by Nikki Chase
“You can't choose the family you're born into. I got lucky with my parents. Some people aren't as lucky.” He smiles wryly. “It's more embarrassing to fuck up the family you choose for yourself.”
“You're talking about your marriage?” My heart beats rapidly as I perk my ears up to listen. I’ve been curious about this, and not just because it was such a high-profile divorce. Now I want to know about it because it’s something that happened to Heath, and I want to know everything there is to know about him.
This is exactly the kind of juicy insider info Jane and her friends would be interested in. But I can't tell her, and I haven't been telling her much lately.
Heath has been opening himself up to me and letting himself be vulnerable. I can't break his trust in me.
“Yeah,” he says. “I really thought we were going to make it. But looking back now, I realize there were some warning signs that I failed to notice. So this failure, I can't blame it on fate or someone else.”
“Whoever says you're a failure is crazy, and you're out of your mind too if you believe that,” I say.
Heath chuckles as he wraps his other arm around me and pulls me against his chest. “You're the crazy one for thinking anyone suspects you can't handle life on your own.”
“Maybe we're both crazy.” I nuzzle into his chest. The fabric of his business suit feels soft on my cheek.
“Evidently,” Heath says as he kisses my temple. “No sane person would be doing what we're doing.”
“On the other hand, if we pull this off, nobody will ever find out about it, so people would still think it hasn't ever been done,” I say, suddenly feeling like we're partners in crime.
“That's true. Maybe millions of people have done this and nobody knows,” Heath says as his hands start to move down from my shoulders and caress my sides, brushing against my breast and settling on my waist. “But I bet not too many people have had sex on the deck of a New York City penthouse.”
The corners of my lips tug up into a smile. I know where this conversation is going, and I like it. “It would be pretty cool to be a baby who's conceived on the deck of a New York City penthouse.”
I think about adding a line about how the kid could boast about it in private school, but I bite my tongue. It's just too sad to imagine the kid growing up and Heath moving on without me.
I’ve been trying to pretend that won't happen, even though I know full well that it will. But maybe if I don't think about it, I can convince myself otherwise and go on to lead a somewhat normal life as a romance author.
I should be excited about that new life, but as sadness washes over me, I can't not admit that I’ve let myself get carried away.
As Heath leans me down until I’m lying flat on the couch, I push all those thoughts away.
I won't have him forever. Our time is limited. I should make it count.
Heath wedges his knees between my legs, forcing them apart, pushing himself against me like he wants to climb inside me. He doesn't know he's already penetrated my armor and seeped through my skin.
It's going to hurt when this is over, when the time comes for me to yank him out of me. But everything ends, right? It's just a matter of time.
I loved having my dad around when I was younger, until he left.
I had no choice but to stick with Vera, until I finally gathered up the courage to leave.
Living with Jane had been great, until I left. Maybe I’ll end up moving back in with her, maybe I won't.
But my point is, everything in life has an expiration date. I just have to make my peace with that, otherwise it would be impossible to enjoy anything life has to offer.
And so, I open myself up to his fingers, welcoming the present pleasure and the pain that's sure to come in the future.
“You’re so wet,” he says, half groaning with urgency.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” I give him a flirty smile.
“I thought you were going to work today?”
“Yeah. I was writing down what we did in your office.”
“Oh, Sarah and Mr. Jones got laid?” Heath asks.
I can't believe he remembers the names of my characters.
I start to laugh, but it turns into a sharp gasp when he pushes his fingers inside me and explores the most intimate part of me. His knows what he's looking for, and he knows he's found it when my body tenses. He watches me with this look of satisfaction that says he enjoys driving me crazy with arousal.
I can't wait anymore. I reach down and feel for his cock. It's already rock hard. I feel a spark of feminine pride, knowing he's getting hard for me.
“Heath, please…” I beg as my back arches. “I need you.”
“Fuck,” he curses. “You're unbelievably hot.”
I guide him to my center, and he pushes inside. It doesn't take long for him to find the same spot he stroked with his fingers earlier. As the pressure inside me builds to the point of trembling, Heath’s every thrust grows more insistent and less refined. When he grips my hips hard, I know he's close. His cock gets slightly bigger and harder inside me as his movements grow jerky.
“Put a baby in me,” I say before a white-hot explosion of pleasure overtakes us both.
Yeah. This wouldn't have happened with my previous roommate.
Heath
“Thank you, Bob. I really appreciate it.” I get up to shake the man’s hand. He’s the CEO of a big publishing house and we’ve just signed a contract for me to manage his portfolio. But that’s not what we’re talking about now.
I do favors for people all the time so they’ll do the same for me when I need them. I’m calling in one of those favors now, but this time I’m not doing it for my business.
“Honestly, it’s no problem at all,” Bob says. “All I did was forward your email. She likes the manuscript.”
“I’m sure the fact that the CEO himself asked her to do it also factored in her decision.” I give Bob a smile as we both make our way toward the door of my office.
“It probably did,” Bob says with a shrug and a genial smile. Laugh lines appear in his face and blend in with his wrinkles.
