by Sienna Grant
Seeing the entrance of Central Park, I run through it and take my usual morning route, a place where there aren’t so many people around. I’m just working up a sweat where I hear a message come through my earbuds. I unzip my pocket as I run, and take out my cell, unlocking the screen. I smile when I see the message is from Reagan: Good morning. Can you pick up breakfast when you finish your run? Please and thank you.
I quickly send her a message back agreeing to her request. As I’m putting my cell back in my pocket, I get a strange feeling. The kind of feeling you get when you think someone is watching you. A shiver runs from the top of my spine all the way down and the hairs on my neck stand on end. I look around but there’s no one. Swallowing past the dryness in my throat, I twist the cap off my bottle of water and drink half of it while looking around me again. Still, there’s no one, so once the cap is back on, I go back to my run. I could have sworn there was someone behind me.
Finishing up my run, I leave the park and head for the deli to pick up some breakfast.
Reagan is sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, already dressed for work in a dress and sipping on a cup of coffee, when I walk in. “Good morning.” She smiles and pushes a cup to me. “Here you go.”
“You made me coffee?”
“I sure did. It’s the least I can do when you are grabbing breakfast.”
I place the danishes on the counter and pull her to her feet, wrapping my arms around her.
“I might get used to this.”
“Well, you might get coffee more often if you didn’t get up at the asscrack of dawn for a stupid run.”
The corner of my mouth pulls into a smirk, and I grab the back of my tee and pull it over my head. Her hungry gaze falls to my chest.
“Well, maybe not that stupid…” Her eyebrows raise and I step closer. Her hands settle on my stomach. Tugging her closer, I grip her shoulders and place my lips on hers. My tongue plunges deep into her mouth, her hands gripping my sides as she groans before pulling away. “You’re all sweaty.”
“You don’t usually mind a bit of sweat….” I wink.
“Yeah, that’s usually because we’re both sweaty. Anyway, I have a delicious smelling danish sitting here.” On cue her stomach growls, and I laugh.
“Have your breakfast.” With a kiss to the top of her head, I pick up my coffee and turn away. “I never thought I’d come second to food…” I mumble as I’m walking to the bedroom.
“Always,” Reagan shouts back.
I enter my en-suite, laughing at her sassy attitude. I’m starting to think it’s the one thing I like most about her. Stripping out of my clothes, I step into the shower to freshen up.
Once I’m dried off, I dress into a navy Gucci suit, sky blue shirt open at the collar. I walk into the kitchen and Reagan slips off her stool and walks over to me. She slips her hands inside my jacket, runs them along my sides, then pulls me closer to her until our bodies are flush.
“You smell amazing.”
I run the backs of my fingers down her cheek. “And you look edible. Maybe I should have you for breakfast.”
Reagan licks her lips and smiles. “We both know neither of us would make it to work today if that happened. I have enough problems already without adding more excuses for Terry to fire me.”
“You’re right,” I say on a sigh. “Come on, we’d better get going.”
Reagan grabs her purse and we walk to the door, my hand sneaking behind her to smack her on the ass.
I laugh when Reagan shrieks and rubs her ass cheek.
I lock up and we head for the elevators.
After a busy morning of meetings, I’m starting to think I should have forgone that run and stayed in bed with Reagan. My hands scrub over my face and I rub my eyes, when there’s a knock on my door. I see Joy standing on the other side and I call her in.
“Joy, you okay?”
“I have Ms. Campbell, Ms. Quinn’s assistant from Hicks Life Solutions, on the phone for you.”
What would Margie want?
“Has she said what it’s concerning?”
“No, she won’t tell me. Said it’s a private matter.” Joy rolls her eyes, making me smile. “This is the third time she’s called. The other times you were in meetings.”
“Tell her I’m with an important client. I’ll call Reagan and see if I can figure out what’s going on.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Brooks.”
