by Roxy Sloane
There’s a pause, and I can tell from the surprised looks that I’ve shocked them.
Good.
I look around. Kellan is still lounging with a conceited smirk on his face, looking every inch the Californian pretty boy. The other guys at the table are all WASPs in expensive suits.
I blink. “Greyson,” I say coolly, recognizing one of the lawyers across from me.
He sneers back. Charming as ever. He was a few years ahead of me at Stanford Law, and rumor had it his parents bought his acceptance letter with a healthy donation to the alumni fund. Guess he landed on his feet.
I pull out my case files and give them all a big smile to show them I’m not intimidated. “Shall we start?” I repeat.
The answer comes from the man at the window.
“Of course, Ms. Jenkins. Let’s get down to business.”
Chills roll down my spine. I catch my breath, feeling a sick twist in my stomach.
No. It can’t be.
I know that voice.
The deep tone. The crisp British accent. But I don’t believe it's true, not until he turns around and I see his gorgeous face—the face that’s haunted my dreams for the last three years.
Ashton Pierce.
My best friend, my closest confidante. And for one amazing night, the most mind-blowing sex of my life.
CHAPTER THREE
It's really him.
I’m still reeling as he walks around the table, slow as a lion stalking his prey. “Ms. Jenkins, a pleasure to see you.” Ash’s blue eyes roam over me from head to toe, but there’s not a flicker of familiarity in his gaze as he holds out his hand. “Ashton Pierce, at your service.”
I take it in a daze. What is this? He’s acting like we’ve never met before.
“Uh, hi,” I stumble, feeling like I just got hit over the head with an anvil. How the hell is my opposition on this case my old best friend – the one man I ever saw a future with?
My heartbeat thunders in my ears. My head is spinning, and I fight to pull myself together.
Relax, I order myself. Think!
Ash takes a seat at the other end of the table and checks his Blackberry. I use the chance to study him for the first time. Now that my shock is wearing off, I can see that he's still devastatingly handsome, all dark hair and chiseled jaw, and those intensely blue eyes. But there are differences, too: the Ash I knew was happy in jeans and sneakers, while this man is wearing an impeccably tailored suit with a designer watch on his wrist. His perfectly styled dark hair sweeps back from his forehead and frames the piercing blue eyes staring back at me, totally calm.
Panty-meltingly hot.
“Greyson, would you start by summarizing our complaints?” Ash is all business as he takes back control of the meeting. He’s still acting as if I’m a total stranger.
Like that night meant nothing to him.
I feel a splinter of pain in my chest. All my old hurt comes rushing back, and with it a whirlwind of insecurity. He promised to call me after he finished his MBA and was settled back in England, but he never did. I thought I got over the anger and bitterness years ago, but sitting right here in the same room, I feel the wound like it was yesterday.
“Do you agree to the terms, Ms. Jenkins?” Ash asks, and I realize I’ve missed everything they’ve just said. At my hesitation, he summarizes. “We’ll agree to drop the lawsuits, and pay your client ten thousand dollars, if he gives up all claim to VideoMine.”
Ten thousand dollars?
The insulting offer snaps me out of my daze.
“Absolutely not, Mr. Pierce.” I manage to recover. My heart is racing, but I force myself to focus. There’s too much on the line for me to fall apart just because of our past.
You’re better than this, Justine. Get your head in the game.
Ash quirks his eyebrow, looking surprised. “Those are generous terms. Too generous, my lawyers tell me.”
The wall of suits stares at me like I’m something they scraped off their shoe, but I don’t care about them. The only one here that matters is Ash.
I glare at him across the table. He thinks he can throw Adam’s work away, just the same as he tossed out our friendship. “Wall Street thinks VideoMine could be worth billions one day. We’re not settling until my client gets a promise of his fair share.”
“Fair?” Ash looks amused. “You don’t have any proof your client even invented the app. Or wrote the code.”
