Bitter Heat

by Mia Knight

  “Do you have OCD?” she asked.

  He scowled. “Why do you ask?”

  She raised her brows. “No reason.”

  He grunted and began to clean himself. “If you’re going to do a task, you should do it right.”

  She stood there for a moment, watching water slide over him. His body was far from perfect. There was a large scar on his thigh and others scattered over his arms and back. His body was powerful, but it was nothing compared to his mind, which didn’t work like everyone else’s. He saw opportunity where no one else did and was able to make the impossible happen through sheer force of will.

  She watched him soap his penis efficiently before moving on. He acted like his erection was a common occurrence, and it was clear he wasn’t going to jerk off to relieve it. Was it because she was here? She pictured herself kneeling in front of him sucking him off. Warmth spread in her belly, but she turned away. This was a business arrangement, not a romantic affair.

  She toweled off before she dressed in comfy, sexless pajamas and went back into the bathroom to begin her nighttime routine.

  “What do you want to eat?” he asked.

  “I’m not hungry.” She looked away from her lifeless reflection with puffy, bloodshot eyes.

  “You should eat something.”

  She shook her head. “I just want to sleep.”

  “All you ate was a salad and French fries hours ago.”

  She examined him in the mirror as he wrapped a towel around his waist. “Don’t you have better things to do than watch me eat a salad?”

  “It was a long flight.”

  After she brushed her teeth, she slipped into bed. She hugged a pillow to her chest and stared out the window at the starry sky. The only source of light was the silver glow from the city and moon.

  When the mattress dipped, she stiffened. A massive arm dragged her back against him. Her curves fit into the hard planes of his body. Minutes passed, but neither of them spoke. She found herself subconsciously trying to copy his steady breathing. The moon highlighted clouds as they drifted lazily past.

  “I’m fine,” she said quietly.

  He said nothing.

  As her mind inevitably circled back to her father, she tried to hide her sniffle. The arm around her waist tightened.

  “It’ll pass,” she whispered.

  She buried her face in the pillow, closed her eyes, and gave into her heartache.

  She clasped her father’s hand in both of hers. She silently begged him to wake up as the doctor coached her on what was about to happen. Her father looked like he was sleeping. He was still warm, he was still here, but they told her it was suspended animation and not really him. Dad didn’t want this half-life, but selfishly, she had held onto him for several days as she grappled with this decision. This felt so wrong.

  Her heart raced as the doctor approached the ventilator. She had to stop herself from attacking him. She was lightheaded with panic as the doctor flipped the switch on the machine. Her mind floated out of her body as she tried to distance herself from what was happening. She stared at her father as his breathing paused. She stopped too, but then his chest began to move again, and she almost lost it.

  The nurses said something to her, but she didn’t look at them. She couldn’t. Her eyes were locked on her father. When they left her alone, she sank onto the chair beside the bed.

  “I’m here, Dad. Can you hear me?” She pressed her cheek against his warm skin. “Can you feel me?”

  He collected tears in the palm of his hand as she began to tell him a story. It was a game they had developed. She would begin a story, and he would try to guess the sequence of events. She had to throw in as many misdirects as possible so he couldn’t guess the ending. This time, there were no interruptions, predictions, or critiques at the end, only the sound of his rapid breathing. She finished the story and launched into another, convinced that he could hear her and just maybe, he would shock them all and make a miraculous comeback.

  She was in the middle of the third story when she noticed that his skin had changed color, and his lips had a bluish tinge. Her voice faltered. She desperately tried to control her wavering voice so he could hear the end, but she never made it.

  “He’s gone.”

  She didn’t react other than to rub his cold hand between both of hers.

  “Ms. Hennessy, he’s gone.”

  She stopped her ministrations and nodded, acknowledging the doctor. He backed off. She should say something meaningful and poignant, but nothing came to mind. More time passed. She didn’t move.

  “We have to take him, ma’am,” someone said.

  She nodded but didn’t release him.

  “You need to let him go,” the nurse said gently.

  “I don’t know how,” she whispered.

  The nurse put her hand over theirs. “Honey, is there anyone I can call?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  She counted to ten, taking deep, shaky breaths as she did so. On the tenth, she released his hand and placed it on the bed. She got to her feet and kissed his forehead before she stepped back with tears slipping down her face.

  The nurse patted her back. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  She reached for her father to touch him one last time. Her fingers landed on warm, muscled flesh. She opened her eyes and stared up at Roth.

  He stroked her wet cheek. “Wake up, princess.”

  She stared at him as her heart broke all over again. “He never heard the end of the story,” she said raggedly.

  “It’s okay, Jasmine.”

  She shook her head as she gulped down tears.

  “I miss him so much. I don’t have anyone,” she whispered forlornly.

  “You have me,” he murmured as he brushed kisses over her face.

  “I never had you.”

  His kissed the corner of her mouth. She gripped his hair and held him still as she kissed him, pouring her sorrow into him. He let her set the pace as she gorged on him. When she pushed against his shoulders, he tipped on his side. She shoved him onto his back. There was no need to undress him since he was naked. She closed her mouth around his penis. He hissed, and his limbs jerked.

