My planned evening of eating potato chips and watching movies in my pajamas has come to a screeching halt. I need to get dressed if Jade is going to drag Joey's sorry ass into this apartment. Damn my life. I knew I should have rented my own place. Sitting in my room for more than an hour makes me stir crazy. This apartment is tiny but it's my home so I'm going to make the best of it.
I hear a very faint knock on the door just as I'm pulling on a pair of oversized sweat pants and a t-shirt with my high school football team's name emblazoned across the front. These are the comforts of home and I wear them when I'm feeling like I don't quite belong in this big, sometimes very emotionally empty, city.
"Go to hell, Joey," I call through the door. "Go home. I'll tell her you were here."
The volume of the knocking only increases. The rat-a-tat-tat grows increasingly louder with each rhythmic beat. I reach for my smartphone and pound out a message to Jade telling her that Joey is determined to talk to her.
I slump against the door, wondering if I'm ever going to get to sleep tonight.
Chapter 6
Alec
She didn't show up. She fucking didn't get in the car that I had sent for her. Goddamn. I'd waited at the condo for more than an hour while Gabriel raced around the streets of Manhattan trying to hunt her down. There's no way in hell that she didn't know that car was for her. She walked past it on purpose. She actually decided to avoid me. It's rare. I admit that most women fall over themselves trying to get my attention. When one doesn’t want it, it naturally makes my cock ache for her.
I call Lance's name the moment I step off the elevator and into the space that houses my offices. Heads turn when I pass and it has everything to do with the fact that I hold their fate in my hands. I run this business the same way I run my entire life. I'll drop you if you prove that you're not essential to me. I've had to fire more people than I can count since my father gave me control of his business. His idea of keeping employees loyal was giving them bonuses and tropical vacations. Mine is using security software to track their online movements and cameras in every office to see who is fucking who on my dime.
Where the hell is Lance? I pick up my desk phone just as he pops his blond head around the corner and into my office. "I'm sorry, sir. I was busy."
"Busy?" I unbutton my suit jacket before lowering myself into my chair. "Busy doing what?"
"I was helping someone with the coffeemaker."
"There's a coffeemaker in this office?"
"In the lunch room, sir."
"Where's that?" I cock a brow. Obviously my time in the office is actually spent in my office not wandering the halls trying to make friends.
"It's down the hall. You need to take the second left and then…"
"Christ, I was joking, Lance."
He pulls his lips into a goofy grin and I swear I get a glimpse of a retainer in his mouth. How old is this kid? "What do you need?"
"When you were checking on Libby Duncan, did you happen to get an address for her?"
He nods vigorously. "I thought you might want that."
"Why would you think that?"
"Why would I think what?"
Lance is smarter than that. "Whatever, Lance. Do you have it or not?"
"I have it." He bolts to his feet. "It's at my desk."
"Write it down for me. I need to pay Ms. Duncan a visit tonight."
***
I don't come down to this neighborhood often. If I'm being completely honest, I don’t come down here ever. I'm here tonight for only one reason and with any luck it's still wearing those yoga pants it was earlier.
I've been thinking about Libby all day. The way she looked up into my face when I told her who I was keeps flashing through my mind. She was both intrigued and intimidated.
The fact that she didn't immediately agree to sleep with me isn’t surprising. People, mostly women, will tell you that I can have any woman I want with the snap of a finger. It's not true. I have to work for it sometimes, but never too hard. If a woman can't see the value in what I'm offering, there's always another waiting around the corner.
Tonight, I'm here to find out if Libby is as smart as Lance says she is. If she is, this will be the last time I have to come down here. Next time I see her, she'll be on her knees, in my condo with my dick sliding between her lips.
Since there's no fucking elevator I take the steps two at a time until I reach her floor. The minute I round the corner towards her door I see him. It's a guy, Libby's age. He's tall and slim. He's pacing back and forth, his hands pulling on his hair. What the fuck is this?
"Hey," I call out to him.
"Hey, dude." He tips his hand in my direction.
"You waiting for someone?"
"Jade."
Jade isn't Libby so what the fuck ever.
I walk up to her door, knock softly on it and listen for her footsteps.
There's only silence so I knock again, louder this time and wait for the moment when she finally opens the door.
Chapter 7
Libby
He won't stop knocking. Why did I pick a roommate whose entire life is drama filled? All I want is to go to bed.
"Fuck off." I slam my hand against the faded white paint that covers the door. "Just fuck off already." This night has fast become a living and breathing nightmare.
"Libby?" A male voice that's deep and smooth pours through the air. "Libby Duncan?"
I know that voice. I'll never forget that voice. It's the same voice that propositioned me just hours earlier. Alec Hughes, in all his handsome and desperately alluring glory is standing on the other side of my apartment door.
What now? Am I supposed to just open the door and let him in? I can't do that. I look even worse now than I did this morning when he was pressed up against me in the elevator.
"Libby?" He repeats my name in a low growl. "I'd like to talk to you."
I'd like to disappear into thin air.