Joy leaves, closing the door behind her, and I pluck my cell from my pocket. Clicking on her name, I wait for the call to connect. It rings, but she doesn’t answer. I guess I’ll just have to wait for her to call me back. I answer some emails and send the others to Joy to take care of, but by the time I’m done with that, Reagan still hasn’t called me back. It’s almost noon by the time I look at the clock, so I send Joy to go grab some lunch for me.
I grab my cell, and after clicking on Reagan’s name again, I stand up and walk to the windows that looks out over the city. There’s nothing quite like being the king of your own castle, and standing here, that’s exactly what I feel like. The call connects, but just as it starts ringing, there’s a knock at my door. The door opens, and my eyebrows almost hit my hairline when I see who it is.
“Margie?”
Fifty-Two
Reagan
I’ve spent most of the morning thinking about Everett and how he acted last night. He was so different. Never in this world did I think he’d want to share a bubble bath, let alone draw me one without me having to ask. It was nice though. He was soft and gentle—and I loved it.
I was extremely glad he didn’t ask me to go on a run with him this morning. But it was nice to see him showered and dressed in a suit. God, how that man filled out a suit…it was enough to turn me on.
Shaking my head, I turn my thoughts back to work and, unfortunately, Margie. What the hell is she up to?
On the bright side, I haven’t heard from Terry yet, which was a godsend, but I also still haven’t heard from Robert Walker from Sphinx. In the two days he gave me to complete my investigation, I have come up with absolutely nothing. And I am angrier than I have ever been. Surely someone knows something.
I watch as Margie picks up her purse and pulls it onto her shoulder before opening my door and looking in. “I’m going out for lunch.”
“Just a second, Margie,” I call out, stopping her. I take out my wallet and ask, “Can you grab me a sandwich, please?”
She just stares at me, unmoving. “I’m sorry, I have to go to the bank, and I have some family business to attend to. And I’m meeting Hayden. You wouldn’t want me to let him down, so, I just don’t think I’ll have time.”
Just the mention of her and Hayden in the same sentence sets my teeth on edge. “Oh…oh, that’s okay,” I manage to stumble out. “Not to worry.” I direct a tight grin at her and in return I get a wide, know it all smile. She turns and bounces through the sales office, straightening her skirt as she goes.
I call the deli down the block and ask them to deliver me a sandwich, but they tell me it’s an hour wait, so instead I grab my purse and go out to grab something.
Walking through the city, there’s always a street vendor selling food. I walk about five minutes down the block and see a hot dog cart. Today is not the day for healthy salad and shit, I need something more. I stop at a cart and grab a hot dog with ketchup and mustard and pay the guy before thanking him and walking away. I go to my car and eat my lunch in there. While I’m out of the office I might go and annoy Everett. He doesn’t usually go out to lunch, and if he does, it’s usually because he’s coming to me.
It still makes me wonder about how close we’ve become the last couple of months, but I honestly wouldn’t change it for all the money on Wall Street. If there was one thing my father taught me, it was if you found someone you could be comfortable with and who you loved, then hold onto them. I know I haven’t told Everett, but I know I love him. I’ve tried to push it back a
nd lie to myself, but it hasn’t worked.
Once my lunch is finished, I wipe my mouth with a napkin and throw it and the hot dog tray away in the nearest trash can. I take a bottle of water from my purse and drink down half of it. I start my Corvette, find the nearest Starbucks, and grab us both some coffee before I head to Everett’s office.
Fifty-three
Margie
“Margie. What are you doing here?”
My greedy gaze roams over his suited body from the doorway. What I wouldn’t give to have him hovering above me. Or even better still, bent over the desk with a handful of my hair clenched in his fist as he fucks me from behind. He would be so good. His dark features and that five o’clock shadow he’s been sporting recently is enough to have me dropping to my knees and begging for it.
“Is Reagan alright?”
Fucking Reagan…it’s always about her. I turn away for a second, closing my eyes tightly.