  “Jasmine.”

  She ignored him as she worked him the way she should have done in the shower. He would have fucked her into a dreamless sleep, and she wouldn’t have relived that memory. She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to dwell on the pain. When he was ready for her, she yanked off her pants and crawled up his body until she was straddling his face. She didn’t need to tell him what to do. He ate her as she yanked off her top, popping off buttons in her haste to get it off her. She grabbed the headboard as she rode him. When she needed cock, she slid down his body and slipped him inside her.

  He bared his teeth as she moved, eyes glittering as he let her use him. The sound of her low moans filled the room as she reached for ecstasy. A hand wrapped in her hair and yanked her down. His mouth closed over hers. The kiss was carnal and disrupted her rhythm. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t allow it. A heavy hand flattened her over him as he began to thrust. She thought she was in control because she was on top, but it was just an illusion he allowed her to believe. He surged beneath her, slamming into her with eye-rolling force. His arms banded around her waist, keeping her in place.

  “Roth,” she panted.

  “You with me?” he asked roughly.

  “I’m always with you, even when I don’t want to be,” she said as she stared at his face, half of which was cast in darkness.

  “This is where you belong.”

  He whispered filthy things in her ear. It didn’t take long for either of them. He roared loud enough to make her ears ring when he climaxed. When she collapsed on top of him, he patted her ass.

  “You have me,” he declared.

  When she didn’t answer, he clutched her ass hard enough to make her moan.

  “You hear me?”

  He sounded like a pissed-off drill
sergeant instead of a man comforting his distraught lover.

  “Yes,” she murmured as she listened to his rapid heartbeat.

  “Say it,” he ordered.

  “I have you.”

  He swept his hand up her spine and clasped the back of her neck. “You always did.”

  Chapter 19

  She woke with a weight on her chest. Literally. Roth slept facedown with her partially buried beneath him. The remnants of yesterday’s grief hung over her head along with a feeling of impending doom. She felt like Meredith Grey in that Grey’s Anatomy episode where she doesn’t want to go to work. “I need a reason to go on, I need some hope. And in the absence of hope, I need to stay in bed and feel like I might die today.” That was how she felt. Of course, unlike Meredith, when she went into work (the kitchen), she wouldn’t be in danger of being blown up.

  But she couldn’t stay in bed and block out the world. She had shit to write. She examined what she could see of Roth’s face. Even in slumber, he looked angry. She tried to think back to when they were married. He had never been one to snuggle. If she remembered correctly, he made it clear that he liked his space and had always been quick to disengage after sex. So what was with this spooning shit?

  He didn’t stir when she slipped out from under him. She showered and patted on cream for her swollen eyes before she dressed. She brewed fresh coffee and leaned against the counter as she watched the dark drops trickle into the pot. Despite the bucket of tears she shed yesterday, she still didn’t feel right. The midnight fuck and Roth’s attempts to comfort her weren’t a magic elixir that banished the melancholy. The pain was going to linger, and she was going to have to deal with that.

  She sat in front of her laptop and pulled up her mangled manuscript. She didn’t want to poke the beast again, so she jumped to another scene and left the one with her father unfinished. Someday when she was stronger, she would breathe life into it, but that day wasn’t today. It wouldn’t take much to topple her into another round of inconsolable sobbing.

  As she did most days, she prayed for guidance because she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. She nudged words around on the screen and waited for the caffeine to do its thing, hoping the muse would show up since she was being a good disciple.

  She was so deep in her words that she didn’t hear Roth enter the kitchen. When he tossed a stack of papers onto the counter beside her, she almost fell off her stool. She eyed the prenup, shot him a lethal glare, and returned her attention to her computer even though she was now thoroughly distracted. He wore sweats and nothing else. The morning light turned his dark complexion into a warm hue that made him look like the god he thought he was. Ass.

  “How much?” he asked.

  Couldn’t he wait until she had finished her first cup of coffee before he started talking about money? She erased one word and replaced it with another.

  “Two hundred million?”

  When she reached for her mug, he grabbed it. She looked up in time to see him take a sip and then grimace. He wasn’t one for sweet beverages. No, he liked things bitter, just like him.

  “Serves you right,” she muttered.

  “Tell me how much you want.”

  She let out an irritated huff and grabbed her teal-colored pen and signed where all the tabs were. She didn’t allow herself to overanalyze. This was only skin deep. A year and then she would move on. When she finished signing, she looked back at her manuscript.

  “Why hold out if you didn’t want more money?”

  She kept her attention welded to her computer screen. He pressed against her side and tugged on her hair. When she still didn’t look at him, he grabbed her face and turned it toward him. Before she could snap, he covered her mouth with his. She wasn’t prepared for his gentle kiss. When he pulled away, she gripped the bottom of the stool for support.

  “I told you I don’t like being ignored,” he said.

  “I don’t like being interrupted,” she countered.

  “Tell me why you didn’t sign.”

