by Ruby Rowe
Greyson
Grabbing Sasha by the ankles, I yank her toward the end of the bed. Her head slips under the blanket, and she’s soon flailing about, trying to get out from under it. Her eyes appear, and they’re round, the color gold like cognac. They’re also drilling me with spite.
“Greyson! What the hell are you doing?”
“Waking your ass up so you’re not late for work.”
“We agreed you wouldn’t barge in here.”
“That was before I knew I’d have to hear your alarm go off a dozen times. If you don’t want me in here, then get your damn self out of bed.”
Brushing strands of her long hair away from her face, she huffs, “Well, maybe you need to have your coffee before my alarm goes off, and then it won’t bother you so much.”
“You need to grow up, Sasha. You’re not a teenager. If you want to amount to anything and get out on your own, you have to be responsible. Did your parents spoil you or something?”
“Get out. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
“I’m leaving in five. There’s keys on the kitchen counter. You can drive the white BMW in the parking garage, and you can explain to Rhonda why you’re late.”
I march from her room to the kitchen. My housekeeper, Theresa, holds out a mug of coffee for me.
“I couldn’t help but hear your disgruntled guest.”
“That’s Sasha. She’ll be staying with me for a while, and I have a strong suspicion she won’t be picking up after herself, so I’ll increase your pay while she’s here. If she’s ever rude to you, you let me know.” I point a finger at her. “Do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”
“Each and every time as long as I work for you, sir.” She flashes me a smile, and if she wasn’t so damn good to me, I’d probably bite her head off this morning, too.
I hate how Sasha’s getting under my skin. I should’ve left her ass in bed this morning. Then, I could kick her out this evening for not appreciating the opportunity I gave her, but somehow, I already care too much.
I guess I’m waiting to hear her story from either her or Ellis, but I suspect I’m only going to care more once I do, and that can’t happen.
I peel out of the parking garage, and my phone rings. The screen on the dash in my Wraith reads Whitney. Fucking great.
“What?” I ask.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“What do you want, Whit?”
“I love when you call me that. I remember when you first started shortening my name. It was when you looked at me and talked to me like you gave a damn.”
“You want something. What is it?”
“I’m coming over this evening.”
“I’m busy tonight, tomorrow night and the night after that.”
“We can’t avoid this forever, Greyson.”
“I know, but I have a lot going on this week. Let’s discuss it next week.”
“Look, I’ll make this super simple for you. I picked out the engagement ring I want. All you need to do is pick it up and slide it on my damn finger. I’ll say yes to your implied proposal and make up a convincing story about how romantic it was.”
“Do you hear how jacked up that is?”
“It’s only because you won’t cooperate.”
“Right, like that’s the only reason, but like always, you would think it’s my fault. I have to go.” Ending the call, I slam my head back against the seat. Her surly voice is like nails on a chalkboard. How in the hell will I live with her for the rest of my life?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sasha
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Thirty minutes late to be exact, and don’t blame it on traffic.”
“I won’t make excuses. I overslept, and it won’t happen again.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Good answer. I won’t tell HR this time.”
“Thank you.” I truly am thankful for her acceptance of my apology. Theresa had a packed lunch waiting for me in the kitchen this morning. She’d never met me, yet she still took time to make sure I would eat today.
Combine that kind gesture with driving Greyson’s luxurious car, and it was impossible not to consider all that he said to me. He was right; I need to grow up. I have to get my shit together and prove to him that I’m grateful and can make something of myself.
Maybe one day I’ll have a home of my own. It won’t be a penthouse, but I don’t need a lavish home to be happy. A hot meal and a bed, and I’m one content girl, but I guess I haven’t shown him I’m grateful for even that.
***
“Hi, do you have a minute?” I ask Greyson before I leave work at the end of the day. He tosses a pen on his desk and motions to the chair in front of it. “I don’t need to sit. This should only take a minute.”
I do shut the door behind me before I proceed. “I’m sorry for this morning. I wouldn’t have yelled at you, but you scared me. I can’t be grabbed or touched like tha—”
“Sasha—”
“Please, let me finish. I was in the wrong for not getting out of bed this morning. You’re putting a roof over my head, feeding me and giving me a car to drive. On top of that, you provided me with a great job here. I promise I’ll get up every day and come to work. I won’t let you down again.”
Blinking slowly, he smiles. “I only push you because I want the best for you.”
“I know that. I don’t understand why, but I believe you. Anyway, that’s all I wanted to tell you. Oh, and I won’t be home this evening. Camilla and I are going to the salon and to dinner.
“She’s giddy that I have a job, so she wants to treat me. I can’t wait to return the favor once I earn a few paychecks. I’ve never been able to do anything for her.”
“That’s great. I’m glad you’re taking this opportunity and running with it. What about your recovery?”
I look to the floor. “Uh, I probably shouldn’t have told him this soon, but Terrence and I were talking at lunch, and he mentioned first that he was a recovering addict.
“He said you gave him a job here, too, so I shared about my drug problem, and he offered to take me to an NA meeting tomorrow evening.”