Adam rises out of his seat. “Only because he stole my laptop!” he exclaims, pointing at Kellan.
“Give it a rest,” Kellan sneers, lounging back in his chair. He’s upgraded from the dorky hoodies I saw in the photos Adam showed me. Now it’s all crisp Oxford shirts and bespoke suits. Yeah, he fits right in with this crowd. “You’re just jealous, trying to hitch a ride on my talent.”
“Bullshit! I’m the one who had to fix all your mistakes—”
“You couldn’t code your way out of a paper bag!” Kellan jeers.
“Enough.” With one word from Ashton, the room goes silent.
I feel a bolt of lust. Damn. He always had a dominant kind of power, but these past three years, he’s clearly honed it into a devastating control.
Memories flood my mind. His hands on me, pinning me down. His mouth on my hot skin. His body, claiming everything I had to give.
I catch his eye again and flush, hoping he can’t see what I’m thinking. But his gaze slides right past me, like he has ice running through his veins.
I hate how much it hurts.
“Your client can whine all he wants,” Ash announces with a glare. “What matters to the courts is proof. There are no letters, no messages, not even a Post-it Note that suggests that Adam worked on the code.”
I know he’s right. Adam and I went over this a thousand times in preparation. He swears he did everything on his computer, and without the hard drives that Kellan stole, there’s no evidence linking him to the program. I’m still confident we can find something he overlooked, but to do that, I need time.
“I need to start my depositions,” I point out. “Once I’ve interviewed everyone, you’ll have your proof.”
Ash continues like I’ve not even spoken a word. “Since your frivolous lawsuit is threatening our product launch, we will have to take measures to protect our property. I trust you received the cease and desist?”
I nod reluctantly.
“That’s only the beginning,” Greyson speaks up with a sneer. “If you don’t drop this, we’ll throw everything at your client. Starting with a criminal prosecution for theft.”
“I don’t understand,” I frown.
“The program he’s working on now bears a significant resemblance to the original VideoMine code,” Greyson explains smugly.
“That’s because it’s my code!” Adam protests. I place a hand on his arm and give him a warning look.
“That’s a malicious suit, totally unfounded,” I say calmly, but inside I’m raging. I can’t believe they’d be so ruthless as to threaten an innocent man with jail.
I look at Ashton, but he’s sitting there with a blank look on his face. I feel betrayed. How could he do this? How could he have changed so much?
Greyson slides the contract and a check across the table. “The offer stands until you leave this room.”
I stare at it blankly. The check is for $10,000. Maybe that sounds like a lot of money, but VideoMine is set to make millions.
I glance at Adam. He looks nervous, but he shakes his head.
“No,” I reply firmly. “Absolutely not.”
Ashton locks eyes with me and I feel a traitorous pang of desire. My skin prickles with awareness, and I press my thighs together under the conference table.
Damn him and his vivid stare.
“If you won’t take the offer, then there’s nothing more I can do.” Ashton unfolds his lean body and rises to his feet.
I bolt up too. “We’ll see you in court.”
The urge to flee is overwhelming.
I need to get away from him, and have time to process this. But I force myself to stay cool, and collect my things. I follow Adam to the exit, but then Ash’s voice cuts across the room and stops me in my tracks.
“Ms. Jenkins, if I could have a word with you for a moment. Alone.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I freeze. Adam turns with a questioning look. “You go ahead,” I murmur breezily, acting casual. “He probably just wants to threaten us with more paper pushing. I can handle it.”
Adam nods, and exits with the rest of them. Finally the room is empty. The door closes behind them.
I brace myself and turn.
Ash is lounging in his seat, watching me. His eyes rove over my body again, but this time there’s a blatant hunger in his gaze, as if he’s stripping my pencil skirt and blouse away, leaving me vulnerable and naked.
I shiver.
“Hello, JJ,” Ashton murmurs, and the sound of my old nickname on his lips sends me flashing back to grad school, and all those nights we spent up late, studying together and talking about everything under the sun.
