Recovering Ivy

by Riley Edwards

  I clocked Forester before he approached but made no indication I knew who he was when he stopped in front of us.

  “Mr. Gold, pleased you could join us tonight. Declan wasn’t sure you’d be free,” Forester offered his hand.

  “Zane, please.” I shook his hand noting his palm was clammy and his pupils were dilated. Definitely high.

  “I got us a table; Susan will be right back.”

  We followed him back to the table and before I could sit, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I scanned the patrons again and saw nothing. I learned a long time ago not to dismiss my gut, and my gut was screaming shit was going bad.

  “Ah. There she is.”

  “Sorry.”

  That voice.

  I turned and came face-to-face with the woman who’d plagued damn near my every thought today. She rocked back on her heel and her eyes widened. I grabbed her arm before she could take a header and pulled her close to me.

  “Thank… you,” she stuttered.

  “Susan, this is Mr. Gold. This is my assistant, Susan Black.” Forester made the introduction.

  “Nice to meet you, Susan. Please call me Zane.” Ivy’s cheeks pinkened and relief washed over her.

  What the actual fuck was going on?

  Did Ivy play me?

  “Please, let’s sit,” Forester suggested and pulled his own seat out and sat. Douche.

  I released Ivy and pulled the chair to my left for her to sit first.

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  She had on a sexy red wrap dress. I knew if I peeled it back I’d find my bite marks on her perfect tits, shoulders, and stomach. I felt my cock stiffen and my anger spike. I fucking hated not knowing all the intel before I walked into a situation. I was kicking my own ass for not asking Declan to see the picture of the hot PA he’d hoped was clean so he could bang her.

  Fuck.

  Why did I want to kick Declan’s teeth down his throat for thinking about fucking Ivy? Never, not once in my life, had I ever been possessive over a woman. My Knob Creek, sure. My 35-year sherry cask Bowmore whisky from Islay, abso-fucking-lutely. A woman I had fucked once? No. It was laughable.

  The waiter came, and we ordered our drinks. Small talk was made and the entire time I was seething. Declan was right, I didn’t see any indication Ivy was anything more than Forester’s assistant. She was distant, and her interactions were forced. If I had to guess, I’d say she wasn’t a fan. I excused myself from the table under the pretense I had a call. Once I was outside, I pulled my phone out and called Garrett.

  “I need you to email Forester Grant from his office. I don’t much give a shit what you say, just so long as he has to leave the bar and go back to the office,” I told Garrett.

  “No problem. It will take two minutes.”

  “One more thing, clear the conference room. Susan Black’s real name is Ivy. I don’t have a last name.”

  “Her name is Ivy Daly, twenty-seven. No priors.”

  Twenty-seven, fuck. I was ten years older than her. I’d practically robbed the cradle. Maybe it was time I started checking IDs and running background checks before I bedded a woman.

  “Who does she work for?” I asked.

  “No one. No work history for the last year. Before that she worked as a real estate agent.”

  “Is she married?” The thought of Ivy fucking me while married made me want to punch a wall.

  “Negative. No husband, no kids.”

  “Anything I should know?” I asked.

  “She’s boring. I can’t find any ties to any organization. The only thing I found was she is a smoking hot, single, out of work real estate agent. Just to say, I’d buy a house from her. I bet the men who attended her showings were buying the fantasy, not a house.”

  “I’m aware of what she looks like,” I growled. Intimately aware; I’d tasted and touched every part of her. “Get Forester gone and I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

  I disconnected, not wanting to hear any more about how hot my friends thought my woman was.

  What. The. Fuck.

  She was not my woman. The woman. A woman I’d fucked, that was all she was. The violence I’d felt when I heard Declan and Garrett talk about her was only because she’d been the one to walk. Besides, I liked redheads, feisty women who drove me crazy. Not sweet, doe-eyed brunettes who hid behind a mask and a happy-go-lucky smile. The mere fact I was giving Ivy a second thought pissed me right the hell off.

  This ended, tonight.

  I walked back into the bar, navigating my way through the throngs of beautiful women. I looked around wondering what Ivy would say if I brought one back to the table with me. Would her eyes flash in anger, would her cheeks pinken, would she even give a shit? Fucking her again was not going to solve my problem but fucking someone else could. Wall to wall well-dressed stunning women and I couldn’t find a single one that stirred my interest. The appreciative glances my way hadn’t gone unnoticed and yesterday more than a few would’ve had my cock throbbing in my pants. But tonight? Nothing. Ivy was fucking with my head.

  “Sorry about that,” I said and took my seat.

  “No problem. Declan was explaining you’d like to expand your portfolio into tech. As it happens, Techwatch is rolling out a new product in six months. The opportunity is there to make serious money,” Forester said.

  That was his pitch? We were there under the guise we wanted to invest ten million dollars in Techwatch and that was how he thought he’d get me to sink much-needed cash into the company? Fucking idiot. I suppose he didn’t care either way. He’d gathered all the information he needed to take back to Smart Technologies. I’d guess the CEO would have Forester’s resignation in a matter of days. Forester pulled his cell phone out of the breast pocket of his coat and stared at the screen, his face twisted into a grimace before he looked up.

