Ashton loves that boy—” Eleanor starts, but I hold a hand up to stop her.
“He’s never met him. Asking how he is when he calls once a month is hardly loving his child.”
“He never had a chance,” she defends her only son. “You sprang this pregnancy on him and then declared you were raising him alone. Ashton didn’t even have a chance to be a father.”
I take a deep breath and calm my nerves. This is why Ashton is halfway around the world, living his life one whim at a time. His mother has always made excuses for him. When he lost his scholarship, it was because his professors had a bias against him since he was from a wealthy family. When he was arrested during a fraternity prank, she blamed the school for not chaperoning her son. When he was a father at twenty, it was because his girlfriend wasn’t on birth control. Nothing is Ashton’s fault. Not even the fact that he’s a deadbeat dad.
“I’m not sure Charlie should stay at your house anymore,” I say and watch their faces fall with shock and sadness. “You can still see him, but I’m thinking the sleepovers are too much.”
“No.” Rob leans forward with raw emotion I’ve never seen on him before. “Tessa, please. This …” He pauses as if trying to compose himself. “These weekends have been the only things we look forward to. Please don’t take him away from us.”
My heart breaks in a million pieces at the sight of this man in his khaki trousers and navy sports jacket, pleading to see his grandson. Rob Mason should be on his sailboat or playing golf with his retired buddies. Instead, he wants to drive three hours every month, so he can spend a few days bonding with his five-year-old grandson.
That was the point of all this, wasn’t it? So Charlie could get to know his grandparents, to know where he came from. Ashton might be shit, but the Masons are good people. Enablers to Ashton’s bad behavior, yes, but they’re also decent people who truly love my little boy.
I let out a long sigh. “We’ll have to see, but please, no more talk of Ashton. You two are enough for him. He looks forward to these weekends as much as you do.”
Eleanor grabs the pearls around her neck as she nods her head in little jerks. Her eyes are misty with sentimentality even though she doesn’t want to admit that I’m right.
Rob grabs on to Eleanor’s shoulders as he says, “We were hoping to take him down to Legoland in a few weeks. He has a break, and it would make us so happy to spend the time with him.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He lowers his brows. “Please think about it before you make any decisions. That’s all we
ask.”
I nod as they say their good-byes and head back down the hall.
With them gone, I bang my head against the door and wonder how I’m going to get through the next thirteen years of this kid’s life without royally messing him up.
I mean, I’m definitely going to mess him up a little. I’m a mom; it’s my job to give him some sort of complex that he’ll blame me for later. I’m just praying the damage is minimal.
Charlie comes out of his room, wearing his Lego Movie pajamas and takes a seat on the couch. I sit next to him and curl my arm around his little body, pulling him into me.
“I love you,” I sigh into his auburn hair.
He looks up at me with his blue eyes and freckled cheeks. “Mommy, can we go to the fisherman’s house?”
The fisherman’s house?
“You mean, the fish store?”
“No. Where they have seals that sit on rocks. I want to go there.”
“Oh”—I raise my head with the realization and then settle it back onto his—“Fisherman’s Wharf. Sure. We can go. I haven’t been there since I was a little kid.”
“Grandma Mason said Daddy loved to watch the sea lions.”
“He did? That’s nice,” I say with a groan.
“Did you know he lives in Austria?”
“Australia,” I correct him, disheartened.
“Mommy”—his voice sounds wary, and I lean back to see his face—“can we go to Australia? To see Daddy?”
My entire world shatters. “No, honey. It’s really far away.”
“Oh.” His cherub-like face falls with a frown.
This is why I don’t want Ashton talk around Charlie. Not yet at least. I know there will be a day when I have to endure him meeting his dad, and he’ll probably think he hung the moon. I vowed I’d never tell him about how much the man didn’t want him. That will always be my story. Until then, I have to protect this little boy.
And that is why a man is not in the cards for me.
5
BRYCE
This has been the weekend from hell.
The morning after the gala, news broke that a man was killed while driving in an underground street race. I knew my risk-taking brother, Austin, was behind the race, and I went into overdrive, making sure his name stayed out of the press and investigation.
Then, the announcement that Missy was a major shareholder in the company made its way to Washington State, and the acquisition of the Seattle Gazette is hanging by a thread. People aren’t willing to sell pieces of their industry to just any company even if we are one of the most successful media outlets in the country. They want stability. Unfortunately, with Miss California Teen having a twenty-five percent share in the company, we are no longer projecting that.
Now, it’s Monday, and my head is reeling from eighty-six hours of keeping the company from falling apart.
Austin is nowhere to be found, Missy has announced she’s going to be making editorial decisions, and my new assistant—Jessica, Jacqueline, Jenelle—whatever her name … I can’t find her.
“Where the hell did she go?” I shout into the air at no one as I pass her empty desk. It’s the same one that, three days ago, was covered in hockey paraphernalia. Today, it’s stark, except for a laptop and a package of Twizzlers.
Slamming the door behind me, I walk over to my desk and open my desktop. It lights up to a search engine I was using before I went to my meeting.
Tessa. San Francisco.
This is stupid.
Without a last name, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. For four days, I’ve been trying aimlessly to find the woman from the museum garden. I obtained the guest list to the gala, and Tessa’s name isn’t on it. Makes sense, considering she was there with Christine, who also wasn’t invited.