“Sounds like everything is coming together for you.”
I clutch my hands in front of me, feeling giddy myself.
“It is, thanks to you. I’ll leave you to your work now.” He nods and smiles, but there’s a sadness in his turquoise eyes. Deciding our conversation was personal enough, I leave it alone and exit his office. He hasn’t mentioned there being a woman in his life, but it’s hard to believe. His heart’s too big not to love someone.
***
Pulling up to the gate at Ellis’s home, I smile at the guard. Recognizing me as Camilla’s sister, he opens it to let me through.
Cammy’s already waiting on the steps outside as I approach. She gets in the passenger seat and laughs.
“I never imagined we’d both get a chance to drive such luxurious rides.”
“I know. It’s crazy, and I’m so nervous I’ll hurt the pretty thing.” As I pull away, I rub the dash. “Where’s Liam? I figured he’d tag along.”
“Ellis offered to keep him while we’re out. He said he has a lot of time to make up for. I can’t describe the feeling I get when I see him smile at his son.” She rests her head back against the seat. “I’m so fortunate he forgave me.”
“Sis, that’s great.”
“He knows everything about me now except for the reason why you and I left South Carolina. I have to tell him, Sasha.”
“I know. I don’t like it, but I understand.”
“He will, too. I believe that we can trust him, and it feels good to finally have someone to count on.”
“Yeah, I’m beginning to understand. I’ve only been at Greyson’s a few days, and I’m already seeing how nice it is to have a responsible man to count on instead of the losers I’ve dated in the past.”
I feel Camilla’s eyes on me, and the purr of the engine is the only other sound I hear. “It’s not like that.” I give her a reassuring look. “I only mean I feel safe … and lucky.”
“Maybe you should come live with us.”
“No, Greyson was right when he said you and Ellis needed time together. Actually, you, Ellis and Liam need time to be a family.”
“I shouldn’t tell you this, but Greyson’s getting engaged. It’s an arranged marriage with someone in their high-society circle,” she says in an irritated tone. “It’s absurd to me. I mean, what century do their parents think this is?
“And what’s odd is his father seems like the most laid-back man. He was sweet and funny, and I can’t picture him making Greyson marry someone he’s not in love with.”
She touches my arm. “Please don’t say anything to him, though. We’re not supposed to know about it.”
“I won’t.” I do, however, ponder the news she briefed me on. There’s a tinge of jealousy that someone else gets to have a future with Greyson, especially someone he doesn’t love. Is this why he hasn’t mentioned her to me? If so, that’s sad.
If he’s really engaged and I can’t talk to him about it, then what am I supposed to do about living there?
Greyson
Once I finish eating the awesome steak, scalloped potatoes and asparagus Theresa left in the oven for me, I change into athletic shorts and a t-shirt.
It’s almost nine o’clock, and I’m tired, but it’s too early to crash, so I sit on the couch and turn on the television to catch the latest sports news. About ten minutes in, the doorbell rings. God forbid I ever relax.
Few people have access to this floor, so I’m curious who it could be. I tread to the door and swing it open.
“Whit, what are you doing here?”
“It can’t wait.”
Rolling my eyes, I step back for her to enter. Her long lashes flutter up at me as she brushes against my body to step inside. I follow her to my living room, and she takes a seat on the couch in her slinky hot pink dress.
“Would you like to have a seat?” I mumble sarcastically. I also cross my arms and keep a safe ten feet between us. I’m being a dick, but she brings it out in me.
“Stop, Greyson. You act like I’m a stranger.”
“You pretty much are.”
She pats the spot next to her. “Sit so we can talk.” Fooling with my hair, I trudge over and take a seat. “If you don’t want my father showing up here or at your office, then you need to put a ring on my finger.
“I’ll set the date, and our mothers and I can arrange the wedding. I swear all you have to do is show up for the parties and the wedding. That’s it. Oh, and get fitted for your tux.”
“That’s it?” I ask with aggravation. “I think you’re forgetting the most important part of this deal. It’s where I agree to spend the rest of my life with you.
“We’ll have to live in the same house and be there for one another not only in health but in sickness, too. We’re also supposed to remain faithful.”
Whitney tears up, and her lip quivers. Ah, shit, this never ends well.
“You act like I’m diseased or something. Greyson, I know we’ve both screwed around. I won’t try to hide it.”
“Good because I have a mental list of guys you’ve fucked all this time we were supposedly in a relationship. The latest being that douche, Sebastian.”
“Oh, don’t you point fingers. At least he wants to touch me. What about all the women you’ve slept with? I saw you sneak off with Penny at the gala.”
“I wouldn’t let her wet my dick for a million bucks.”
Whitney smiles, and it reaches her glassy green eyes.
“Really? You didn’t sleep with her?”
“No, but I’m not innocent, either.”
Scooting closer, she wipes a stray tear from her cheek.
“Let’s start over, Greyson. When we first got together, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.” She slithers her fingers over my thigh. “You used to look at me like I was your whole world. What changed?”