I like Bob. I don’t often see laid-back guys like him become CEOs, but the guy is just so damn likeable, I can see people working extra hard for him just because he’s asked nicely. His secret to success is probably something fucking snuggly, like treating his employees well.
“So, I’m guessing this emerging author is someone special to you, then?” Bob asks with a cheeky raise of his eyebrows as we stop by the door.
“She’s a friend.” I give Bob a diplomatic smile.
“Ah, friend. I see.” Bob winks. “You know, when my wife and I first met, she told her friend I was just a fling. Forty years later, she’s still with me. Pretty good for a fling, huh?”
I can’t help but grin. I don’t doubt that a young Bob could charm any woman he wanted into all kinds of things.
“If this friend is the reason you’ve been so happy lately, you should keep her around,” Bob says.
“Really, she’s just a friend.”
“And I’m just your client. But I’m also an old man who knows a thing or two about being in love. You’ve been zoning out a lot during our meetings lately. And smiling to yourself, too. I know the symptoms.” Bob pauses. “When you asked me to personally request a meeting with Miss Laura Love, that was my confirmation. You’re sick, son.”
My heartbeat grows faster as I realize that I’ve made a mistake. I thought Bob was far enough removed from the situation for me to ask for his help. But he’s nothing if not perceptive. Now I’ll always wonder if Bob knows the identity of the mother of my future child.
“You’ve got it wrong, Bob.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone,” Bob says quickly, as if he can read my mind. “I just like it when love stories have happy endings, especially if I have a hand in making romance happen. I just couldn’t help giving you some advice. My wife makes me happy, I like you, and pe
ople I like deserve to have that kind of happiness too.”
He seems so certain, it’s probably not a good idea to protest and try to convince him that I’m not lovesick. I simply say, “Thank you, Bob. I like you, too.” Which is true.
“It’s a pleasure to do business with you, Heath,” Bob says before he strolls out of my office, whistling.
Whatever that guy’s on, I want it. But I don’t think I’ll ever be that happy—I’ll never stroll and whistle in an office after a business meeting.
If anyone knows the secret to happiness, it’s probably Bob. But could he be right? Am I in love with Kat?
This is not the time to be thinking about that. I have a job to do now. An unpleasant one.
Come to think of it, my work day is quickly filling up with Kat-related things. She’s been living with me for almost one month now, and before I realize it, she’s invaded all parts of my life. I even make a little detour to get her stuff when I pick up some groceries.
I was pretty good at keeping my work at the office and not bringing it home when I was with Melanie. But now, I’m failing at keeping my personal life at home and not bringing it to the office. This has never happened before. Even a client has noticed. I really need to do better.
But first, there’s another thing I need take care of.
“Hello,” Jeff answers his phone.
“Jeff, come to my office now.” I was in a good mood before, but as soon as hear this motherfucker’s voice, I want to punch something.
“There’s no update from the legal department today,” he says.
“It’s not about that. I need to see you about something else. Now.” I hang up.
I stew in my chair as I wait for Jeff to reach my office.
How much time does it take to take the elevator and go two floors up? My fists itch to meet his face. But violence has never been my style. It causes more problems than it’s worth.
No, I’m going to hit Jeff where it really hurts: his bank account.
“Heath, you wanted to see me?” Jeff says as he cracks the door open.
“That’s what I said.”
He looks nervous. He twitches more than he usually does, and his face is even paler than usual—more green than white. Maybe he knows something is up.
Or maybe he’s finally realizing how deep the fucking hole he’s dug for himself is. Because I’m going to kick him in there screaming, “This is Sparta!” like Leonidas in 300.
I throw the magazine on my desk. It slides over the smooth wooden surface until it stops right in front of Jeff. He gulps, almost audibly.
Yeah, you know you’ve fucked up.
“Does that look familiar?” I ask him.
Sure, it does. Hell, it looks fucking familiar to me.
The garish pink “Celebs” across the top of the cover. The big, yellow headlines. The pictures of trashy people in heavy makeup. And then, there’s me—and Kat.
This is just one of the many magazines that display our pictures on their loud, gaudy pages. But the pictures are the same. They were taken at the airport.
Many people saw us zooming past them on the caddy that day, but these were apparently taken with a professional zoom lens from a staff-only area of the airport. In other words, these were taken by paparazzi, who had expected us at exactly that spot at that particular time.
Someone must’ve leaked the details about my flight to the media. After some sleuthing, I learned that it was Jeff.
“If that magazine doesn’t jog your memory, maybe this will help.” I turn my computer monitor to face Jeff so he can see the pictures he’s taken of Kat, in and around the office. “You’re a fucking creep, Jeff.”
At my words, his gaze snaps from my monitor to my face. Good. He’s been silent for long enough. I want to hear what he has to say. This should be good.
“Yeah? I’m the creep?” Jeff asks. “You’re the one who’s got a fucked up contract with her.”
The fucking nerve on this guy.