I can’t let him do this. Five minutes ago he acted like a total stranger.
A total asshole.
“You don't get to call me that anymore,” I tell him icily.
“Why not?” Ashton asks. “Because of the meeting? It's just business.” He shrugs. “It's not personal.”
Is that it? I stare at him in disbelief. I was expecting an apology, some explanation maybe as to why he walked out of my life three years ago with a promise to call, and then never spoke to me again.
Instead, Ashton gets up and strolls to the window. His body is silhouetted by the New York City skyline, showing off his broad shoulders and the tight planes of his lean, muscular body.
I know how good that body feels, sliding sweaty and damp against me. I know how those hands grip tight around my wrists, how my thighs can wrap around his waist.
How his cock feels, driving hard and relentless inside of me.
No!
I stand and square off against him. “You don't get to act like we're friends.” I snap. “Not after the stunt you just pulled.”
“I'm protecting my investment.” Ash frowns. “You should understand business comes first. Did you expect me to let you win, JJ, just because we used to be friends?”
He uses my nickname again, and despite everything, it makes my stomach flip.
“That’s bullshit,” I retort. “You’re using intimidation and bullying to cheat a man out of his work. And the Ash I knew would never have stooped so low.”
“The Ash you knew…” he echoes, and a shadow passes over his face.
“I would ask how you’ve been, but clearly, you’re doing just fine.” I continue, making a show of looking around the fancy office.
“I get by,” Ash replies evenly. “My father passed away soon after I returned to England, and it took some time to get his affairs in order and take control of the company. But, as you've seen, I've expanded it and we've been successful.”
I pause, thrown.
“I'm sorry about your father,” I say. “I didn’t know.”
Ash shrugs. His expression is a blank mask. “He was a controlling tyrant and an angry drunk. It was bound to catch up with him eventually.”
“But, still, he was your father,” I say quietly.
Our eyes meet. Ashton knows how my father abandoned my family when I was a child, and I know how Ashton spent years trying to please his father before finally giving up. We'd both accepted it but sometimes it still stings. It was one of the things that bonded us, before.
For a moment, my anger softens. I remember how close we used to be: how he would surprise me with coffee in the library; hug me from behind and scrape his five o'clock shadow against my cheek until I'd squirm away.
How he made me feel at home in a school full of trust-fund kids and daddy’s little princesses, like there was someone who understood me in the world, with all my fierce ambition and flirty humor.
“What about you, JJ? How have you been?” His question is quiet.
I look away. “Fine,” I murmur, still caught up in echoes of the past.
His cell phone rings suddenly, cutting through the silence. Ash glances at the display. His jaw clenches with tension. “I have to take this,” he says curtly, turning his back on me.
I'm stunned by the sudden coldness in his voice. He’s dismissing me like I’m one of his minions, as if I’ve served my purpose, and he can just release me.
But that shouldn’t be a surprise. He already discarded me once, the last time he left.
“Goodbye,” I manage to say, heading for the door.
As it shuts behind me, I hear him growl into the phone, his tone hard and curt. “I told you never to call me again.”
* * *
I take a cab back to the apartment, my head spinning. It’s not just the way he treated me that’s so shocking, but how everything about him is cold and remote—a million miles from the charming, spontaneous guy I used to know.
What could have possibly happened to make him this way?
His father dying and his inheriting the company, that can’t be it. As much as Ash resented his responsibilities when I knew him, he was always determined to do things his way and not let the pressure control his life.
No, this is something else entirely.
I feel a wave of sadness, for everything we’ve lost. But even as I feel the ache, I know I can’t let myself be paralyzed by the past, not with so much riding on this lawsuit.
My client is depending on me. My whole career is on the line. I’ve already messed up today, getting caught off-guard for the meeting. Now the opposition knows, I’m scrambling to stay ahead.
