On Her Terms
Madison Quinn
To my husband for supporting me in this new crazy venture, when I’m probably already busy enough.
To my readers, without you I wouldn’t have had the courage to take this leap.
© 2018 Madison Quinn
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 Nicholas
Chapter 2 Kenzie
Chapter 3 Nicholas
Chapter 4 Nicholas
Chapter 5 Kenzie
Chapter 6 Nicholas
Chapter 7 Kenzie
Chapter 8 Nicholas
Chapter 9 Kenzie
Chapter 10 Nicholas
Chapter 11 Kenzie
Chapter 12 Nicholas
Chapter 13 Nicholas
Chapter 14 Kenzie
Chapter 15 Kenzie
Chapter 16 Nicholas
Chapter 17 Kenzie
Chapter 18 Nicholas
Chapter 19 Kenzie
Chapter 20 Kenzie
Chapter 21 Nicholas
Chapter 22 Kenzie
Chapter 23 Kenzie
Chapter 24 Kenzie
Chapter 25 Nicholas
Chapter 26 Nicholas
Chapter 27 Kenzie
Chapter 28 Nicholas
Chapter 29 Nicholas
Chapter 30 Kenzie
Chapter 31 Nicholas
Chapter 32 Nicholas
Chapter 33 Kenzie
Chapter 34 Nicholas
Chapter 35 Kenzie
Chapter 36 Nicholas
Chapter 37 Nicholas
Chapter 38 Kenzie
Chapter 39 Nicholas
Chapter 40 Kenzie
Chapter 41 Nicholas
Chapter 42 Kenzie
Chapter 43 Kenzie
Chapter 44 Nicholas
Chapter 45 Kenzie
Chapter 46 Kenzie
Chapter 47 Nicholas
Chapter 48 Nicholas
Chapter 49 Kenzie
Chapter 50 Kenzie
Chapter 51 Nicholas
Epilogue Kenzie
Chapter 1
Nicholas
My phone has been buzzing all morning with text messages from Cara—normally this would drive me crazy and frustrate me to no end since it’s the middle of the work day. However, from the moment I see the first picture of Kenzie smiling in an awful, green dress with too much lace, I can’t help but chuckle. I’ve been down this road with Cara before: she loves to try on ugly or silly dresses when she shops and clearly she has gotten Kenzie involved in her little game.
The pictures all make me chuckle… until the one entitled “Pretty Woman.” The picture has Kenzie wearing an incredibly short and tight, dark blue mini skirt with a white tube top. All that is missing are the fishnet stockings and the red wig. While this is one of Cara’s favorite movies, the similarities are not lost on me. Of course, Kenzie was not a prostitute when I met her, but some of the circumstances are so close to the movie that I can’t ignore.
There is no denying that she looks incredibly sexy in the picture, and seeing her in so little clothing has me thinking of how it felt to kiss her last night. I don’t know what came over me when I leaned in after our dinner, I was just overwhelmed with this sudden urge to feel her lips against mine again. I can still remember how soft her lips felt and how she pressed against me while she tugging my hair. And the sounds she made! I don’t know if she even knew she was making them, but every time she moaned my dick twitched with desire. I couldn’t help but think about what type of sounds she would make when I fucked her, and that thought nearly had me at full attention.
With us that close, there was no hiding how much I wanted her, but I didn’t need her becoming uncomfortable. I know she doesn’t feel the same way I do. I want to fuck her, and she wants someone to make love to her. I’d want to fuck her anywhere I possibly could yet she would expect it to happen in a bed, surrounded by flowers and candles I’m sure. I’d walk out as soon as we were done, but she would expect cuddling and for me to sleep with her. That’s not an option.
Except, I have slept with Kenzie. I still don’t know what to do with that. When I signed the contract with Bridget, I never expected her to have such an impact on my life. I thought I would be able to keep this arrangement separate from my personal life, that they would only overlap at the occasional charity event that we attended with my parents. My parents adore Kenzie; my sister thinks she has a new best friend, and I’ve realized we are becoming friends. All of this from a single contract with Bridget, that was meant to change my image for the press.
Originally I thought this would end in a couple of weeks: that the press would realize I was capable of having a relationship with a woman and that they would back off. However, I’ve realized that no matter what I do, they may never back off. Kenzie and I have been dating for about three months now, and yet when we went a couple of weeks without being photographed, the press were quick to drag me through the mud. I hate that the press has bothered Kenzie; I hate that she’s had to leave her job, even temporarily because of me. And I hate that Kenzie is so stubborn that she won’t let me pay her for the income she has lost. How many women would turn that down?
“Mr. Parker?” Melody knocks on my door pulling me from my thoughts.
“Come in.”
“Mr. Morrison is requesting a meeting with you—“
“I have something scheduled with him later this week, don’t I?”
