by Ava Harrison
“That’s an entirely different matter. One I don’t give a damn about and you know it.” He steps away from me, pulling his pants back into place. His smug indifference to my freak-out only pushes me farther over the edge.
“Say something,” I demand.
“First off, it’s not actual cheating when the marriage is mine,” he mumbles.
“What the hell does that mean?” I balk.
“It means for all intents and purposes, we aren’t married.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
He grabs a tissue and hands it to me, then makes work at removing any evidence of our tryst. I stand there glaring in his direction. He walks to his chair and sits as if we’re about to have a goddamn business meeting.
“Sit,” he says.
“I prefer to stand,” I reply in defiance, suddenly feeling like an insolent child. The truth is, every time Chelsea’s name comes into play I get hostile. It’s not lost on me that I’m being irrational, but I can’t help it. She holds all the cards for my life and I hate her for it.
“I said sit,” he demands, but when I don’t move, his mouth opens. “Please.” His tone softens and a chink in my armor gives way.
I nod and take the seat across from him—the seat I’ve taken so many times in the few weeks I’ve worked for him. Now, after everything that happened on this desk, it’s hard to concentrate.
“I’m going to tell you a story, and after I do, you can decide how you want to proceed. Okay? Can you do that?”
“Yes. Talk.”
He sighs at my indignation. “Seven years ago, I was fresh out of business school and had just started working for my father. He owned and operated Lancaster Holding Company. He was grooming me to take over.” His eyes look lost in a past he obviously wants to forget. “When I started working, I met a beautiful young woman there named Chelsea Roberts. She came from a poor family, was hard working, and in the short time I was in college, she’d gone from a receptionist to office manager. She was smart, beautiful, and most of all exotic. She was everything I wanted. I needed her from the moment I met her.”
Jealousy coils in my blood as he speaks of his wife. I want to dash out of his office and cry. His words make me hate him more. They make me hate myself more. Chelsea sounds like a normal girl who fought her way to success. She’s someone I can admire, as I’m striving to advance the same way she did.
“I thought I loved her,” he whispers out, but there’s no mistaking the venom in his voice. “And I thought she loved me. We were going to take over the world.” He rakes his hand through his tousled hair. “One day I told my father I intended to marry her. He knew there was something between us, but he never imagined I’d want to marry the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. She wasn’t good enough for me in his eyes. He demanded I have her sign a pre-nup.
“When I spoke to Chelsea about it, she started to cry, asking how I couldn’t trust her. She broke everything off with me and tried to leave. I was so in love with her, I begged her to stay. I was so young and dumb, Bridget. She had me duped into believing we were truly in love and my father was the enemy.
“I marched into his office and told him I wasn’t leaving Chelsea. He tried to reason with me, but in the end, he gave me an ultimatum.” Grant grimaces as he remembers the past. “Her or the company. It was black and white. My father had wronged me. He chose business over family, so I did what I thought I should. I chose her.”
I sit here nodding, not knowing what else to do. It sounds like something straight out of a Shakespearean play. Romeo and Juliet without the double suicide.
“I lost everything that day, but I didn’t know it then. It took me six months to realize how big a mistake I made. Six months for the paperwork to go through telling me I was officially written out of everything Lancaster.”
“I’m so sorry, Grant. That seems harsh. How in the world were you able to do all of this?” I gesture around to The L in wonder.
“My trust kicked in at twenty-five, so I had money. From that, I had enough money to invest wisely and afford The L.”
“Your father took those things away from you, not Chelsea,” I point out. It seems he’s unfairly blaming her for everything . . . unless there’s more to the story. “What does any of this have to do with your current marital situation?”
“We ran off and got married right after my fight with my father. When the paperwork came finalizing my expulsion from Lancaster Holding, Chelsea showed her true colors. She wasn’t content with only being my wife. She married me to take over the world, and without my family that wasn’t a reality. That’s when I realized she never really loved me. She loved the money and power my family held.”
“What happened with Chelsea, Grant?”
“She wanted a divorce. As far as she was concerned, I was worthless to her. She’d just reached out to an attorney when we found out she was pregnant with Isabella. After that day, everything changed. The one thing we both agreed on was that we wanted more for our daughter, so we sat down and made a plan. That’s when the idea of The L was born. Fueled with rage in my life for my father and for Chelsea, I set out to take over the world and ruin him.”
“But—” I’m confused. I didn’t even know where to start.
“My marriage to Chelsea is merely for show. We haven’t been together in years. We formed a partnership to take down my father and build our own fortune for our daughter’s sake. A few months after Isabella was born, Chelsea stepped out on me. That picture you found, that was taken right before I found out my whole marriage was a lie. There have been numerous affairs over the years and I’ve known about most of them.”
“You’re okay with your wife sleeping around?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t see her as my wife, Bridget. She’s merely my daughter’s mother and a business associate.”
“Why would you ever go into business with her? You could’ve built this on your own.”
He nods and then begins shaking his head back and forth in frustration. “We don’t have a pre-nup, Bridget. Anything I build is hers too. She made sure of that.”