  She crossed her arms. “The next time you feel like putting me in my place, do it in private instead of sending your attorney to do the dirty work.”

  The hand on her face tensed before he released her. When she would have gone back to her laptop, he closed it and forced the stool around so she was facing him.

  “Explain,” he ordered.

  “You don’t need to keep throwing your weight around, telling me I have no choices. I know I have no power, but you—”

  “What did Mason say?” he asked.

  “He assumed I was looking for a larger settlement and pointed out I have no one to turn to now that my dad is gone and my sisters aren’t doing well. He also made it clear that your offer was generous, considering my track record.” She jabbed his bare chest with her finger. “Screw you, Roth. You act like I took off because I found someone else and—”

  “He’s fired.”

  She pulled back. “What?”

  “I told him to make sure you signed. That’s it.”

  She searched his eyes. “But he brought up Hennessy & Co.”

  “That’s public knowledge. I didn’t discuss that with him. I told Mason I wanted the prenup signed as soon as possible. It’s his job to know which tactics to use with his opponent. He miscalculated you. He should have known better. You’re a Hennessy.”

  “So?”

  “You were raised by Maximus. Coercion and threats won’t work with you.”

  “Then why the hell am I in this position?” she demanded.

  “Because I play dirty. You didn’t stand a chance against me.”

  She shoved at his chest. “You’re annoying.”

  “I’ll fire him today,” he said quietly.

  She shrugged. “What’s done is done.”

  “It’s not done. He riled you up and made me think you were going to back out. I don’t need that shit. I need you sweet, not hostile.”

  She made a face. “Sweet?”

  “Sweet like last night. That’s how I want you all the time.”

  Her pussy pulsed. “Not gonna happen.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  He kissed her slow and deep, savoring her. Everything else faded away as he dragged her under a tide of sensation.

  “Sweet,” he confirmed against her lips.

  “I’m not sweet.”

  “You can’t help it,” he said as he raised his head and looked down at her. “I have some calls to make.”

  “What?”

  “You gotta let me go.”

  She’d been so sunk in him that she wrapped her arms and legs around him. Horrified, she jerked back while he gave her a satisfied smirk.

  She bared her teeth at him. “Don’t read anything into this. I hate you.”

  He chucked her under the chin. “You can’t resist me.”

  She tried to bite him, but he retracted his hand. Her teeth clicked in midair as he grabbed the prenup and started out of the kitchen.

  “I have somewhere to be,” she said. She needed to get the hell away from him.

  He stopped in the doorway. “We have an excursion today.”

  “I have plans,” she lied and then snapped, “Why the hell won’t you give me the elevator code, jackass?”

  “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

  “Why tomorrow?”

  “You’ll be legally bound to me then.”

  She felt the blood drain out of her face. “Excuse me?”

  “We’re getting married this afternoon at Tuxedo Park,” he said in a calm tone that made her want to hurl something at his head.

  “What? Why? I thought Sarai said there was no set date.”

  “I was giving you time.”

  She tripped off her stool. “Time? Time for what?”

  “To get used to the idea.”

  “But you lied to me.”

  He raised one brow. “Can you blame me?”

  “Yes, I can! I can’t do it today! Nothing’s
ready! Rami and Lyle aren’t in town. I can’t get married without them there. You wanted us to look like a big, happy family. Well, if they’re not there, people will wonder—”

  “Rami flew in this morning, and Lyle caught a ride back with me last night.”

  Her mouth dropped. Lyle and Roth? Hell had just frozen over. That feeling of impending doom was getting stronger. “You’re buddies now?”

  “We’re civil.”

  This couldn’t be happening. “What about the photographer? What about Kaia? I want her there.”

  “Everybody knew the real date except you, including Daiyu. I contacted her to make sure she finished the dress on time. The only thing that wasn’t settled was this prenup.”

  Her eyes went to the papers under his arm. “And if I hadn’t signed?”

  “You’ll never know.”

  Fuck! “I-I think we should do this on another day.”

  “No.”

  He had deliberately kept the wedding date from her, knowing she would freak out. It was one thing to agree, another thing to sign the prenup, and quite another to go through with the sham of a wedding. “I need more time.”

  “You don’t.”

  “What about my hair? Look at my face! My eyes are swollen!”

  “Colette’s bringing someone to get your hair and makeup done.”

  He’d taken care of everything with her family’s help and blocked every excuse she could think of.

  “We’ll leave in an hour. Pack a bag. We’ll spend the weekend there,” he said as he left her standing there in complete shock.

  She should have stayed in bed today. She should have claimed she was deathly ill, but nooooo, she got dressed and started working, showing him that she was a fully functioning human being, which she wasn’t. Her mind skittered in a million different directions, but it was no use. She had signed the prenup. All that was left was the ceremony, but it was what she had been dreading the most. If a judge married them, it would be all business, but dressing up as a bride and having her family involved made it personal. Seven years ago, she would have done anything to have her family and Roth together in the same room, but now the thought of everyone coming together to witness their sham of a wedding made her sick.