  “Gentlemen. I’m sorry to have to do this, but an emergency has come up at the office. I’m needed immediately,” he said.

  “Is everything okay? Do I need to come as well?” Ivy asked.

  Hell to the no she wasn’t going anywhere. I placed my hand on her knee giving it a firm squeeze conveying my thoughts on the matter.

  “No. Actually, it is an emergency meeting for upper management. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  We stood and shook hands with Forester. He wasn’t more than ten feet away when I turned and leveled Ivy with a stare. “What the fuck?” I growled.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” she whispered and held her hands up in a defensive move.

  “It’s not? Because from where I’m standing you’re a fucking liar. And there is only one thing I hate more than a liar.”

  “I take it you know each other,” Declan interjected. “I suggest we take this somewhere more private.”

  “We’re leaving alright. Garrett has a room ready for us,” I told Declan.

  “You want me to tail him or come in?” Declan’s head swiveled between me and Ivy.

  “What’s going on?” Ivy asked.

  “Not a word from you.” I turned to Declan and answered. “Follow us back to the office. Maybe she knows something useful.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Ivy protested.

  “We have two options here. Either you strut your fine ass out of here on your own two feet and get in my car or I can throw you over my shoulder and haul your ass out. Choice is yours.”

  “That’s kidnapping,” she said and crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her already impressive cleavage to new heights.

  I looked at Declan, and his eyes, too, had zeroed in on the display. Jealousy welled, and a low warning growl slipped before I could stop it. I fucking hated him looking at her tits, but I hated that I cared even more.

  “Fine,” she said, realizing I’d cause a scene and not care. Picking up her purse, she started for the door. She swayed and swooshed her ass all the way to the front and pushed the exterior door open before I could do it for her. I was getting ready to
chastise her for not waiting for me when she turned and said, “I don’t have a car here.”

  “How did you get here?” The thought of her in the car with Forester had me seeing red.

  “I took an Uber.”

  “Want me to take her with me?” Declan asked.

  “No. She’s with me. We’ll see you at the office,” I told him and reached for Ivy’s hand.

  Once again, a spark of electricity arced between our hands. “Stop doing that.” She tried to pull her hand away, but I held tight.

  “This way.” I pulled her to my Rover and opened the door. Once she was secured, I rounded the hood and got in.

  “Will you please tell me what the issue is?” she asked.

  “Not now.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To my office.”

  “Why?”

  “Christ. What is this - twenty questions?”

  I was trying to keep my anger in check, but the day was wearing on me, and the uneasy feeling I’d had was back tenfold.

  “I barely know you and you demand I get in your car so you can take me somewhere. I think I have a right to know why and where.”

  “You barely know me? That didn’t seem to be a problem for you last night,” I reminded her.

  “That was last night. And this is now. And, yes, I barely know you. So where are you taking me?”

  “Woman, I’ve fucked you in a multitude of ways. I don’t know how you can sit there and say you don’t know me. And we’re going to my office.”

  “Yes, Zane, I fucked you. But that doesn’t mean jack shit. All I know about you is you have a big dick and give good orgasms.”

  “They must not have been all that good. You hightailed your ass out of my apartment bright and early.”

  Jesus fuck, what was wrong with me? I sounded like a whiny teenager.

  Ivy remained quiet the rest of the short drive. She didn’t speak when I helped her out of the car, or when I led her through a series of security protocols.

  “Are you some prepper freak?” she asked when we entered the elevator.

  “What?”

  “The handprint scanner. The coded key locks. The eyeball scanner thing to open the elevator. Jeez. Are you planning for the end of the world or are you hiding a secret Batman cave?”

  If she only knew.

  The security was necessary if I wanted to stay alive. Not that I would tell her that. Instead, I remained silent as the elevator rose to the third floor. When the door opened to the inner sanctum, I heard her heels clink on the concrete floor then stop.

  “Wow. I was right. You’re hiding a Batcave.”

  I took in the large space, trying to see it through her eyes; several doors open to private offices and a large command room enclosed in smart glass. The room housed all the surveillance monitors and was supervised 24/7. In the middle was a maze of cubicles with high-tech workstations. All clean lines with gray walls and chrome accents. I was proud of what I’d built.

  I turned left and pulled her into the conference room. There was seating for eighteen around the large table, with a sixty-inch LCD screen on the wall above a credenza which I kept well stocked with high-end liquor behind the hand-carved wooden doors. This was the room where we planned our missions and I met with future clients. It was a well-appointed room and screamed class and privilege - something I didn’t have growing up.

  I lowered the blackout shades that also served as soundproof insulation over the polycarbonate ballistic windows. The entire office was fitted with bulletproof and soundproof walls. Every precaution had been taken so that the outside world could not intrude - something that was necessary when you are dealing with top secret missions. Not that my meeting with Ivy was top secret, but I wanted privacy.

  I also wanted her uncomfortable.

  I didn’t have the time or the patience to extract the information I needed with bullshit niceties. The sooner I learned about her involvement the better.

  So, I set about doing just that. “How long have you worked for Forester?”

