Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

  “New client I want to talk about later, once my assistant gathers some more information when she gets here,” Bull grunts from my doorway.

  I wave him in. “Close the door.”

  His brows furrow together as he shuts the door and stalks over to the chair in front of my desk. Violet isn’t due for another half hour. I left her house early this morning upon her demand. She was back to her fierce self and promised she’d shoot anything that came through her door.

  The only reason I left her was because it wasn’t Vaughn who had been in her house. It was me. I’d been rifling through one of her other closets when I heard her voice. She didn’t rouse when I slipped into her apartment. She didn’t wake when I undressed her. And she didn’t wake when I rubbed her pussy while I jerked off. Again. It was like the night before. Until it wasn’t.

  I’d almost been caught.

  “What is it?” Bull asks.

  “She almost caught me.”

  His features darken. “Under her bed?”

  “I was looking through her front room closet. She thought it was Vaughn, her ex. Apparently, he was quite a psycho,” I growl.

  Bull laughs. “She really knows how to pick ‘em.”

  I flip him off. “Fuck you. I’ve already called the locksmith to change her locks out, but, man, she was terrified. I want you to call Dusty and have him see what he can drum up on Vaughn Brecks. Everything, no matter how big or small. I want to find this fuck.”

  All humor is wiped from Bull’s face. We only call our ex-military buddy, Dusty, for emergencies when we need info on a big client. This is a fucking emergency.

  “You’re taking shit far,” he says with a groan and tugs at the knot on his tie.

  “I know. I want her. I want all of her. We have a connection. Both conscious and subconscious. Her body responds to mine. We belong together,” I clip out.

  His eyes regard me almost sadly for a moment before he shakes away the look. “Fine. I’ll check it out. Be careful.”

  I nod and then let out a heavy breath. “I also want you to shake down every sick fuck who has put his hands on Violet and bring them to me.”

  His eyes widen. “Like her entire life?”

  I growl. “Here.”

  He clenches his jaw and nods. “I have a couple of names right off the top of my head. I’ll get you a list starting with our VP, Brent Adams.”

  “I want him gone. And the fact that there is a ‘list’ has me wanting to go fucking postal,” I seethe, my hands fisting tight. Who the fuck is Brent Adams, anyway?

  “I’ve mentioned it to you before but—”

  I glare at him. “What?”

  “Do you remember when I fired, Jack Langston?”

  The name rings absolutely no bells.

  “He only worked here for three years,” he tries.

  I shrug. “Don’t know him.”

  “Well, I saw him slap Letty’s ass once in the break room, so I canned him. To save her from embarrassment, I told the employees he got a job elsewhere.”

  “Her name is Violet,” I growl.

  He holds his hands up in defense. “Fine. Violet. Anyway, Truman replaced him but apparently, Clint hires shitty guys because he’s number one on the list right beside Brent Adams.”

  I slam my fist on the mahogany desk and glare. “I want Adams and Truman gone. But not before I talk to them.”

  Bull’s eyebrow lifts and he smirks. “You can’t kick their asses.”

  “No, but I can scare the shit out of the little pricks.”

  He sighs and stands up. “I guess it’s high time we cleaned house around here.”

  “We have eleven days to make her stay,” I tell him, my mind whirring with ways to make that happen. I’ll be goddamned if I let her go to Slante who is no better than Adams or Truman or any of these other fuckers.

  “What if she doesn’t want to stay?” he challenges.

  My nostrils flare. “That’s just not a fucking option, man.”

  AFTER I PLACE an order to the flower company, I start a little recon on my own. I start with Facebook first. I sift through her friends list looking for connections and cross-reference most of them as women who work for me and their friends. Nobody traces back to the town where her mother works. I’d looked up the diner name on the paper I found in her closet. My Violet is far from home.

  Vaughn Brecks doesn’t come up on Facebook but he does have a rap sheet a mile fucking long. Mostly for drugs, assault and battery, and pimping and pandering. My blood pressure rises as I wonder if he pimped Violet out. The thought makes me borderline fucking crazy. I’m going to find this guy and make him bleed.