“Yes, but he’s requesting a meeting today. He says it’s urgent—“
“Okay, move what you have to in my schedule. See if Alex can cover something or reschedule it for later this week.”
David Morrison is PFS’s Director of Human Resources and employee relations. I know if he is requesting to see me ahead of our normally scheduled time that it is important. David has worked for me for the last five years and was quickly promoted to his current position based on his ability to relate to our employees. PFS has hundreds of employees across many different fields, yet he has a solid understanding of nearly every position. He is able to talk to a disgruntled employee about an issue they may have and by the end of that conversation, he will have them apologizing for their behavior and assisting them in developing a plan to correct their performance issue. He just has this knack for resolving conflicts, with not only employees but to the management team.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Parker; thank you for meeting me on such short notice,” David arrives in my office only a few minutes later.
“Of course, how are you?”
“I’m well, and you?”
“Good. Please have seat and tell me what’s going on.”
“Mr. Parker, as you know we conduct routine employee satisfaction surveys throughout the year, and up until now, we have always had gleaming results. Our employees have generally been satisfied with our compensation packages,” they should be–I offer one of the best compensation packages out there to all employees. “Including their salary, health benefits and time off. We have been using these surveys for the last f
our years however, this is the first year that the results have been less than positive—“
“What do you mean less than positive? We haven’t changed anything related to benefits or pay.”
“No, Mr. Parker, their satisfaction with those items and their overall job responsibilities remain quite high.”
“So, what is it?”
“Well… sir…”
“Spit it out, Davidson!”
“The area that plummeted drastically is their confidence in the CEO of PFS—“
“Their confidence in me has dropped?” I sit back in my chair in utter disbelief. I have prided myself in hiring only the best employees, in offering the best incentives and in providing a workplace in which my employees are happy, which has resulted in very little turnover despite the industry trend. I have worked hard to portray the image of a manager that they can believe in and of a company that they can be proud to work at.
“Um… yes, sir.”
“Do they cite reasons for the sudden decrease in confidence? When was the last time this survey was distributed, and how was their confidence level at that time?”
“The last survey was conducted roughly nine months ago; at that time their confidence level in you was high, sir.”
“And now?”
“It’s quite low, sir.”
“What was the reason cited for the change in confidence? I’m assuming you asked that question?”
“Yes, Mr. Parker. The survey automatically triggered a secondary question if they indicated their confidence level in the CEO was low asking them for the reason of their low rating.”
“And?” He’s frustrating me with how vague he is being.
“The reason why the consensus was low for that question was due to the negative publicity. Several of respondents stated they are concerned about the stability of your life, your ability to manage your personal life and your professional life as well as the—“
“Wait, you’re telling me that their confidence in me has decreased because of what the press is saying?”
“Based on the responses provided, yes sir.”
“Unfuckingbelievable!”
The fucking press! Of all the things to have a negative impact on now; they’re fucking crossing the line. I can’t have them impacting my employees’ confidence level in me. I can’t lose staff because the press paints me to be a playboy! PFS’s low staff turnover is one of the selling points I make in every proposal we present. If I suddenly have an increase in employee turnover, I will lose projects that we’ve worked months on and spent thousands of dollars trying to close.
I can’t let her take this away from me too. It’s her fault the press won’t fucking leave me alone—they left me alone while we were together and even for a time after things ended between us. Come to think of it, they left me alone for about a year after that. I’d suspected she was behind the negative press, but Carter has kept tabs on her, and she isn’t even in the state.
“I… I thought you would want to know immediately, sir.”
“You were right; thank you, Mr. Davidson. Forward the survey results to me when you get back to your office. I will develop a plan to address the areas in which we fell below our expectations.”
“Of course, Mr. Parker.”
I’m fucking pissed off. I need to figure out how the fuck to fix this and fast. The only problem is, I’m too fucking pissed off to think. I can’t focus on anything. I can’t fucking think, let alone find a solution to this debacle of a situation that I’m fucking in. There’s no point in getting my PR team together again; last time they weren’t helpful, and I ended up firing half of them for their ridiculous ideas. I send off an angry email to my legal department, requesting they notify the press that the next publication that borders on slander will result in an immediate lawsuit. Nothing will come from it, as it never does. The press walks a very fine line in what they publish, and so far none of it has come close to the definition of slander, according to my legal team.
“Melody, cancel the rest of my day and notify Carter that I’m leaving in five minutes.”
I don’t wait for a response before I shut my computer down and put away my files from the day. I can’t sit here and do nothing; I need to fucking do something, and right now I need to find a way to relieve this stress so I can fucking think clearly. Nothing is more important in my life right now, outside of my family of course, than fixing this fucking mess. My entire career, PFS’s future and the future of hundreds of my employees, fucking depends on my next move.