“We did. We grew up and became two different people. I’m sorry to say it, but you don’t think about anyone other than yourself. It’s always about what’s best for you, and I grew tired of watching the Whitney show.”
“That’s not true, but I’m willing to try harder to make this work. An engagement could be our fresh start. We can work on our relationship and agree not to sleep around.”
“That’s the thing, Whitney; we shouldn’t be getting married when our relationship needs fixing. Hell, to me we don’t even have a relationship.”
“Together, our grandfathers built an empire in the oil industry. We’re the two people they’re counting on to link our families together. Look, I promise I’ll be the person you need me to be. Just give us another chance.”
Her hand slides over my cock, and rubs all rational thought right out of me. My dick hardens beneath her palm, and I’m fucked.
Her pouty lips press to my cheek next and kiss their way behind my ear and down my neck. I get a whiff of the familiar fruity scent from her strawberry-blond hair.
Angry that her seduction is working, I groan. She always wins, and I’m tired of it, but on the other hand, I need a release from the sexual tension I’ve been carrying lately.
“Take me to your room, and I’ll show you I’m willing to change. Do what you want to me, Greyson,” she whispers in my ear, “or I can suck your cock right here.”
A blowjob sounds appealing, but I don’t want her in control. She thinks she owns my balls as it is. I’m not giving her access to the real pair. No, if she’s so determined to give me what I want, then I’ll fuck her doggy style right on this couch.
“Shift around, and bend over the arm rest.” She starts to say something but wises up. Setting her purse on the floor, she gets in position for me.
She lifts her dress, and I eye her smooth, bare skin. A slip of light pink lace runs down the crack of her ass, and it matches the lace that trims the top of sheer stockings that cover her shapely thighs.
Damn, one thing I do love about a woman with money is how they pride themselves on the sensual lingerie beneath their clothing. Opening the drawer on the side table, I fish around until I find a condom.
Yanking down my shorts, I roll the latex over my cock quickly before I lose my hard-on. I stroke myself a couple of times while I shove her thong aside. She whimpers and sinks against the two fingers I push inside her.
We haven’t slept together in six months, and although I know I’m an idiot for sticking my dick in her again, I have this strong urge to hate-fuck her senseless.
Grabbing a hunk of her hair, I wrap it around my wrist and slam into her. She gasps, stunned by my aggressiveness. I’ve never been this rough with Whitney.
We were each other’s firsts, so it was all gentle and sweet back then and set the stage for the sex to come, but I’m over doing things the way she wants, and I’m done pretending that we love each other.
Remembering that I’m fucking her, I drive into her harder. The self-loathing rises from the ashes for being weak and caving in.
I’m doing this so I can punish her while I get off, and she’s doing it so she can marry a man that doesn’t even want her. We’re sick, and I don’t see how I’ll go through with the wedding.
Catching sight of a shadow, I look up in time to see Sasha. She’s standing paralyzed and watching us. I should stop this instant, but I can’t any more than she’s able to stop watching.
It hits me like a bolt of lightning. I’m angry because it’s not Sasha I’m fucking. It’s not Sasha I can get to know or let in. I can’t spend time with her, and in about two seconds, I’m going to be reminded why she can’t live with me. Whitney’s body tenses, and Sasha’s eyes grow rounder.
“Who the fuck are you?” Whitney yells. Sasha turns toward the foyer but then turns back the other direction toward the hallway.
She wants to run, and I know what’s going through her head. The car’s not mine, and the bedroom’s not mine... Where the hell am I supposed to go? The realization makes me sicker than before because she was supposed to feel safe here. She was counting on me.
I slip out of Whitney and pull up my shorts about the time Sasha runs to her room and slams the door. Whit’s on her feet in a flash. “Who the fuck was that? And why did she head toward the bedrooms?” Her nostrils flare, and her skin is scarlet.
“It’s not what you think. She’s the sister to Ellis’s girlfriend and needs a place to stay. She’s an addict, and you know I’ve helped out several people during their recovery.”
“No, you helped out several males while they recovered.”
“It shouldn’t matter what sex she is.”
She grabs her hip. “When did you plan on telling me this?”
“I didn’t think it was a big deal, and I doubt she’ll be here long.”
“She’s not staying here period. Do you know what people will say if they find out you have some other girl shacked up with you? You’re not humiliating me in front of our family and friends.”
“What you said about changing is total bullshit. You plan on bossing me around like you always have, and it’s not happenin’. She can live here as long as she wants, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”
Swiping her purse off the floor, she huffs and straightens her hair.
“I better get a fucking ring by the end of the month, or I’m telling your father about your slutty side piece.”
Grabbing my head, I let out a roar that echoes through the house, but it’s not as loud as the sound of the lamp crashing to the floor after I throw it.
Sasha
Flinching from the sound of something breaking, I toss my suitcases on the bed and begin stuffing them with the few clothes I’d found a home for. I shove the dresser drawer closed and turn around to soak in the last sight of the spacious room and solid oak furniture.