Oh God. With all the money the Lancasters have, a pre-nup should have been standard practice. What the hell was he thinking?
“If all I have is hers, at the very least, she would work for her half. That’s the stance I took. There wouldn’t be any handouts, especially after she showed her true colors. My father saw through her from the beginning. He knew what she was after, and when he tried to tell me, I wouldn’t listen. He was smart to cut me off.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
He huffs. “No. That relationship was ruined years ago.”
I see the turmoil and hurt in his eyes. The loss of his family weighs on him and it’s heartbreaking, but why doesn’t he try? Isn’t his family worth trying to salvage? I want to ask him all of these things, but getting him to open up has been a feat and I’m not ready for him to stop sharing, so I turn the subject back to Chelsea.
“So, you’ve both carried on affairs for years?”
He laughs, but it’s not humorous at all. “There hasn’t been anyone else for me until you.”
My mouth hangs agape. “You haven’t slept with anyone in—”
“About four years.” The words hang in the air, hovering above us. Four years. Not since the birth of their daughter, Isabella.
I’m speechless. How is that even possible? He’s Grant Lancaster. Women fall at his feet. Why wouldn’t he sleep with his wife? Fighting aside, he must have still wanted her, at least sexually. What happened there? I shake the thought away. Thinking about him and his wife, even if I know they aren’t together like that, makes me sick.
“I hated women for a very long time. I was so burned I didn’t want to be with anyone. I surrounded myself with work and raising the funds, securing the location and most importantly being a dad. My whole life has been Isabella and The L. Until you.”
“Until me?”
“There was some
thing about you that drew me in. I don’t know, but when you’re around, you make me forget. You make me want to move past this feud. You make me hope for a better life, even if it’s only for a brief moment. You make me believe that maybe one day I can have more.”
“So, why is Chelsea still around, Grant? If you want more, why don’t you take it?”
He hangs his head. “Chelsea will never let me go.”
“I don’t understand. She sleeps around on you. You said she wanted to leave.”
“She wants the illusion. She wants to pretend we’re the perfect power family. She wants the money. The reputation. Trust me. If I could, I’d leave her. But I’m leveraged to the max.”
“It’s just money, Grant.”
“No, Bridget. It’s not just money. It’s The L. My own achievement. I can’t lose it, and even if I were willing, there’s so much more. Things that mean so much more.”
“What is it?”
“Isabella. I won’t allow Chelsea to take her from me.”
“Come on, Grant. This day and age, fathers get custody all the time. She can’t keep your daughter away from you.”
“But she can.” His head falls back as he runs his hands down his face. “She has me by the balls. Not only do I have no pre-nup, but she . . .” He pulls at his roots. “You have to believe me when I say I can’t. She really does have me by the balls.”
There’s something he isn’t telling me, but I don’t press. Today has been chock-full of information overload, and I don’t know how much more I can take. Besides, looking at him, I get the sense he’s done sharing. There’s more to uncover about the Lancasters, but for today I’ll throw him a bone.
“I understand.”
“You do?” He seems surprised and a bit confused.
“Of course.” I know he feels he has no other choice but to stay. I know it all the way through me to the marrow of my bones. Why? That’s the million-dollar question.
“So, now what?”
“I truly don’t know, Bridget. I should let you go. I know I should. It’s not right to do this to you. It’s not right to put a giant bull’s-eye on your back, to bring you into my shit. But Lord help me, I can’t stop. I want you, Bridget.” He stands and steps around to lean over me. “Don’t say no.”
My mind screams he’ll break me, but I don’t care. I can’t say no to Grant Lancaster.
The next day we’re at an impasse. Neither of us is acting normal. It’s as if we don’t know what we’re supposed to do in this situation. Are we doing this? Are we not? I’m so confused. I’m in a fog the whole morning.
By two that afternoon, I still haven’t spoken to him. I’m about to go in search of him when we’re all called into a meeting to go over the timeline of the launch.
The table in the conference room is empty. I take a seat and one by one employees file in. Most of the seats are taken by the time Grant comes in. There’s one vacant seat across from me and another next to me. Before I can consider the ramification of him next to me and what it will do to my nerves, he sits there. I swear I feel the heat of his body, his chair is so close. He begins to speak, but I don’t hear the words over my beating heart. Someone from accounting answers him regarding the release day budget.
After her, Alyssa from marketing starts talking. I’ve been working closely with her for weeks on some ideas I’ve had. Secretly, I’d hoped to be transferred to that department, but with everything going on with Grant, I can’t decide what I want. Alyssa introduces the idea of using social media influencers that I pitched to Grant. As she starts rattling off my work, Grant places his hand next to my leg. His fingers graze the skin beneath my skirt. My breath hitches.
What is he doing?
She continues to prattle off details as his hand travels farther up, pushing under my skirt until he’s right at my lace thong. Oh my God. He wouldn’t. Would he? I keep my head facing forward, desperate to not give anything away to the people around us. He keeps rattling off questions as if his hand is not on me, as if his finger hasn’t just dipped inside the scrap of material separating him from me.
He can’t possibly . . .