  Unfortunately, he’s not showing up anywhere when I try to hunt him down. No addresses. No legal jobs. Nothing. And he isn’t dead because there isn’t any record of that either. He’s flying low under the radar.

  But now that I have my sights on him, I’ll find him. I’ll put my crosshairs on his motherfucking head and blow his brains from here to Connecticut.

  After I send an email to Dusty with what little info I have, I check on an Amazon order I placed this weekend while I was chilling under Violet’s bed. I have a surprise coming in today that I paid expedited shipping for.

  Now that she’s practically mine, I want to shower her with everything. Love. Attention. Gifts. Cum.

  People start filing in. Normally I don’t notice them but today I have my door open. I’m waiting for her. It’s been just an hour since I’ve last seen her, and I’m going nuts. This weekend she was semi-casual and I’m dying to see her in some sexy office attire. Goddamn, I need this woman.

  My ears perk up when I hear the name Truman outside my door. A douchebag-looking motherfucker stops to talk to Clint from HR. They chuckle and discuss last night’s game. When a woman walks by, Truman’s narrowed gaze follows her ass.

  Rage bubbles up inside me.

  Violet was right. This place is crawling with sexist pigs. Because of me. Had I laid down the law in the beginning, these assholes would know how to act. But since they know they can get away with this shit—because human resources clearly doesn’t have a fucking issue—they continue to abuse the situation and my female staff.

  They abuse my Violet.

  I stand from my chair and fist my hands.

  Bull is going to gather the men and we’ll have a big fucking meeting later this afternoon. Until then, I need to let Truman feel my fury. I stalk out into the hallway. His gaze turns from leering to friendly as he regards me.

  “Mr. Maxwell,” he greets with a grin.

  Clint turns and stares at me, shock in his eyes. “Sir.”

  I tilt my head to the side and size up Truman. Clint is a pussy because he murmurs that he has work to do and retreats. Truman, the dumbass, opens his mouth like we’re fucking chums.

  We. Are. Not. Fucking. Chums.

  “I need coffee,” I clip out, my voice short but calm.

  He frowns at me in confusion. “What?”

  “I need coffee,” I repeat, stepping into his personal space. “I need coffee now.”

  His stupid beady eyes dart over to Violet’s empty desk. Before he can open his mouth and say something stupid, I growl startling him.

  “I need you to make my coffee. You, Truman.”

  A flash of anger flickers in his eyes. “Don’t we have people for that?”

  “Two scoops of sugar. One scoop of creamer,” I seethe, my chest bumping against his. “And don’t forget a dash of cinnamon.”

  His jaw clenches as his eyes challenge me. I fucking dare him to challenge me. Finally, he bites back his reply. “You got it, boss.”

  He storms into the kitchen and starts slamming shit around. A smile tugs at my lips but it turns full blown when I hear the clack of heels. I jerk my gaze to see my gorgeous, confident woman striding into the office. Her long, brown hair is like pure silk hanging in front of her perky breasts. She’s paid a lot of attention to her makeup today because it’s perfect—like she’s headed for
a photo shoot at a magazine, not work. My gaze roams down her sexy little body. Today, she wears a white button-up blouse that hugs her round tits and is tucked into a slate grey pencil skirt that seems a tad shorter than the one she wore Friday. I drag my eyes along her long legs to a pair of snakeskin stilettos in the same shade as her skirt. When I finally find her eyes again, she’s smiling.

  Goddamn, she’s beautiful.

  “Did you need something?” she asks with an arched dark eyebrow. “Coffee perhaps?” The challenge in her voice gets my dick hard.

  “You don’t make coffee anymore,” I growl as I prowl toward her. Panic briefly crosses her features, almost as if she fears she’s in trouble. She’s in trouble for not giving me her pretty pussy last night. But I’ll punish her later with my tongue. As far as this job goes, she’s doing much more than I ever realized. I quickly analyzed the data she collected on the Collins property, and it helped me with some decisions that needed making. Violet is smart—too smart to be making coffee and answering the phone. And as if a light bulb goes off in my head, I know what I’ll do. Later. It is the answer to a lot of my problems.