I conjure up an image in my head of us being together, not him and Reagan. That bitch needs to find out what it’s like to want, to need, to not have everything handed to her on a silver platter. I’ve had to work so hard all my life. I didn’t even graduate college
I soon forget all that and put a smile on my face, walking into his office slowly but surely, placing one foot in front of the other. I close the door softly before moving to the desk, placing my palm on the glass top and dragging it along as I find my way around to his chair. Pulling it out, I drop my ass down into it and spin around to face him.
“So this is what it feels like to be on the opposite side of the desk. I can see why Reagan likes it so much. She really must feel like she’s in control. Must be nice.”
“It’s Ms. Quinn to you,” he says with a firm voice. Of course that just makes things worse. “Can I help you with something?”
His muscles bunch as he folds his arms across his broad chest. I’m salivating just looking at him. Although nothing is a prettier picture than when he runs. The muscles in his legs and the sweat glistening over his tanned skin… I’ve gone back to my apartment many a morning after watching him and made myself come with my own hand.
“I don’t have all day, Margie. And I’m assuming you don’t either. So why don’t you tell me why you’re here.” He smiles politely but I know he doesn’t mean it. I know he doesn’t like me. We can’t upset his fucking precious Reagan.
I cross my legs, one over the other, hitching my skirt up my thighs a little. Resting my elbows on the armrests of the chair, I sway the chair gently from side to side. “I wanted to talk to you about Reagan.”
His eyebrows pull in and his eyes narrow. “What about Reagan?”
He puts his hand on the armrest and stops the chair from swinging. I can’t help but gaze up at him as he leans over the chair, his breath in my face as it puffs out. “Tell me.” He’s firmer than before.
Staring into his green orbs, I almost get lost in them. I grin capturing my lip between my teeth. My gaze drops to his hands; he follows my line of sight and stands upright.
“I can talk to you, right?” He folds his arms across his chest again, nodding. “I think she’s sabotaging the accounts. I think she’s the one who’s lost the account and has realized she’s been caught so she’s blaming everyone else.”
With a frown he turns away, giving me his broad back. “Are you crazy?” Everett spins back around with a surprised look on his handsome face.
“No. But I think she is. You have to believe me.” Standing from his chair, I take a careful step toward him and look up. “Honestly, I think she hates me.”
He sighs as his hands slide into his pockets and steps back from me. “She’s just a little stressed right now, she doesn’t hate you.”
“Stressed?” I roll my eyes at his reply. Her being stressed is bullshit. “Well, you know stress can make you act crazy.” I put on my best puppy dog eyes, my eyelashes fluttering.
“Reagan would never sabotage her own job. She’s been there longer than some of the furniture. It’s her life.” His eyes narrow as he mulls it over in his mind. “I think you’re lying…”
“I can understand that. You would stick up for her. But why would I lie, Everett? I have no reason. I love this job, and Terry is really good to me. He let me go to that dinner party when Reagan said it wasn’t for assistants. He’s listened to my concerns when I’ve needed someone…”
“Wait, if it wasn’t for Reagan taking you on, you wouldn’t even fucking know Terry Hicks,” he spits.
With some caution, I reach out. The tips of my fingers slide down the lapels of his jacket and I step closer until we’re toe to toe. “You’re too good for her. You’d be much better off with someone else. She doesn’t love you.”
His nostrils flare and I know I need to strike while the iron is hot.
Flattening my palm against his hard chest, I run it upward, feeling every muscle. His eyes darken and he catches my wrist in his grip, squeezing it between his tight fingers.
“Don’t touch me.”
I laugh, breaking out of his hold, and turn away. “If you won’t listen to me, I’m sure Terry will. Maybe I’ll tell him how his darling little Reagan is trying to ruin his business.” I spin away from him, my hair flicking in my wake.
Everett is much quicker than me. His fingers wrap around my bicep, his grip tightening as he spins me back around. Before I can protest, he’s slamming me up against the wall. With both of my hands pinned to the wall, he lowers his face to mine.
