Bring on the Psychobitch (Some Girls Do It Book 3)

by May Sage

  Bring On the Psychobitch

  Some Girls Do It Book Three

  May Sage

  Illustrated by Desiree Deorto

  Edited by Tracy Vincent

  Edited by Lisa Bring

  Madam’s Books

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  1. Lucy

  2. Lucy

  3. Trick

  4. Lucy

  5. Trick

  6. Lucy

  7. Trick

  8. Lucy

  9. Trick

  10. Lucy

  11. Trick

  12. Lucy

  13. Trick

  14. Lucy

  15. Trick

  16. Lucy

  17. Trick

  18. Lucy

  19. Trick

  20. Lucy

  21. Trick

  Epilogue

  NOTE FROM MAY

  Other Stuff

  Day Job

  Little Morning Star

  The Playgirls

  Copyright © 2016 May Sage

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by Desiree DeOrto

  Edited by Tracy Vincent and Lisa Bing

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  This one is for my ass of an ex who was uncharacteristically wise and eloquent, when he – rightfully so – called me a Psychobitch.

  Lucy

  Six years ago.

  Lucy had taken a lot of care with her outfit - she’d gotten the job of her dreams already, but she needed everyone to understand just how badass she was going to be.

  It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she would be working alongside a god. Nope. Not even a little bit. She hadn’t thought of Patrick Johnson at all, when she’d picked her dress; a perfectly acceptable, almost conservative smoky gray A-line that said “I am the most efficient employee you'll ever seen, but hey, I’m also super sexy.”

  Okay, blatant lie, she’d totally dressed to impress - and impress him in particular - but who could judge her? Patrick was…

  She sighed dreamily, because right then, when she was trying to put the impossible into words, he passed by the little rectangular desk in front of her boss’s office.

  Yes, he was that. Six foot three of perfectly sculpted muscles barely concealed under his crisp tailor-made suit, short chestnut hair styled like Superman’s and those deep dark eyes, behind a pair of glasses. So, okay, he might kind of look a little geeky around the edges, but it suited him; besides, it wasn’t his lickable physique she was inexorably drawn to. Or not only, in any case.

  Patrick Johnson was Trick. The Trick. That didn’t mean much to those who called him by that nickname now, but Lucy knew how he’d earned it; and she also knew what kind of a man he was, inherently. He’d proven himself a long time ago.

  She’d been pretty lonely back in her high-school days, freshman year, as the one and only scholarship kid in a prestigious private school; she’d never worn the right thing, her slang wasn’t anything like theirs, but he hadn’t cared. She’d beaten him at chess, and that had been enough as far as he was concerned; the cool senior had let her tag along with him - or rather, follow him around like a very chubby, frizzy haired, and hopefully endearing lost puppy.

  When he’d left the following year, she’d thought she’d be back to square one, but apparently, being a friend of Trick’s had changed her social standing. Things might have gone very differently for her, if the young boy he had been hadn’t seen something worth knowing, all those years ago. The rich, popular, and gorgeous Piper Stone wouldn’t have known her name and spoken to her in algebra. She wouldn’t have let her use her wardrobe, or have introduced her to lip gloss. More importantly, she wouldn’t have called her daddy and convinced the man to give Lucy the best lawyer money could buy when she’d ended up behind bars - which means that instead of being a mildly unstable, but nonetheless, functioning member of society, she would probably still be rotting in jail.

  So… yes. She owed Trick - more than he’d ever know.

  Still, she didn’t admire him only because he’d felt sorry for a kid a dozen years ago; the guy was also a genius. The year before they’d met, he’d hacked into the FBI’s archives for kicks - as he’d been a minor at the time, he’d gotten away with a slap on the wrist, but apparently, the feds had also kept him on their books in case they needed help. The talk was that the agent he was in touch with had been the one who’d so becomingly shortened his name to Trick.

  Yeah… swoon. She was happy to leave bad boys and jocks to other women; she’d take a smart guy any day.

  As the man turned to her, and appraised her in a quick glance, Lucy wasn’t surprised that no recognition lightened his gaze. She’d changed since then - just a little. No more frizzy hair. No more braces. She filled in a 32E rather than a training bra - and her clothes didn’t come from thrift stores.

  Then again, she couldn’t help a teeny, tiny little smidgen of disappointment, because while his transformation hadn’t quite been the Ugly Duckling thing she’d underdone, he was also pretty different. Her youthful crush had been a pretty boy; the guy in front of her was all man. Yet, there was no way - not a chance in hell - that she might have crossed his path in the street without exactly knowing who he was; even if she hadn’t followed his accomplishments from afar like a stalker.

  “Good morning,” he said pleasantly.

  Holy fucking shit, where did that come from? The looks, she’d expected, thanks to Page Six, but the voice…

  The Trick she’d known most certainly hadn’t sounded like that. The deep, suave voice shot right through her clothes, setting her core on fire. Oh, goodie, she thought, biting her bottom lip. She was going to have to put a dozen pairs of panties in her handbag to get through each day.

  “You’re new.”