  “Gray,” she murmurs when I near. Her brown eyes do their own little field trip down my body. I’d worn one of my expensive suits to impress her. It fits well and shows off my build. I need to drive her just as fucking crazy as she drives me.

  “You look good, little quitter,” I say with a lopsided grin.

  She laughs and waves me off as she starts for her desk. “Back at ya, Gray.”

  Pride fills my chest as I follow her. The skirt hugs her ass perfectly. My fingers twitch to grab the hem and slide it up to her hips so I can see which panties she’s wearing. I’ve pulled them all out of her drawers and inspected them. I have my favorites—favorites that I didn’t steal for my own personal Violet souvenir collection in hopes that I’d get to see her in them one day.

  “What is this?” she asks suddenly, drawing me from my thoughts.

  “Mmmm?”

  She snaps around and glares at me. Her pert nose flares with anger. I bite the inside corner of my lip as I stare at her pouty parted lips. God, I need those lips like I need air. They tasted like sweet honey when we kissed last night—

  “Gray,” she hisses. “Focus.”

  Focus.

  Focus.

  My eyes are on hers.

  Locked.

  She’s in my sights.

  And I’m coming straight for her.

  I’ll obliterate her heart.

  She’s my target and I’m the motherfucking bullet.

  Mine to pierce and lodge myself into.

  “Gray.” Her voice is softer this time. Those dark brows are no longer furled in anger. They pinch together in concern. “Why did you buy me a chair? I thought this was for you.”

  I flash her a smug grin. “You practically fell asleep in it. Why do you think I had you test it out? Just don’t go falling asleep on the job. My methods for waking you up are…” I scratch at my jaw with my finger and narrow my gaze at her as I lick my bottom lip. “Unconventional. Probably illegal.”

  Embarrassment paints her cheeks and throat as her eyes quickly dart around to make sure nobody heard. I simply shrug. Who’s going to tell on me? I’m the fucking owner.

  “Gray,” she murmurs, her voice thick with an emotion I want. Something that my ears equate to need and lust. I want to bathe in the way she says my name. “I’ll be leaving in less than two weeks. You shouldn’t have bought me a chair.”

  As if cold water splashes me awake, I jolt at her words. “Nonsense. The chair you had was crap. You deserve it.”

  Her cheeks turn slightly pink as she sets her purse down on the desk. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I did,” I challenge in a low tone.

  She flashes me a smile that makes my heart nearly thud out of my chest. When she sits down and leans back, she lets out a sigh of approval. “Okay, so maybe you should have like six years ago.”

  I smirk and sit down on the edge of her desk. “After you get situated this morning, we’re having a meeting.”

  Her brows crash together as she frowns, and I instantly hate the loss of her smile. “What sort of meeting?”

  “One that’s long overdue,” I tell her with a sigh.

  “Sir,” Truman grits out as he approaches carrying a steaming mug of coffee. “As requested.”

  I don’t miss the slight intake of air from Violet. Pride fills my chest that I’m already making changes that will make her happier. And making this dipshit do menial tasks will make her fucking giddy.

  “Thanks,” I grumble as I accept the coffee. I take a sip and it kind of sucks but at least she didn’t have to make it. “Oh…”

  Annoyance flits in his eyes but he wisely clenches his jaw to keep those words locked up tight. “Yeah?”

  “Violet needs coffee this morning too.”

  His nostrils flare as he regards her. “How would you like your coffee?”

  She sits up and leans forward plastering on a bitchy smile I’ve never seen before. “I take Splenda in my coffee, sugar.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. I know for a fact she doesn’t take her coffee that way, but something tells me she’s saying something that is intended to piss him off. And, boy, does it work like a charm. He lets out an angry huff and storms away.

  Her smile turns into a beautiful one I’m familiar with and her brown eyes glitter with triumph. I love this look on her perfect face.

  “Let me guess,” I say, my eyes lingering on her pouty lips I’m desperate to nibble on. “Truman likes Splenda in his coffee.”