I’m so turned on by all this I have to clench my thighs together to stave off the tingling. “Maybe,” I breathe into his face, “I’ll tell Reagan about this little scenario. I’m sure she’d love to hear about this.”
“One word to Terry about Reagan, or to Reagan about this, and I’ll finish you. Do you hear me?” he grinds out, his jaw pulsing with anger.
I stare back at him, a smirk tugging at my mouth.
Everett is so focused on getting me to hear his apparent threat that he doesn’t seem to hear the door open, but I do. Rolling my head to the side, I glance at the doorway and smile when I see Reagan in the doorway. Knowing this is my one chance, maybe my only chance, I push forward. “Too late.” My lips are on Everett’s before he can even argue.
“Everett?” Her voice breaks. As I stare at her I can see the hurt in her eyes. The pain that this is causing her.
I almost feel triumphant. I couldn’t have planned this better if I tried.
Fifty-Four
Reagan
Once I’m parked, I grab both coffees and walk through the main door, telling the receptionist who I’m here to see, and she lets me keep going. Pressing the button on the wall, I call the elevator just as I hear my name being called. I turn and smile when I see Everett’s assistant.
“Hey, Joy. How are you?”
“I’m great, thank you. I assume you’re here to see Mr. Brooks.”
“I am. Is he available?” I ask politely, smiling. I love Joy. She’s been nice to me ever since I first met her.
“As far as I know, yes. I just picked up some lunch for him, and I know he didn’t have any lunch meetings.”
“Oh good. I didn’t call him, so I was kind of coming here on the off chance that he’d be free.” The elevator arrives and we step inside together.
She leans in and smirks. “I think we both know he’d make time for you, Ms. Quinn.”
“Please call me Reagan. I hate the formality out of the office.”
“Of course, if you insist.” She smiles back. “Although he seems to be a popular man with your office today…”
I feel my eyebrows pull together at her cryptic statement. No one from Hicks has contacted him as far as I know. But then it seems I don’t know a lot these days. I don’t understand anything anymore. She waves a hand in front of me, still smiling.
Coming to a stop, the elevator doors slide open and we walk out together, going into her office. “Go on inside, Reagan. I’ll
bring his lunch in, in just a minute.”
I start to walk to Everett’s door, but Joy’s statement about him being popular gnaws at me. “Joy, what did you mean about Mr. Brooks being popular with my office?” Why would Margie call Everett? I need to know.
“Oh, your assistant has called a couple of times today. Go on in, honey.”
As I approach the door, I hear voices.
I place my hand on my stomach to will away the sudden case of nerves I seem to be having.
Rather than knocking, I open the door.
The scene before me has my stomach bottoming out. Everett is standing in front of a woman, her hands pinned to the wall. Her mouth against his. My heart is beating so hard it’s like it’s going to break out of my chest.
The blonde looks at me. That smug grin has me wanting to punch her.
“Everett?” I call out. My voice is thick with emotion as my hands shake. My hold loosens on the coffee cups and they drop to the floor.
He looks to the side, his body jerking away from her.
My eyes cloud over with tears. It feels like a thick fog has settled over them. My breaths get heavier as the fog turns into black spots. I’m spiralling. I need to get out of here.
“Reagan? Is everything alright?” Joy asks, appearing at my side.
I don’t answer. I can’t. I don’t know what to say.
“Rae!” Everett calls out. His desperate voice is trying to cut through the white noise that’s currently deafening me, but I can’t look anymore. My eyes close. I’d love to not have to open them again, because as soon as I do, I see her. I see him. And I see them against that wall.
He disgusts me. She disgusts me.
I spin around, almost breaking my neck on my five-inch heels, and stumble away. My hand rests on the wall while I take a second to regain my footing and my balance, then I rush off through the office, wanting to get away from him and her as quickly as I can. I stab the call button for the elevator over and over, but it doesn’t arrive any quicker. At least not quick enough.
