The asshole who shagged me then disappeared from my life; the man who’s been fucking his way through women in different parts of the world is offering me a role on his team? And why? Because he wants to see me fail and laugh at me, no doubt. Apparently, raising my expectations that, perhaps, there was a chance for us to explore a relationship, then shattering those hopes by leaving me wasn’t enough. Guess he wants to destroy what little is left of my confidence, eh?
Of course, it’d mean I’d finally get a chance to see him every day. And how agonizing would that be? To watch him from up-close as he shags other women? If I accept this job, I’m setting myself up for failure, or worse…heartbreak, considering I’m more than half in love with him already. Or maybe, I’m fully in love with him, going by how my heartbeat hasn’t slowed since I saw him in the doorway. If I go to work for him, it’s going to be agony. It’s best to stay as far away from him as possible. It’s the only way I’m going to hold on to what dignity I have left.
I fold my arms across my chest, mirroring Cade’s earlier body language. "And if I refuse?"
24
Cade
She’s here. Of course, she’s here. Zara’s her boss, and the two of them share a unique relationship where my sister, clearly, considers herself a mentor to Abby. Abigail Warren. Little sister of my best friend Knight, who he explicitly warned me off. A warning I did not heed when I decided to make her pay for what she did. What I didn’t expect is this bone deep attraction for her. Every time I make her come, it’s as if I’m losing a part of myself to her. It makes me feel close enough to her to share my deepest secrets.
It’s why I left without a word. I couldn’t face her again after that last time I made love to her—yes, it was making love, not fucking or shagging. It was missionary position, gazing into each other’s eyes, vanilla lovemaking which blew my brain and made me orgasm so hard I saw stars for days after.
The fact that I didn’t need any sex games to bring myself to completion—that being inside her, holding her, touching her, kissing her, hearing her soft moans, and ensuring I satisfied her had been enough to satisfy me—was a mindfuck. Let’s face it, I was spooked. The King had been toppled from his throne, and fuck, if that didn’t throw me for a six—forgive the cricket metaphor, not. I needed distance to gain some perspective, and I counted on the game to do that for me.
And, to some extent, it did. These past few months have been the most successful of my career. Only, I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind. Were it not for the fact that I’ve had eyes on her and could follow her every move in and out of her house, I’d have gone mad. Let’s not discuss why I’ve had eyes on her. Obsession, much?
Suffice it to say, the last few months have been torture. Watching her jerk herself off to sleep every night and hearing her moans and cries as she orgasmed without my help has been sheer torture. I’ve never been jealous of a vibrator as much as I am of the one she keeps in her bedside drawer. I’ve recorded those videos and jerked off to them every night. I know it’s beyond fucked-up, but it’s the only way I’ve survived. I suppose, if only for that reason, it’s a good thing I didn’t tell her she couldn’t orgasm without me. I know she would have obeyed me, even if she didn’t want to, and then I wouldn’t have seen it.
But nothing comes close to seeing her in real life as she stands here looking at me with her big, green eyes. And of course, she’s not going to accept the proposition that she work for me.
"Don’t recall giving you a choice," I drawl.
Her gaze widens. "Choice? You’re giving me a choice?"
"I’m not," I clarify.
Color flushes her cheeks. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?"
"The man your brother charged with taking care of you."
"Excuse me?" Those big eyes of hers grow enormous, until they overshadow any other feature. “Knight never mentioned anything about you taking care of me, and why would he do that anyway?”
"Because I’m his best friend?" I suggest.
“Well, I absolve you of your duty.” She cuts the air with her palm. “You can rest assured; I can look after myself.”
“Apparently, you’re not doing a good enough job of it,” I sneer.
“King!” Zara protests, but I ignore her.
Abby stiffens. “What do you mean?”
I look her up and down. “Clearly, you haven’t been sleeping. You have dark circles the size of Greenland under your eyes.”
“Wh-what?” She opens her mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again.
Before she can respond, I continue, “As for your dress… I can’t believe you wore that out of the house.”
Zara makes a strangled noise at the back of her throat.
I ignore her; so does Abby.
She glances down at her dress. “This’s from Mango,” she whispers. When she looks at me again there’s a downward tilt to her lips.
My chest tightens, my insides heave, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. And all because I hurt her with my words? Fuck that. My feelings for her haven’t changed—not one bit, not at all. She’s still the girl who betrayed me, and I’m still the man who’s going to make her pay for it.
“It’s too short,” I growl.
“Too short?” She looks down at the hem which falls to just above her knees, then at me. “It’s perfectly decent.”
I firm my lips. “It’s also sleeveless and the neckline is too revealing and—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Zara snaps. The baby stirs, then begins to cry. She hushes the kid, who only begins to bawl louder. “It’s okay, darling. Mommy’s here. You’re hungry, aren’t you?” She pushes down the neckline of her dress and I get a flash of her breast—my sister’s breast—before I hastily turn away.
The baby stops crying, clearly, because it’s latched onto her boob. Ah hell, should I be associating the word boob with my sister? Sisters aren’t supposed to have breasts or get married, or spawn babies, for that matter. Jesus, when had the time gone by?
I remember Zara as a feisty girl who matched me when it came to running, playing cricket and football, or standing up to my parents when they insisted she behave more like a 'girl.' When did she grown up enough to have a child of her own? How much did I miss in the time I was away from home? I rub the back of my neck. Why am I having all of these misgivings? I made my choices a long time ago. And so far, they’ve stood me in good stead. So, why am I questioning them now? Clearly, seeing my sister with her newborn, not to mention running into the woman who has a way of getting under my skin, has thrown me off kilter.
"I think, uh… I need a cup of coffee." I turn toward the door.
"I’m not done with either of you," Zara announces.
I blow out a breath. I may be a few minutes older than her, but she’s always been the bossy one. And when my sister commands, you don’t ignore it.
I exchange glances with Abby, who looks a little shamefaced, as well. She glances at Zara. "Sorry about that; didn’t mean to wake up the little one."