  She laughs, the sound reverberating its way straight to my cock. “He’s an asshole. Serves him right.”

  “You let me know if he so much as gives you a funny look,” I tell her in a firm tone. “I want to know everything.”

  Relief morphs her features and it once again makes me feel like a fucking blind prick. She’s been dealing with this shit for six long years. I could have stopped it. All I had to do was notice…

  “I’ll be in my office. Come see me when you’re settled,” I instruct before stalking unwillingly away from her.

  “YOUR MOTHER WANTS you to stay with her so she can look after you,” my father says from in front of the hospital window. His arms are folded across his chest and he refuses to look at me.

  “Dad,” I grunt, wincing at the never-ending fire that seems to rip across my back each time I move, despite the fact I’ve been here for weeks recovering. “I can’t go there. You know I can’t.”

  He turns, a heavy sigh on his lips, and regards me with disdain flickering in his eyes. It’s a direct blow to my heart. No matter how hard I’ve tried to become my father—to fucking please him—it’s never enough. I’m never enough.

  “Well, I sure as hell don’t have the time to take care of an invalid,” he snarls, his normally cool features screwed up in anger.

  An ache forms in my chest but I ignore it. “We can hire a nurse. Please don’t make me stay there. You’re never there anymore and—”

  “Because I have to work my ass off to provide for this ungrateful family!” he roars.

  I blink at him in shock. My newest nurse, Sasha, peeks her head in and asks if I’m okay. Once she’s gone, I glare at my father. “She’s not ungrateful,” I hiss. “She’s sick. You need to call a therapist.”

  He huffs and shakes his head. “Your mother isn’t sick. She’s just a shopaholic and she babies you kids. It’s not a sickness, it’s a personality flaw.”

  I tremble as if I’ve been struck by him. “She loves us. Last time I checked, loving your children and husband wasn’t a personality flaw. It’s called ‘normal.’ But what isn’t normal is you staying in the city all the time. Gwen doesn’t understand.”

  Guilt flashes in his eyes for a brief moment. My baby sister just turned five and is sickly. Mom tries to say it’s something to do with her body but my father always argues that it’s my mother’s filthy housekeeping
that’s making her sick. Regardless, nobody has discovered yet what it is that’s making her ill.

  “Gwen is just a girl. She doesn’t understand these things,” he grits out.

  “But I’m not. You don’t explain anything. Why won’t you come home to them?”

  His lip curls up slightly. “I already told you. My company is in the city. It’s time-consuming. I don’t have time to run home at every turn and take care of them. I’m able to take care of them financially so that’s what I do. Your mother doesn’t need a therapist, she just needs her own space.”

  “Dad, it’s a cop out,” I snap.

  He glares as he storms over to me, his finger wagging in my face. “Don’t come at me acting like you know everything, Grayson. I’ve been married to that woman for over two decades. Trust me when I say it works better this way. She can do…she can buy…she can collect whatever the hell she wants, and I can work. We stay out of each other’s hair and everyone is happy. Nobody needs fucking therapy.”

  I stare up at him in disbelief. How can he even convince himself that all but abandoning Mom and Gwen is okay? Mom’s becoming more and more obsessed lately with online shopping. She buys all these things to make Gwen happy. Together, they pick stuff out online and act so fucking happy when shit comes in the mail. But it’s weird. It’s not normal. And it’s starting to collect.

  “We’re a family,” I murmur. “We’re supposed to stick together.”

  He growls. “You’re a grown man now. Discharged from the military due to your injuries, sure, but you have a bright future ahead of you that doesn’t have to involve the military. You’re smart and you’ll continue your education. I did what I could to set you down the right path. Gwen is your mother’s problem. They’re too much alike. I’ll never know how to handle that little girl. It’s high time you accept they’re happier just the two of them and eventually move on with your own life.”

  “A life that doesn’t involve you,” I clarify, my voice shaking with anger. “You want Mom to nurse me back to health only for me to abandon them just like you did once I’m well? Just making sure that’s what you want me to fucking do, Dad. Will that make you proud? A chip off the old block—”