  “Why? What’s this about? Are you investing in Techwatch? I don’t know anything about the technology behind the product. You’ll have to ask Mr. Grant.”

  “What exactly do you do for Forester?” I asked.

  Declan walked in and set a folder on the table in front of me. I opened the file and thumbed through the eight-by-ten photographs inside.

  What the fuck!

  “Tell me, Ivy, does your job description entail you setting up prostitutes for Mr. Grant or do you simply enjoy watching?”

  I was pleased when the blood drained from Ivy’s face, leaving her pretty complexion a nice shade of white.

  6

  Ivy

  “What?”

  Zane set a photo on the table and slid it across the smooth surface. It stopped in front of me and when I looked down, I knew I was screwed. Someone had taken a picture of Forester meeting with a hooker in the lobby of the Bistro Inn, a small boutique hotel that featured fine dining, a bar, and thirty guest rooms. Sure as hell, there I was off to the side, caught spying, taking my own pictures.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” I tried to explain.

  “No? That’s not you watching Forester with a call girl?” Declan asked.

  “It is. But I didn’t order her. I have nothing to do with his activities.”

  “Then why were you there?” Declan continued his questioning. “And here. And here.” He pushed more pictures in front of me.

  “Why does it matter to you? What I do with my time is none of your business. Why are you following Forester?”

  Was this what big investors did? Did they follow upper management before they invested their money to make sure the investment was solid?

  “Because he’s being investigated for corporate fraud,” Zane told me.

  “What?” I sounded like a broken record, but I wasn’t understanding what was going on. “I thought you were investing in Techwatch?”

  “And I thought your name was Ivy,” Zane sneered. I no longer liked hearing my name come from his mouth. Last night it was smooth and sexy, and now it sounded like a curse.

  “My name is Ivy.” Shit, they knew my employment records were fake. “Why did you pretend not to know me at the bar?”

  “Which time? When I took you home? Or tonight when I didn’t blow your cover? Would you have preferred I had thanked you for the fuck in front of your boss?”

  “You’re an ass.”

  “You played me,” he shot back.

  Played him? Was he out of his mind?

  “How did I play you? You picked me up. We had a good time. I left. I thought you’d be happy I was gone by the time you woke up. No awkward, get out of my house speech.”

  “Get out of my house speech?” The man was infuriating.

  “You want to do this now? In front of him.” I nodded in Declan’s direction.

  “I’ll give you the room,” Declan said.

  “I want privacy,” Zane told him. “Tell Garrett to cut the feed.” Were we being recorded? Great. Declan left and Zane turned to me. “Explain.”

  “Explain what? I don’t understand why I’m here.”

  “The get out of my house part,” he clarified.

  “Nothing to explain. I don’t know why you seem so pissed. I left and saved you the trouble of asking me to leave. That’s it.”

  “The men you’ve had in the past tell you to get out in the morning?”

  “No. That’s never happened before. I’ve never had a… one-night stand before. Believe it or not, I don’t make a habit out of going home with strangers.” Why was that so embarrassing to admit?

  “So you assumed I’m such an asshole I would’ve told you to get out?”

  Why was he making this so difficult? He’d started last night by telling me it normally didn’t matter to him if he knew the woman’s name he was taking home. That was indication enough he was well versed in one-night stands.

  “Why d
oes it matter to you?” I asked.

  “Fuck if I know. But it does. I’ve spent the entire day fucking irate that you slipped out.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Zane’s mouth twisted into a grimace and his brows knitted together. “I’m an asshole and a liar now?”

  “I’m exhausted, Zane. I didn’t sleep last night. I was late to work. All I wanted to do was go home and sleep then Forester told me he needed me at an investor meeting. Now I’m here, bone tired, and I want to go home. Please tell me what you want so I can go home.”

  Zane leaned back, and I studied him, studying me.

  He looked different in a suit. Last night he was in cargo pants and a t-shirt; he looked hot as hell. But in a suit? Even being a dick, he made my insides flutter. There was an air of caution that surrounded him, but tonight, looking delicious, it was leaning far right into the danger zone.

  “Tell me what you know about Forester.” His tone accusatory and assessing, I didn’t much like it and had no problem telling him.

  “Nothing…”

  “Cut the shit, Ivy. You’ve worked with him for nine months. You follow him. What. Do. You. Know?”

  “He’s a scumbag. He hires hookers like three times a week.”

  “Why do you follow him?”

  “Zane. That’s none of your business.”

  His fist came crashing down on the table with a bang, making me jump back in my chair. He leaned in, the look on his face scared the shit out of me, and left no room for argument - I may’ve peed a little.

  “Fucking hell. I’m trying to help you.”

  I thought back to all the times I’d heard that before. I’m trying to help you, Sarah, here’s another hit. I’m trying to help you, Sarah, here’s another pill. How many times had my father plied my mom with drugs to keep the upper hand? More times than I cared to remember. In my experience, no man was just trying to help you. They wanted something in return. They helped themselves first and foremost.

  “You don’t want to help me. You want to help whatever investigation you have. You don’t even know me. Why would you want to help?”