"I'm busy," I call back in a desperate attempt to get him to leave. I want him to leave, don't I? My heart is racing within my chest but that's because of what just happened with Joey. It has to be. I don't want Alec Hughes. My body might want him, but my career focused mind is telling me that it's a bad idea to open the door and let him in.
Fuck. It.
I swing the door wide open and I have to take a step back. He's beautiful. How can a man look this good after an entire day at the office? He's changed his clothing. He's wearing dark pants and a light green v neck sweater. His black hair is still a tousled mess but now he's sporting the first hints of a five o'clock shadow. Considering that it's after nine, he looks better than most men do when they first shower and shave for the day.
"Wow," I say without thinking. Libby, you said that out loud. You fucking just said that to him.
"Wow?" He repeats it back as he steps forward. "What's the wow for?"
I need to pull myself together. "I thought…it's just that…I thought you were someone else," I stammer through gritted teeth. This is going nowhere near the way I want it to. I want to appear at least semi coherent.
"You thought I was the guy wandering the hall." He tosses his head back to the side as he steps over the threshold into my apartment.
"He's still out there?" I dart my head out into the hallway and catch a glimpse of Joey's back as he walks down the corridor. "I told him to leave."
Alec turns to look at me. "I'll remove him from the building myself if he's bothering you."
The declaration catches me off guard. It's a strange mixture of old fashioned chivalry with an off putting assumption.
"He's harmless," I say as I shut the door. "He's waiting for my roommate."
"For a moment I thought he was your type." His gaze is focused on my t-shirt.
There's no way he can believe I have even an ounce of fashion sense. So far today he's caught me twice in outfits that shouldn't ever see the light of day. "My type?"
"Earlier you said your type lives in this buil
ding." He taps his black loafer against the floor. "I assumed that was your type." His hand flies past my head towards the door.
"You thought Joey was my type?" I crack a wide grin.
"That's amusing?" He rakes his hand through his hair.
"He's my roommate's ex-boyfriend," I offer. Why am I telling him this? Why is he even here?
His eyes survey the entire room. "Do you like living here?"
The judgment beneath the question is glaringly obvious. He doesn't approve. "It's comfortable," I snap. I can't even begin to conjure up an assumed image of what his place must look like. Judging by the fact that he's the sole backer of Selfish Fate, I know that he's not pinching his pennies the way I am.
He nods as his eyes drift back to me. "You didn't get in the car I sent for you today."
I purse my lips together. I didn't anticipate having this conversation with him. I assumed that once he realized I was serious about not wanting to be his temporary distraction that he'd move on to someone else. The chorus is filled with beautiful women. "I took the subway."
"I told you I wanted to speak to you." He pushes his hands into the pockets of his pants. "I want to explain a few things to you."
I'm tired. I have an early call time at the rehearsal hall tomorrow and then a shift at the jewelry store I work at a few times a week. I don't have time to banter about the merits of being the puppet on his string. I don't want to become someone whose only legacy in the theatre world is that she jumped into the bed of Alec Hughes.
"I don't have time for this," I spit out. The words sound more rushed and aggressive than I want them to.
"You have plans?" The corner of his mouth pops up as his hand grazes across my hip. "Are you going to work out? Do you mug people at night? What plans do you have dressed like that?"
I try not to break a smile. I know I look hideous. "I'm going to sleep."
He pulls up the sleeve of his sweater to look at his watch. "You're going to bed at nine o'clock?"
"Yes." I nod heavily. "I have a busy day tomorrow."
He scrubs his hand over his face. "This won't take long, Libby."
I know I should insist that he leave and it's not because I'm craving the lumpy mattress that this furnished apartment came with. I'm worried that he's going to find a way to climb over the wall of resistance I've built around myself and convince me to become his fuck buddy for the season. "Please have a seat." That sounded just like my voice. I felt my lips moving. Did I just invite Alec Hughes into my apartment? My fucking mouth did and now my mind has to fight against everything I want to stay in control.
Chapter 8
Alec
"You want me to agree to spend time with you while I'm in the production?"
I nod before crossing my left leg over the right. "That's it, Libby."
Fuck this piece of shit couch I'm sitting on is uncomfortable. I swear to God there's a stray spring piercing my left nut. Her father is a goddamned billionaire and she lives in this hell hole? What's up with that? She's got to be one of those trust fund kids out to prove to her parents that she can make it on her own, rats and all.
"That can't be it." She sounds confused. "I'm not an idiot."
She's a genius. Most of the women I fuck can't string together a complete sentence. Wait. That's a lie. I don't talk to them long enough to know whether they have a grasp of basic vocabulary or not. When I'm staring at a woman's mouth I'm not thinking about the words coming out of it. I'm usually focused on my dick going in it. "Why can't that be it?"
"I have to give you something in return," she says sheepishly.
She's shy? I highly doubt that. She's an actress. They're never shy. She's pussy footing around the issue. She wants to ask if she has to blow me when I take her out to a nice dinner or if I'll sit her in my lap so she can ride my cock when I give her a set of earrings. Come on, Libby, spit it out.
"Your company is all I'm asking for," I shoot back.
Her eyes jut around the room. She's actually thinking about it. Maybe driving over here wasn't such a waste of my time after all.