“Everything between Kat and me is consensual. She entered the contract out of her own free will,” I say calmly, keeping my simmering anger under the lid.
Jeff shakes his head slowly. “Kat wouldn’t do that to me. You must’ve made her.”
She wouldn’t do that to him? What the fuck…?
“Get help, man. You don’t even know her,” I say. “And what you did, taking her pictures without her knowledge, could be considered workplace harassment. And you know we don’t tolerate that.”
“Fuck harassment. What about how you lured her into your trap?” Jeff asks.
Okay, something is seriously wrong with this guy.
“You’re delusional.” I wish I saw that before I asked him to draft the contract between Kat and me. “I was going to ask you some questions, but I know everything I need to know now. Obviously, there’s some mental issue you need to see a professional about.”
“You need to let her go,” Jeff says.
“I’m not keeping her against her will,” I say. “Now, Rita is waiting for you at HR. I suggest you—”
“You need to let her go,” Jeff repeats, louder this time.
“What part of ‘consensual’ don’t you understand?”
“You’re going to pay for this, for what you’re doing to her,” he says.
Jesus, it’s like he doesn’t even hear me.
“If you care so much about her, why did you let the paparazzi take her pictures? At the very least, you could've taken the pictures yourself and put fucking black bars over her face before you send them to the media. But you don't have the balls,” I say, unable to hold myself back any longer. “She was really upset about her anonymity being compromised.”
“Bullshit!” Jeff screams, becoming completely unhinged now. “If people don’t see her face, how are they going to be able to rescue her? You’re just afraid that she’s going to gather up the courage to leave you.”
Fuck, he’s just not listening to me, and his narrative is sounding stranger by the second.
I’m starting to feel sorry for the man. He seems to genuinely think that Kat’s in danger.
But at the same time, he’s becoming agitated and I’m worried he could become violent. I press the hidden button on the underside of my desk to call security personnel.
“I’m telling you, Jeff, things are not how you think they are,” I say calmly as I clasp my hands together under the desk.
“Of course you’d say that, you fucking asshole!” Jeff yells.
“Look, I’m sorry I have to do this, but you need to leave, okay? I’m not sure you’re in any condition to stay any longer. Skip the trip to HR and go straight home. Once you’re there, I suggest you call a shrink and make an appointment. You need help.”
As two burly security guys in all-black uniform appear in the doorway, Jeff twists to glance at them. He then stares me in the eye and says, “I swear I’m going to make you pay for this.”
“Please take him away,” I say to the security guys, ignoring Jeff’s threat. What’s he going to do? Tell the paparazzi to take even more pictures of me?
Once he’s gone, I call HR to let them know what’s happened. They’ll remove Jeff’s name from the list of active employees and put him on a blacklist. He won’t find another job at a company of this caliber ever again.
I’m sure I’ve done the right thing, but it bothers me.
I’m sorry to see Jeff go. He used to be a brilliant lawyer. I don’t know what’s happened to him. Maybe he’s always been unstable, but he used to be good at hiding it, until Kat apparently triggered something within him.
I can’t blame a guy for going crazy over her, though. She’s something else.
And I can’t blame anyone for wanting to protect that strong beauty who seems perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
I know that doesn’t seem to make sense at first glance, but the very fact that she’s so independent makes me want her to rely on me, to share some of her burden with me. That would feel li
ke such a privilege. She wouldn’t trust just any man with that kind of responsibility.
Hell, that girl can make a bad habit look good. I used to hate it when she bit her cheek. But now, every time she does that, usually while she's concentrating on writing her novel… I just die. It's like my heart crumbles and my lungs collapse for a second.
...
Ah, fuck.
Now I’ve gone and done it. The very thing I said I wouldn’t do.
It just took me a long time to realize it, so long that even Bob saw it first.
Kat
“I love this latest installment of your story. Things are really heating up between Sarah and Mr. Jones. Rawr! <3”
I smile to myself as I read the e-mail from Laura Love, my favorite romance author. She’s been on the New York Times bestsellers list so many times nobody's keeping track anymore. And she's been nice enough to critique my manuscript.
I still can’t quite believe that we’re friends now. Ever since we went on that first coffee date that Heath arranged, we’ve been staying in touch. She even lets me read her unfinished, unpublished manuscript!
The romance fan inside me is still freaking out, while the author in me is trying her best to keep her cool so I can at least glean some knowledge from her.
Laura told me that Bob, the CEO of Core Publishing, had sent her an email one day, asking her to read my manuscript if she had the time.
She gets multiple such emails every week, mostly from her fans. But since this was from the CEO, even though she didn’t have to read the manuscript, her curiosity was piqued.
At first Laura intended to hate-read it because, in her own words, “If the CEO recommended you, you were probably some spoiled brat who’d graduated college with an English degree and thought that meant you could write. I expected it to be bad. But then suddenly I’d finished the first chapter and I hadn’t seen anything bad. So I read another chapter, and then another, and then before I knew it, I’d stayed up the whole night to finish it.”
Those words are some of the best things my ears have had the pleasure of hearing.