He does. His finger swipes at my core, almost dipping inside me. Teasing me, barely breaching. My body secretly protests, begging him to enter. He doesn’t. He just sits there on the precipice. Circling his finger. My body is on fire and my core tightens in need, but that all changes in an instant. In walks Chelsea and the fire that raced in my veins a moment ago is extinguished by what feels like ice-cold water. She takes the one empty seat at the table directly across from me. I don’t want to meet her eyes, but something sick and twisted inside me has me looking up and finding her glare.
She’s more beautiful than I imagined. Everything about her screams sex and power. The worst part is, she knows it. She demands attention. Not even in the room for one minute and all eyes are on her.
I’m so distracted by her, I haven’t noticed that Grant has slipped his finger inside me. My body quivers in response. Chelsea’s eyes widen as though she knows exactly what’s transpiring. I want to push him off, tell him he’s being obvious, but I’m so lost in his ministrations I don’t. I clamp my legs tightly around his hand in protest. Perhaps Mrs. Lancaster deserves a taste of her own medicine. Who am I to protest?
My heart pounds in my chest. I’m going to come. I’m going to come, staring at Grant’s wife. I should be appalled. I should be ashamed, but I’m emboldened. He continues to pump his finger in and out, causing me to straighten in my chair. Chelsea’s wide eyes have all others looking toward Grant. Just like that, he stops . . . and I’m left hanging, desperate and frustrated. I want to object. I want to beg for him to finish. But I don’t. I can’t. We were almost caught by a room full of peers and the thought has me mortified.
By the time the meeting is over, I’m a ticking time bomb. I don’t even know what to do with myself. I’m anxious, aggravated, and feeling foolish. I’m not even halfway down the hall when I see Grant and he’s not alone.
He’s talking to Chelsea and he’s not happy. She looks like the cat that ate the canary as she smirks, turns, and saunters in the opposite direction. Her hips sway and her heels click. I watch her like a spectator who can’t get enough.
“Bridget.” Grant’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “My office, now,” he barks.
I head in his direction and move to sit, but I never make it. I hear the door close behind me, pause, and his body is behind mine in two steps, his hard length pressing against my skirt.
“Is everything okay?” I breathe out.
“It’s better now that I have you alone.”
I turn to face him. “Grant, stop.” I push him away. “What was going on with you and Chelsea?”
“I don’t want to talk about her. Not now. Not ever. She’s not our concern.” He whips me around so my back is against him once more. “You were so close to me that whole damn meeting, soft and wet against my hand. I could almost imagine how you taste. The thought lingered through my mind the entire time. I didn’t hear a word anyone said.”
“You could’ve fooled me with all of your tyrannical questions,” I tease, liking this. The way we are right now. No estranged wives or room full of onlookers. Just us.
“Tyrannical, huh?” He chuckles and pulls me closer, his mouth coming down to trail kisses on my neck. “I had to pretend I was listening.”
It’s my turn to laugh.
“I need to satisfy my curiosity.”
“Curiosity about . . . ?”
“If you still taste like dessert, Bridget.”
Tingles course their way down my spine. My already soaked panties dampen even more.
“I know it will haunt me all night if I don’t have you.” His hand reaches between my legs and he dips his finger in and out. He pulls them away from me and the sound of him sucking his finger makes me convulse with need.
“I want more, and then I need to be inside you.”
I don’t object. Just turn around and
stare at him.
“If you want it, take it.”
He steps forward, caging me in against his desk. He lifts me up so I’m perched before him, a willing prey to a predator.
“Spread your legs,” he commands. “Let me see all of you.”
I do as instructed, practically salivating with need.
“Lean back on your elbows.”
I groan, lifting my hips. Trying to meet his finger.
“What’s wrong, Bridget? Do you need more? Are you desperate for it?”
My whimpers ring out. I don’t care if anyone hears. This is almost too much. I want him too much.
“I’ll take care of everything. I’ll give you what you want. What you need.”
He does. He gives me everything I need as his tongue swipes from one end of my core to the other. As he circles my most sensitive spot, my vision gets hazy. He’s literally undoing me. His tongue thrusts at my opening, begging for entrance, but it’s not his tongue I want. I need him inside me.
“Please, Grant. More. I need more.”
My words stop him cold. All the buildup of moments ago is snuffed out in an instant. I don’t know what I said, but he’s gone still and isn’t saying anything. I’m confused, per usual, and feeling foolish when he finally speaks.
“You know I want to give you more, right?” He stands and looks at me. “I’m only capable of this for now. I want to be honest with you, always.”
“I know. I don’t understand everything going on between you and Chelsea, but I know what we have is something more than a fuck on a desk.”
“So much more, Bridget. There are things you don’t know—”
I cut him off. “I don’t care about that right now. I know what I’m getting myself into. All I want is this. You’re all I want. As long as you feel the same way, we’ll navigate this together. I need this. I need you, Grant.”
“You mean everything to me. I’ll fight for us if you will.”
“Yes.”
He pulls me into his arms and seals his lips against mine.
I expect him to take me like he did before. To fuck me on his desk, but he moves away and looks at me with hungry eyes.