"That's bullshit," she whispers.
"It's bullshit?" I wait a breath before I continue under a sly grin. "Why is it bullshit?"
She blows a puff of air out between pursed lips. "You want to sleep with me."
Hell, yes, I do. Actually, I don't want to sleep with her. I want to drive my cock into her and then send her home. Although, personally I wouldn't call this hole in the wall a home.
I cock my left brow. "I can't fault you for wanting to cut right to the chase."
She sighs. I can tell that she's frustrated. She's fidgeting in her seat. "I'm sorry," she offers in a breathless tone.
Fuck me, she's gorgeous. Even wearing what looks like her boyfriend's clothes she's hotter than most women I've ever been with.
"I'm a direct person too, Libby." I lean forward to rest my elbow on my knee. "It's a strong quality. I like it."
"Alec, I," she starts before pulling in a deep breath. "I don't sleep with men I don't know. I don't sleep with men in exchange for anything."
There it is. The resistance I felt the moment I touched her in the elevator. I dart my gaze to the floor before I pull it back to her. "You're very focused on the sleeping together part of this."
She blushes slightly as if she's realizing I haven't mentioned fucking her. "I know that has to be part of the arrangement."
"Arrangement? I don't see it as an arrangement." I don't. I'd label it a lot of things, but not an arrangement. That speaks of a formality that I don't want. I want to fuck her, over and over again. Then I want her to leave me alone and go on with her life. End of story.
"It's an arrangement. I've heard about it."
"You've heard rumors about it," I counter as I lean back again. "You don't have a clear picture of what I'm offering you."
She rubs her hand over her forehead. Anxiety is pulling her brows together. "I know that you choose a girl from every production you invest in."
"Not every production," I snap back in a lie. "Not every woman I see is involved in the theatre."
Give me more credit than that. I fuck women. I'll fuck any woman who catches my eye. I don't have a type. It just so happens I fucked two who were in the Broadway plays I invested in.
"You have propositioned women in other plays you've backed, haven't you?"
My brow furrows. She hasn't just heard the stories about me; she's jumped to her own conclusions. "You're coming into this with a preconceived notion of who I am."
"I can tell you exactly what I've heard about you if you want." She crosses her arms across her chest in defiance.
She's a firecracker. I haven't worked this hard to get a woman into my bed, well, ever. Why the fuck am I still sitting in this dump listening to her cast judgment on me? What's wrong with me? I can be in a bar within the next ten minutes with at least three women lined up who want to get me off.
"Please do," I say even though I know I'm going to regret this. "I'm all ears."
She adjusts herself slightly on the edge of the chair she's sitting on. "I heard that you picked a girl to sleep with from the last play you invested in and the play before that."
I raise my index finger to stop her. "Libby, I already told you…"
"I know," she interrupts. "You don't choose a woman from every production." The clear emphasis is on the word every.
I nod in response. My eyes are glued to her face. I'm taking way too much pleasure in watching her squirm.
She pinches the bridge of her nose. "You do nice things for them."
Nice things? Seriously? What the fuck is that?
"I take very good care of the women I spend my time with."
Her face flushes at my words. She knows I'm not talking about gifts or outings. I'm talking about sex. I take care of my partners. I never leave them wanting. Correction. I never leave them unsatisfied. I always leave them wanting more.
"I'm sure you do," she says softly.
"L
ibby." I run my hand along my cheek, stopping to race my finger over my chin. "You're very attractive." I know I should follow my instinct and walk out the door right now, but I can't. There's something about her that is pulling me into her. I don't need to define it right now. All I need is to get her to agree to this.
She glances down at her clothing before pulling her hand through her hair. "I'm not."
"You're interesting to me," I offer, ignoring her comment. There's no way in hell she's oblivious to how attractive she is. I don't buy that for a second. "I'd like to get to know you better."
"We can just go on a date," she suggests.
"I want more than a date." My tone is forceful. "I'm a busy man. I don't just date women. I like if we have a clear picture of where things are headed before we invest our time in each other."
"Is that because of expectations?" For someone who is as smart as Libby is, she definitely knows how to play the dumb blond card to a tee. She's playing with me. She has her own agenda.
"Let's cut to the chase." I'm tired of this cat and mouse game we're playing. Right now, I actually have no idea, which one of us is the cat and which is the mouse.
"Okay, fine." She pushes both her heels into the floor. "What are you actually proposing?"
I've never had to spell it out with this much definition. Christ, she's wearing on my last nerve. "You make yourself available to me over the course of the next few months and in return, I'll help your career."
Her brow spikes at the mention of her career. I threw that in there for good measure. If pressed in the past, I would have offered a piece of jewelry or a car. Yes, I'm that guy. I'm the guy who buys a woman the pretty, fancy shit she wants so I can get a taste of her pussy. Judge me not. The approach has yet to fail me.
"Help my career in what way?" Her interest is not only peaking, it's exploding. I just found the magic ticket to get inside Libby Duncan's ripe, beautiful body. I just have to give her a chance to shine in Selfish Fate and she's mine.
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