  That wasn’t a question, but she nodded, and finally found her voice, “Yes, I’m Mr. Harris’ assistant.”

  His eyes opened wide in obvious surprise, although she kind of was standing behind the assistant’s desk.

  “Permanently?” he asked, and she nodded again.

  Trick frowned, saying, “Interesting,” before strolling past her, and into the CEO’s office.

  Lucy wasn’t quite familiar with the dynamic of the office yet, but from what she’d read on their website, the CEO, Carter Harris, and the CFO, Trick, were two close friends; still, she frowned, pretty sure she was supposed to announce any visitor first; they weren’t supposed to just barge in.

  Trick closed the door behind him, but as he walked away, Lucy saw it slowly open again.

  She walked around her desk, and went to close it, intending to give the two executives the privacy they needed, but just as she took the handle, she heard the suave, electrifying voice say something…

  Something she would never, ever forget. Something that opened her eyes and killed what was left of her innocence.

  “Really, Carter? That’s the assistant you picked? We said you’d get the best person for the job, not a stupid playboy bunny.”

  She wasn’t certain how long she stood there, frozen in shock. Probably not as long as it felt, because she’d regained her senses when the reply came, “Lucinda is the best person for the job. Stop being a judgmental prick for two seconds and let’s get to work.”

  Lucy blinked, and felt her lips curve up.

  Damn straight. She was the best person for the stupid job, and at least, Carter knew it.

  This was good. Great in fact. Being intimidated by that guy was out of character, and she’d felt weird all morning; now she knew he was just another sexist loser.

  But her boss? Well,
he’d just won himself a psychobitch’s loyalty.

  Lucy

  Now.

  The Halloween party was highlighting all the reasons why she’d never leave Harris Toys. Executive office parties, by definition, were supposed to suck, or at the very least, be boring and awkward, because who let their hair down in front of the CEO?

  The employees of Carter Harris, that’s who. The boss had just bought everyone a round of shots, before partaking in a beer drinking competition. He won hands down, downing the whole pint in three gulps.

  “Just so you know,” she couldn’t help saying, “you may be ahead this year, but that’s only because I’m not competing.”

  Almost everyone around the bar nodded, knowing full well that she was the only true master here. She’d won every other year. But Carter being Carter, he couldn’t help teasing her.

  “All talk, aren’t you?” he said, wrapping his arm around his adorable, and constantly blushing future bride, before kissing her forehead. “Prove it.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes - at the challenge, as well as the disgustingly sweet display of affection. Carter and Cassie were so cliché she might have gagged; but she tolerated it, because she happened to like the girl. She would never admit it in front of Carter, but she was eagerly waiting on the side lines, wanting to soak in every detail of what was happening in their little alternative universe.

  It wasn’t every day that you witnessed a perfectly sane, well-rounded guy embracing madness: Carter had dated Cassie for weeks, but he was already planning on popping the question sometime soon. Like, really soon. This year kind of soon. He’d asked Lucy if she wanted to accompany him to help him pick a ring the following week.

  After weeks of dating.

  “I’m working,” she reminded him, rolling her eyes.

  “Well, stop it. You should listen to me, I’m the boss.”

  Lucy opened her mouth to formulate some sort of reply, but just then, the hair at the back of her neck stood to attention and she didn't have to turn around to know who had walked in.

  Patrick Fucking Johnson, with the insipid flavor of the week, no doubt. She decided to do what she always did best: ignore his existence.

  Knowing that her nemesis would soon converge on Carter, she turned towards Cassie, and asked, “So, when is your notice going to be over?”

  Lucy had taken it in a stride when Carter had told her his shy girlfriend was writing romance books, but she wasn’t going to lie: when she’d opened one of her books and read the word cock in chapter one, she’d been taken aback, struggling to come to terms with the fact that the innocent, youthful blonde with the sweetest smile wrote one handed reads.

  Plus, they also were good one handed reads. She’d devoured her three books in one night, using B.O.B a time or two.

  “Carter got me off the hook. I’ve cleaned up what I had on my schedule this week, but that’s it - I’m officially a full-time author.”

  Lucy held her hand up, high-fiving her. She did love seeing women taking life by the balls like that. Not enough of them did it.

  “So, what are you working on now?” she asked, ignoring that feeling.

  Trick was close. She fucking felt him, smelled him. She had no clue how or why but she could always tell. Right on clue, his deep voice got her nipple’s attention. It was annoying as fuck, but at least, she’d learned to hide her reaction. Padded bras helped, too.

  “I see I’ve missed the first rounds.”

  Thankfully, she’d picked the best distraction ever: Cassie completely captured her attention, drowning out everything else when she replied, “A BDSM kinda thing. The girl thought she was vanilla but turns out, she really likes spanking. Bondage, too. I’m doing rewrites - Carter’s helping me getting it right.”

  Lucy stared, open-mouthed. She wasn’t easily startled but if she wasn’t mistaken, Cassie had just told her Carter fucked her kinky in the name of research.

  Well, that explained why he was in such a hurry to put a ring on it. Maybe the man wasn’t that insane after all.

