AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But even as I dove back into the details of the divorce, Darius’s words echoed in my mind, making it nearly impossible to concentrate. I knew I needed to put him out of my head, at least for now, but it was easier said than done. The rest of the meeting passed in a blur, my thoughts constantly drifting back to Darius. His smug grin, the way his hazel eyes had burned into mine, the power he held so effortlessly.
It both infuriated and aroused me, leaving me with a desperate need to regain control. But as much as I wanted to forget about him, I knew that wouldn’t be possible. Not with the way he lingered in every corner of my mind, taunting me, daring me to give in to my desires. And despite my best efforts to resist, I couldn’t shake the feeling that eventually, I would succumb to the temptation that was Darius Ashbourne.
Chapter9
Darius
“Prick” was the only word that came to mind as I felt Weston’s presence looming behind me. The luxurious office hallway stretched out before me, leading to a row of private offices. I clenched my fists, trying to ignore the annoyance building up inside me. I was on my way to Cole’s office when I threw Weston off by making a sharp left turn. It didn’t work. Before I knew it, his hand wrapped around my arm, pushing me into his office. He slammed the door shut behind us, trapping me inside with him.
“Wrong office,” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance as he stalked toward me.
My body temperature spiked, as if responding to the suffocating scent of his cologne. It wrapped around my throat like a vise, making it difficult to breathe. He cornered me, his tall, lean frame towering over mine. A sudden fury took hold of me; I hated being backed into corners—especially by someone like him. And yet, there was something about his assertive demeanor that sent a shiver down my spine. Weston’s hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. His lips claimed mine in an aggressive, claiming kiss. He tasted like power and money, and for a moment, it was intoxicating. But I couldn’t let him win—not this easily.
“Fuck off!” I snarled, shoving him away from me with all my strength.
Our lips separated with a violent smack as our gazes locked onto each other. Hatred and desire brewed in his eyes, mirroring what I knew simmered within me as well. Gritting my teeth, I prepared for the next round of his shit.
Weston’s eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “You don’t get to walk away from me.”
“I don’t give a fuck what youwant,” I said in response, trying to match his intensity.
But he was relentless. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close as his other hand clamped over my mouth. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my earlobe as he whispered, “You should give a fuck about what I want because Ialwaysget what I want.”
I could feel his breath hot on my skin, and it made my blood boil with anger and confusion. The tight grip of his hand on my waist only added fuel to the fire burning inside me. With a surge of adrenaline, I grabbed hold of Weston’s tie, yanking him forward until our noses were mere inches apart.
“No,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “youusedto always get what you want. But you’re not fucking calling the shots anymore.”
In one swift motion, I pulled out my phone and showed him the nightmare photo that someone had sent to me two weeks ago, reminding him. I let my lips graze the shell of his ear as I whispered, “I can’t wait to make you my bitch.”
The shock was evident in his eyes, momentarily wiping away the arrogance that usually filled them. That brief flicker of vulnerability thrilled me—an unexpected sign that maybe, just maybe, I could break through his defenses and finally gain the upper hand in this game we seemed to play.
The sudden knock on the door snapped me back to reality, and I released Weston’s tie, stepping away from him. I didn’t bother glancing back as I opened the door, finding James standing there with an expectant look on his face.
“Hey, you wanna get some food or something or…” His eyes sliced from me to Weston.
“Sure, why the fuck not?” I said, my tone flat.
Without another word, I walked out of Weston’s office, leaving him behind to stew in whatever emotions I’d just stirred up. James fell into step beside me, and we headed down the street toward some high-end lunch spot. I couldn’t fucking stand these uppity places. They were all that surrounded the office, catering to the self-important assholes who thought their money made them special. Given the choice, I’d opt for a bar filled with sweaty bodies and drugs over dining with people who had sticks jammed so far up their asses, they could taste the splinters.
As we walked, James tried to engage me in conversation, but my mind was on Weston and the things I wanted to do to him. I knew I couldn’t fight the feelings I had for him, even with the damning evidence of what he and my father had done long ago. But that didn’t mean I was going to make it easy for him—or myself.
“How long are you working at the law firm?” James asked, attempting to draw me into conversation.
“Uh-huh,” I muttered, barely acknowledging him. My pulse still raced from my confrontation with Weston, and the heat of our bodies pressed close together still lingered on my skin.
“Are you okay?” James prodded, concern lacing his voice.
But I didn’t want his pity or his curiosity; I just wanted to focus on the storm of emotions churning inside me.
“Yup,” I snapped, cutting off any further attempts at conversation. I shoved my hands into my pockets, replaying the feeling of Weston’s lips against mine and the intoxicating mix of anger and desire that had surged through me.
As we reached the restaurant, the upscale facade only reminded me of the world Weston inhabited. A world I was determined to tear apart and rebuild on my own terms. The game had just begun, and I couldn’t wait to see who would come out on top. The dim lighting and hushed conversations did little to ease my irritation as we slipped into a booth near the back of the restaurant. Surrounded by men in suits having late lunches and talking shop, I couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the high-strung assholes who filled the room.
“Fuck it,” I muttered, scanning the menu for the most expensive thing I could find. I smirked at the thought of putting the bill on Weston’s card, as if to remind him he didn’t own me. “I’ll take the surf and turf with a glass of your finest scotch.”
James raised an eyebrow at my order but didn’t comment. Instead, he leaned in conspiratorially, his voice low and cautious. “Hey, Darius, you know where to get some coke?”
I rolled my eyes, immediately suspicious. “Why the fuck would I know that?”
