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And with whom.
One of these days, I swear, I’ll banish that expression for good, leaving nothing but lazy satisfaction in its place.
She modestly brings the sheets around her. “I’m going to go take a shower,” she says, flushed and gorgeous.
I’m tempted to join her, and fuck her right into another screaming orgasm, but my cellphone buzzes on the desk.
“Go ahead,” I tell her, lazily getting to my feet—and sending her back to her room with a slap on her bare ass. “I’ll see you downstairs, and we can head to dinner.”
“Don’t think I’m not keeping score,” she tells me playfully from the doorway.
“Of your orgasms?”
“No,” she grins. “Your work calls. We had a deal, remember?”
I wince. “I know. But some things can’t wait.”
She leaves me in peace, and I reluctantly answer the call. I should have known my plan to leave London behind wouldn’t last for long.
When you’re running an empire like mine, there’s always something demanding attention.
“What?” I bark, answering. It’s one of my executives, sounding nervous. As he should. “This better be important.”
“I’m sorry,” he blurts. “It’s just… You said you wanted to hear it in person. When the Dunleavey deal closed.”
I exhale, relaxing. “It’s all finalized?”
“Yes, the lawyers just signed off. It’s done.”
“Good.”
I told them to fast-track everything, but still, it’s moved faster than I anticipated. The old man didn’t put up much of a fight, which surprises me, considering how important it was to him that the company remain a family business.
He probably knows better than to delay the inevitable. Plus, I added a few sweeteners to the deal, which means none of his board would stand in my way.
“Should we move ahead to phase B?” my exec asks, eager. “We can get the announcement about the layoffs out first thing Monday.”
Ah yes, the layoffs. I always knew I’d be stripping Dunleavey for parts. The company has valuable dockside real estate, and an excellent transport network, and nothing much else besides. I’ve already got a dozen hungry bidders for the raw components, and the workforce isn’t part of the deal.
Still, I find myself pausing. Avery was furious when she’d heard my plans.‘Those are people’s lives,’she’d said angrily.‘How can you treat them like that?’
“Is there a change of plans?” my exec asks, reading into my silence. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
“It was. It is,” I correct myself, pushing aside the unwelcome sense of guilt. “Go ahead with the schedule. And don’t disturb me again.”
I hang up, rattled. I don’t think twice when it comes to my business decisions, and certainly not out of some misplaced sense of loyalty. The bottom line is all that counts.
So why the hesitation this time?
Avery.
The answer is down the hallway, singing in the shower. Her voice drifts out on the evening breeze, lilting and sweet.
Almost like love…
I tense, shocked by the thought. She’s gotten under my skin. Avery is an obsession, to be sure, but is there more to it than that?
I think about the way it feels to watch her light up—over a beautiful view, or a fine meal, or just a word of praise. How her happiness is addictive to me, and her pleasure even more of a prize.
