“Yeah. I love to bang all night long. All night long,” he said with a wink. Before I could answer, he walked past me and into the kitchen. “Come on then, Abby.” He stopped in the entryway and turned back and looked at me. “I told your dad I’d help set the table, so don’t make me look even better than I already do by not doing anything.”
I pressed my lips together. His blue eyes were laughing at me, mocking me. And all I wanted to do was run up to him and kiss him hard. I hated having this reaction to him. I hated that he was so darn sexy, but there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do about him. He was such a jerk and an asshole. But he was so hot and I had a feeling that if we were to ever bang, it would be the most explosive, melodramatic, crazy bang that I’d ever had in my life.
Chapter 17
Dylan
* * *
I sat back in the lounge chair watching as Abby interacted with her parents. We were getting ready to leave, and she was so easy with them. I suppose this is what it was like in normal families between parents and children. I hadn’t had much exposure to a family that was happy before. I’d never had a mother or a father to call my own. I didn’t feel sorry for myself; it was just the way things were, and it was the reason why I was a billionaire now. I was successful because of the fact that I had no one. That I had to look after my brother. That I’d had to make sure that we made it. I was strong because of that.
“Dad, I have to go now. We have to work,” Abby said as her dad tried to convince her to have some more dessert. I withheld a smile as her father kept pressing a pastry called a pine tart into her hand.
“Well, then take it for the road,” he said in his British West Indian accent. It was quite melodic and unusual to my ears. Having lived in America my entire life, I hadn’t heard many British West Indian accents. He sounded charming and old-world.
And Abby’s mother, well, her mother was the mother of dreams. A beautiful older woman with a soft English accent and big vibrant blue eyes. She looked nothing like Abby; more like an English rose from a period drama set in England. But I suppose Abby was a good mix of both of her parents. Her father being tall and dark, and her mother shorter and fairer. And then there was Abby in between. Not too tall, not too short, beautiful smile, vibrant eyes, and long dark hair.
She was saying something to her father now, but I wasn’t paying attention. I just liked the interaction. I’d enjoyed being here for this lunch. The food had been delicious, better than any five-star restaurant, and I’d loved listening to Abby’s parents talk about their time in England, and moving over to the States, and Abby’s childhood. Her father had tried to bring out some old photographs, which I would’ve loved to have seen, but Abby had stopped him. She hadn’t thought it was professional that I should see them as I was her boss. I wondered, though, if she would’ve wanted me to see them if I was here as her boyfriend. I wondered how many boyfriends she’d brought home, and if her parents had loved them, approved of them, wanted her to marry them. Or if she’d wanted to marry them.
I realized then that I didn’t really know anything about her love life. I didn’t really know anything about her at all. Except for the fact that she was quick-witted, and fiery, and had a great sense of humor. That she dressed like a mousey librarian for work, and even today she looked like a bum, but she was beautiful even when she tried to not be. The way her light brown eyes lit up, the way her pink lips curved so easily into a smile, the way her breasts pressed against the fabric of every outfit that she wore. Her curves—oh, her curves! They drove me crazy, and her long legs, too.
I was fast becoming infatuated with Abby. There was something so light and airy and fun about her. So different from the other women that I’d known. The women I’d dated all seemed cold and calculating compared to her. Sure, they were tall and skinny and beautiful, but they didn’t have that light in their eyes. They were with me for one reason and one reason alone: because I was rich. Well, maybe because I was handsome too. But ultimately it was because I was rich and for the status that came from being seen on a date with me. Being in a newspaper or a magazine or a society page. That’s all they wanted. I didn’t care. The sex was perfunctory, sometimes good, and they didn’t demand anything more of me. I had nothing that I was willing to give them, and they knew that.
Everyone knew that Dylan McAllister was not a man that would ever be entangled. I didn’t seriously date. I had no intentions of having a girlfriend, let alone ever getting married. I didn’t want kids. I didn’t want a family. My brother would do that. He was fast on his way to having 2.4 kids and the perfect family, and I was happy for him. Our childhood hadn’t scarred him in the way it had scarred me. He didn’t remember.
I stopped myself from thinking about those days. When my stomach was empty. When my brother was crying for our mother. Me not knowing where she was. Me hoping she’d come and find us. The complete and utter disappointment when a new day would arise and we were still in the same place—or an even worse place. I didn’t understand why she’d left us, and I think that was the biggest issue that I had. I just didn’t understand why. Had she been poor? Had she been a drug addict? Had she been raped? I didn’t know. I had no answers, and with no answers it made you feel less than. It made you feel like you didn’t matter. My brother and I, we didn’t matter.
“Hey.”
I blinked as I heard the soft sweet voice next to me. “Sorry, what?”
“I was talking to you. You okay, Dylan?”
Abby looked at me with concern in her eyes. She touched her hand to my shoulder, almost unconsciously. I could feel the warmth of her compassion and caring through her fingers. She stared at me for a couple more seconds and I blinked at her, remembering where I was. I’d fallen into the pit of my memories and lost all track of time.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about something work-related. We need to do some work, you know.” I stood up. “Are you finished chitchatting?”
“I’m ready,” she said. “Are you sure you’re okay? You looked like you were a million miles away.”
“I was fine. I’m fine,” I answered. “Mr. and Mrs. Waldron, thank you for the wonderful lunch. I had an amazing time. I’m very full.” I patted my stomach. “It was delicious, absolutely delicious. And I’d love to hear more about Guyana and England from you both. Maybe we can go to dinner sometime.”
“Oh, that would be absolutely lovely. Thank you, Dylan.” Mrs. Waldron beamed at me, her eyes going back and forth between me and her daughter. I knew she could tell that something was up between us. I could tell that she was hoping that there was some sort of romance, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure, Abby was sexy as fuck, and I would fuck her in a heartbeat if I could. But I did not want to complicate the situation. She was quite possibly the best secretary I’d ever had and I enjoyed being around her. And because I enjoyed being around her, she made the work seem even more pleasant, and I didn’t want to lose that. I enjoyed going to the office. I enjoyed waiting for her calls in the morning.
I couldn’t lose her.