“Sir?” Carter is at my door exactly five minutes after I notified Melody that I was leaving.
“I’m leaving, Carter.”
I follow Carter to the SUV, still trying to figure out how the fuck I’m going to solve this problem. All I know is I need to clear my fucking head; actually, I need to get out of my head for a little while. I need to…
“Carter, take me to the Blue Moon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Forty-five minutes later, Carter has dropped me at the front door of the Blue Moon and waited until I was cleared to enter. He has never liked the fact that I come here because he is not permitted to enter with me. He doesn’t like that he cannot communicate with me once I enter the building either, as all cell phones are secured upon checking in.
This is one of the areas Carter and I have agreed to disagree. While I recognize his concerns, this is the safest option for me. I will not expose myself again, like I did with her and risk the press finding out everything again. The Blue Moon offers a place for people like me to come, and do what we want, without worrying about the press. The application process for a membership is very thorough to ensure people like her can’t get in. In addition to very hefty annual membership dues, all members go through an extensive background screening. Membership is by invitation only; you cannot just apply to become a member without an invitation and written reference from a current member. The people who belong to this club have too much to risk going to the press themselves. The press can’t find this place—hell, if you don’t know it exists, you wouldn’t be able to find it. There are no signs or even windows on the building. There is nothing outside, except a large black door. When you step through the door, you immediately enter the security area where you are held until approved to enter.
It is what most would call a sex club, only it caters to the wealthy and prides itself on protecting the privacy of its members. They cater to everyone: from kink to casual sexual encounters, even to conversation.
“Mr. Parker! It’s wonderful to see you again,” Christine, one of the owners greets me.
“Thank you, Christine. It’s nice to be back.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you here; I was beginning to think you had found somewhere else to play.”
“No, I’ve just been busy with work.”
“Not too many of our members go five months without visiting—“
“Five months? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I checked myself when security notified me you were here.”
“Ummm, I hadn’t realized it had been that long. I assure you though I haven’t been anywhere else; work has just been really hectic.”
“Good to hear. Please enjoy yourself this evening.”
When I enter the main room and take everything in, I realize it really has been a long time since I’ve been here. Most of the members are the same: I only recognize two new members, but it’s the middle of the work day, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more new members coming later this evening. I make my way over to the bar and order a scotch before taking a seat on one of the bar stools. I try thinking back to the last time I was here, and when I finally recall it, I realize that Christine was right–it has been close to six months since I’ve been here. When I first joined, I was here almost weekly, but eventually it dropped to once or twice a month. The last few months have been especially busy though; it’s the first time since I joined the Blue Moon that I’ve had a personal
life, even if it’s a fake personal life.
“Nick, it’s so nice to see you again,” a brunette dressed in an incredibly tight dress stands next to me.
“Bree,” I nod in her direction.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“I’ve heard.”
“Something you want to say?” I don’t appreciate the tone that she has.
“No… of course not.”
“Good.”
“I’m here for a little longer if you want to…” She gestures towards the hallway that leads to the private rooms that are available to members.
“Not right now.”
“If you change your mind, I’ll be here.”
As I watch Bree walk away, I can’t help but shake my head at the idea of fucking her again. She’s a sexy woman, don’t get me wrong, but she just looks… as if she’s trying too hard. The dress she is wearing leaves nothing to the imagination. It’s completely see through, making it obvious she’s not wearing anything underneath it. It’s pretty typical of Bree’s attire when she has been here, though I have no idea what she wears outside of the club, as this is the only place I’ve ever seen her. In fact, I don’t even know what she does for a living or really anything about her other than her sexual preferences. That’s all I’ve needed to know. She was a good fuck, but as she walks away from me, the thought of fucking her again does nothing for me.
I finish my scotch while looking around the room, trying to find someone that I can take into one of the back rooms. I don’t fuck women in the main room; some people prefer an audience, but I don’t. I’m not here for an audience; I’m here for privacy.
An hour later, I’ve downed a second scotch before giving up. I don’t know what it is, but today no one here appeals to me. There are a few women here alone today, all very beautiful, yet for some reason I don’t approach any of them. Instead, I leave the bar and head back to the security area where I retrieve my wallet and cell phone.
A few minutes later, I’m back in the warmth of the SUV, heading back to Accord Towers. I scroll through the many text messages from Cara that I received; a few while I was in the club and a few that I saw earlier but can’t stop going back to—like the ‘Pretty Woman’ one. The last picture of Kenzie grabbed my attention: she’s wearing a simple pair of jeans that accentuate her legs and ass. Her hair is pulled back, and she appears to be laughing at something when Cara snapped the picture.
On Her Terms (The Arrangement Duet Book 2) Page 1