  “Shall we sit?” Carter asked, leading Cassie away without waiting for a reply.

  Great idea, because without turning her head his way, she saw a hulking figure follow them away, and her limbs stopped tensing. Patrick was going with them. She breathed out, and moved closer to the rest of the employees around the bar, but she didn’t even get one word in.

  “Lucy!”

  Dammit. She turned towards Cassie, who was waving at her from the VIP booth set up at the back of the venue.

  “Don’t leave me alone with those two!” the woman yelled over the music, shooting her a pleasing look, and pouting for good measure.

  Trying to make her grimace less obvious, she sighed and dragged her heels, seeing no way to refuse without seeming terribly rude; also, she didn’t hide her dislike for Patrick - but she liked to convey the extent of her indifference whenever they had to interact. If she purposefully avoided him without a reason that didn’t sound like an excuse, he might know he got to her.

  Bleh. The universe hated her guts, apparently.

  Lucy made it to the booth, inwardly cursing, outwardly smiling, at least until she saw that the couple was, of course, seated side by side. That meant she had to take a place next to the CFO.

  The man shifted a little to leave her some room, but damn, they were close. Far too close.

  She tried to concentrate on what Cassie had to say, she really did, but unfortunately the woman was done talking about bondage, so despite her best efforts, her attention was entirely focused on the guy’s conversation.

  Double groan.

  "Flying solo tonight?"

  "Dearest mother was starting to talk about hand stitching Sophia's initials with mine on the linen, so yes. It was time to bail.”

  It took just about every ounce of her restraint, but Lucy somehow managed not to roll her eyes at that.

  "I'm sure she'll find you a replacement promptly enough, don't despair."

  Okay, she had to give up pretending that she wasn’t paying attention, exchanging a smirk with Cassie.

  She hadn’t believed it at first, assuming that it was some sort of a joke, but the attractive, grown-ass man whose warmth she could feel next to her really let his mother pick his dates. That confused and astounded her; it should have revoked at least half of his man points, but she had to admit that the fact that she wasn’t on his radar only made him more fascinating. Unattainable. It was like triple fudge chocolate cake when you didn’t fit into your tightest pair of jeans: irresistible and baaaaad for you.

  Lucy was great at restraining herself, though. Every time she took in the way his chestnut hair sometimes curved a little at the end when he needed a haircut, or the smile that crooked on the left side when he spoke to Carter, she recalled it quite clearly.

  Stupid playboy bunny.

  He was nothing more or less than a judgmental, sexist asshole; one who hid it well in public, using just the right words when he knew people paid attention - but she’d heard what ran behind the brown eyes first-hand, and sure, it might have been half a dozen years ago, but she wasn’t about to let it go. That simple sentence had shaped her more than anything else in her adult life.

  Just then, the man started to do what he excelled at, adopting his suave, charming demeanor and turning to Cassie first.

  “Cassandra, I don’t believe I’ve mentioned how ravishing you look yet,” he told his best friend’s girlfriend.

  From the corner of her eyes, Lucy saw him move a few inches to face her, next. She was good at ignoring, and concealing the effect that his gaze had on her body, but each time she had to, it was torture.

  “And I hope you’re having a good evening, Lucinda,” he said pleasantly.

  A way back, he’d called her Lucy - once. She hadn’t said anything, but her gazed must have made her feeling about it clear, because he’d stuck to Lucinda since.

  Damn straight. Nicknames were for friends - and god knew Patrick Johnson was no friend of
hers.

  Not anymore.

  Trick

  “So, another one bites the dust, hm?” Carter asked, barely masking his amusement.

  It wasn’t without some effort that Trick managed to pull his eyes away from the painfully gorgeous redhead in her angel costume, as she purposefully ignored him, but Carter’s question got his attention. No point in asking what he was referring to.

  He’d had to let go of his assistant the previous day.

  Again.

  Trick turned to his friend, groaning, and swearing, “If I get another assistant shoving her tits in my face to catch her pen, I swear I’m gonna quit.”

  That was, of course, a complete and utter lie. Trick would never work anywhere but at Harris Toys - the company was his baby as much as Carter’s. The engineer might be the genius behind their inventory of cool toys, but he was the reason why their little venture had risen to its place in the Forbes list - and stayed there.

  Trick had entirely funded their start up, and he owned forty eight percent of the company, just like Carter. The last four percent was held in trust by his little brother, because on a particularly imbibed night, they’d said that whichever one of them got married first would give the remaining shares to his wife; which meant that whichever one of them got hitched before the other would hold a majority share. Unfortunately, they’d come up with that ridiculous bet when Finn had been around, and his idiot of a brother had drafted a contract they’d both signed.

  There should be a law about doing anything legally binding while drunk - but if that was the case, Vegas wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining.

  Frankly, Trick had genuinely believed he’d win that friendly race without even trying; Carter didn’t even date, while his mother was constantly forcing a potential Mrs. Johnson on him; and he wasn’t entirely reluctant to being caught. Being a bachelor had no value for a businessman in his thirties.