Christine’s the only person who can tell me where to find Tessa. She’s also the last person I want to speak to or who wants to speak to me. It’s a shame because she was a damn good assistant. She knew what I needed, when I needed it.
When I arrived at work, the four major newspapers would be on my desk, my televisions would be on the cable networks, and an espresso would be steaming hot, just waiting for me to indulge. She knew how I liked my files organized and always kept my schedule tight, and we had an unspoken knowledge of what calls I was willing to take and when.
If I had a meeting out of the office, a fully charged iPhone portable charger was handed to me before I left, and she kept Tide To Go sticks in her desk for when I ruined a shirt during the day—which I tend to do often. She knew to hand me an ibuprofen after a meeting with my father and a scotch when I had to deal with Missy, and there was always a Red Bull waiting for me after our four o’clock deadline meeting.
Christ, I’m an asshole.
She was a great assistant and a beautiful girl, but her affection for me was not returned. Seven months, she worked for me, and all I can think about is the woman who wowed me in twenty minutes.
Tessa.
I lean my weight into my office chair and let the springs bounce out my agitation.
Tessa.
She was witty and smart, beautiful … intriguing. We played a game of Truth or Dare that I can’t seem to erase from my memory. Every laugh, every insight, every riddle into her life is etched into my brain.
Tessa.
The way she looked in that red dress was downright sinful. If I’d had just ten more seconds with her, I would have had a better taste of those sweet lips. I would have trailed my mouth down the length of her neck and relished in the whimpers as I moved down to her breast. They were so full and round; I wanted to touch them more than I wanted to breathe.
Tessa.
We would have gone back to my place where I’d have had that dress on the floor and her in my bed. I wouldn’t have rushed. No. I’d have taken my time, savoring every inch of skin, and shown her what a gentleman I could be when I buried my head into her delicious—
“We need to talk.”
My dirty thoughts of Tessa are tarnished as Missy comes barging into my office.
“I’m busy.”
She continues to saunter in, her blonde hair pulled back in a sleek bun, showing off her diamond earrings that cost as much as the fancy car she has waiting for her out front. She takes a seat in one of the guest chairs on the opposite side of my desk.
“Don’t sit.”
“Don’t be rude to your mother.” She places her elbows on the armrests and crosses her legs.
“You’re younger than me.”
With her toe, she reaches out and grazes my calf under the desk. “Think of the stamina.”
One thing about Missy is, she likes to use her sex appeal to fuck with people. She’s not interested in me any more than she’s interested in my father—her husband—but that won’t stop her from using her body to achieve her goals. In this case, she’s looking to get a rise out of me.
“What do you want, Missy?” I bite.
“I just heard from a little birdie that you’re planning on buying the Seattle Gazette.”
“And they just heard you own a quarter of the company. Trust me when I tell you, they’re more upset by the news than you are.”
She points a finger. “Let me explain to you what the plan is—”
“As this is your second day on the job, let me inform you on what we do here,” I state condescendingly. “We run a print and digital media company. Buying newspapers around the country is how we increase our footprint. It’s what paid for that fat diamond on your finger and the Ds on your chest.”
Her mouth pinches. “You think you’re funny.”
“You’re right,” I concede. “It also paid for your nose, lips, and liposuction.”
With a deep breath, she shakes her head and ignores my comment. “I want to know why you’re spending money when your father and I are preparing to liquidate.”
“You will do no such thing.” My teeth grind.
“Funny. I thought I had more shares than you
.”
“Yet still not enough.”
Her beady eyes train steadily on me, and then she glances at her nails as if bored with our conversation. “You and your brothers seem to forget how careless you are.”
My temples are starting to throb. While I love my late mother with every fiber of my being, I’ll never forgive her for the careless mistake she made in her will.
If any of the Sexton boys are convicted of a crime, they forfeit their shares to their father.
It might not seem like a big deal, but when you have a brother with a passion for underground street racing, it makes your blood pressure rise with the idea that one arrest could cost you everything. Especially since Missy’s first order of business was for a cross-platform exposé on underground street racing. She’s only doing it because she knows Austin’s secrets, and she is dying to have him convicted of a crime. Any crime.
Now, on top of everything else on my plate, I am writing a fucking exposé with my assistant in order to keep Missy and her cronies away from the racing circuit and away from Austin.
“Where the fuck is my assistant?” I growl under my breath.
“Getting nervous?” She quirks a sinister brow.
“No.” I ignore her stare and go back to typing on my computer.
“I don’t like the new assistant. She’s too spirited.” She scoots her fingers like she’s brushing away imaginary dirt. “What happened to Christine?”
“She has a new job.”
“No two-week notice?”
“No.”
“Why do I feel like there’s more to the story?”
“You’d love that.”
“Watch it, Bryce, or I’ll have a full exposé on men who take advantage of women in the workplace.” She smirks.
I hit her with a glare. “You wouldn’t.”
“I should give her a call. Chat and see if she needs a recommendation for her new job. Something interesting must have happened because I recall seeing her at the gala.” She rises and straightens the skirt. “Can’t say I enjoyed myself though. Some wench spilled her drink all over my gown.”