I feel a fresh surge of determination. I’ll show Ash, I won’t let him ambush me again. I just have to accept that the man I met today is a completely different person than the guy I once knew.
He doesn’t realize yet, I’m different too. I’ve fought too hard to let old feelings cloud my judgment.
The past is dead and gone. I’m going to win this case, and show him exactly what I’m made of.
What he missed out on by walking away.
The cab stops, and I realize I’m back at the apartment. “Keep the change.” I give the cab driver a twenty and climb out, nodding hello to the doorman as I step inside the lobby. It’s all polished marble and gleaming chandeliers, with an executive elevator straight to my penthouse suite.
I unlock the door and I’m about to step inside when I notice another box waiting for me on the table in the hall.
Deep purple with a gold silk ribbon. The same elegant handwriting on the heavy cream stock card.
It’s him.
CHAPTER FIVE
I drop my purse on the floor with a thud. A lipstick rolls out across the tiles, but I can’t wait. I grab the box and hurry into the apartment, feeling a hot shiver of anticipation. My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I pull the card out.
Wear me.
I flip the card over. Again, there’s no name or address from the sender, so I turn my attention to the box.
I ease off the lid and gasp. Layers of black tissue paper reveal a stunning lingerie set in a deep, rich amethyst. It’s gorgeous: sheer lace and decadent silk, with intricate black embroidery twisting like vines and spilling over the cups. The name of a very exclusive brand is delicately embroidered along the edge.
Holy. Shit. It’s Italian, imported, and expensive as gold dust. Every piece costs more than a thousand dollars because of the hand-stitched details. For years, I've coveted one of their bras or a pair of panties, but knowing how far that money could go, how much that amount would mean to my mom, I’ve never been able to justify it.
But he gave me a full matching set.
I run my fingers over the whisper soft embroidery of poppy flowers and vines, the satin straps and demure bows. Along with the bra and matching panty is a garter belt and frothy back-seamed silk stockings.
It’s incredibly luxurious, a fantasy brought to life. Even the sizing is perfect, like he already knows exactly what will fit me.
I realize: whoever sent this not only has money, he has taste.
I’m meeting Keely for drinks, so I quickly shower and lay the lingerie out on the bed. I stroke the silk, relishing the feel of it. It’s almost too beautiful to wear.
Almost.
I start with the bra, then the garter belt. The gossamer thin silk stocking caresses my smooth leg as I roll it up to clip it in place. I slide the panties on next. They press the garter straps into my hips, a constant reminder of what I'm wearing. It feels decadent and naughty.
My underwear complete, I look at myself in the mirror. The deep jewel tone of the lingerie makes my skin look luminous, and the bra pushes my breasts up high. The garter belt hugs the curves of my hips, showing off my round ass and long legs. I feel sexy and sensuous, like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
It seems a shame to cover up such lovely underwear, but I don’t think Keely would appreciate me parading through Manhattan in my panties, so I grab my go-to dress from the closet: a navy V-neck sheath that hugs me in all the right places. I slide on flirty yellow heels for a bright pop of color and check my red lipstick in the mirror.
I feel sexy and confident. There's a power to knowing that I'm hiding a secret underneath my dress: the only hint is the black seam of my stockings running up the back of my legs.
As I’m heading for the door, my phone rings. I answer and hear a loud sneeze.
“It's not allergies,” Keely sniffles. “I have the plague.”
I feel a rush of disappointment. I was looking forward to seeing her again and telling her all about Ash.
“I feel like death,” she continues. “I'm sorry. I thought I could push through it, but there's no way,” she ends with a racking cough.
“It's OK,” I reassure her, pushing my disappointment aside. “We'll have Girls’ Night some other time when you're not coughing up a lung. What can I bring you? Soup? Medicine?” I ask.
“No. Nothing. I don't want to get you sick. I'm just going to go to bed. But you shouldn’t sit at home, go have fun without me!”
