Chapter 1: Brad
I opened my eyes to the naked body of Megan Adams lying in front of me, her hand on my chest, a wedding ring glaring under the morning Las Vegas sun. I—
Wait, a fucking wedding ring?
When the fuck did Megan get married?
I looked closer at the ring. Surely, I had misinterpreted it. Perhaps it had been a ring on a different finger, or perhaps just a different style…
Nope. She was married. She was fucking taken by some lucky bastard.
“Well, fuck,” I muttered.
I didn’t worry about the husband. I was fucking Brad Nimico, CEO and owner of Nimico Waste Management, the largest company in its niche on the East Coast, and a fucking strong, healthy adult in his thirties. What was he going to do, threaten to sue me or beat me up?
Even if he could, I had enough connections to make sure shit like that didn’t happen. Suffice to say, the thought was downright laughable.
I didn’t worry about any potential scandal. I’d long had a reputation as being honest and shameless to a fault. If anything, sleeping with Megan would only bolster my reputation and make me even more revered. Perhaps it was secretly a gift to me.
But I did fucking worry about this fucking hangover that I was suffering from. I would have preferred to go to the pool party at Wet Republic without wondering why the fuck I’d gotten so drunk that I couldn’t even recall how Megan and I had wound up in bed.
Not that I was complaining. After how long the two of us had had eyes for each other? Shit, it was a damn miracle that nothing had ever fucking happened before.
But, seriously, how the fuck did we wind up in this spot?
* * *
Fifteen Hours Earlier
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the future of Nimico Waste Management. Thank you very much.”
The audience at the convention broke out in uproarious applause after my speech about the new technologies our company would introduce. I waved and nodded my head, but my eyes really only remained on one person for the duration of the applause.
Megan Adams.
She was the CEO of a rival company in New York City, but if I were honest, the rivalry never was personal—and that was by choice. Sure, we had our competition over contracts, but by and large, our relationship was one of respect, gentle teasing, and fun.
And flirting.
A lot of fucking flirting.
I’d had my eyes on her since the first time I had seen her at a convention. Long blonde hair, seductive blue eyes, kissable red lips…she looked every bit the part of girl next door by day while also being the college co-ed that screamed wild sex by night. Usually, when I wanted a girl, I got her.
But, for some stupid reason, not Megan Adams.
Call it her being a business equal or just call it her being her, but so far, she had managed to resist. But I would not wait much longer.
I went backstage, took off my mic and other equipment, and headed back to the main atrium. I had barely gotten off-stage when I saw Megan waiting for me, her arms crossed. In her red jacket and black skirt, she had me dreaming about what would happen if I just lifted that skirt a smidge, ran my fingers up, found her panties…
“Quite the speech you gave up there, Mr. Nimico.”
“For the last fucking time, Megan, just call me Brad,” I said, locking my eyes on her.
“Why? It’s much more fun to see you squirm when I call you by your formal name.”
Opportunity.
“Well then, maybe it’s time we change the circumstances in which you see me,” I said. “Maybe it’s time that you and I enjoy a drink at one of the Cosmopolitan bars.”
“Is that so?” Megan said, arching an eyebrow, a coy smile on her face. “In that case, maybe it’s time for me to go back to my room so I can get a nap and get ready.”
“Better be a fucking fast nap then,” I said. “Last night of the convention. You know everyone will want to network and chat. Only person I’m interested in networking and chatting with you.”
And grabbing you, slamming you, choking you, fucking you.
“Maybe I’m interested in that too,” she said. “Where and when?”
“Chandelier Bar, two hours,” I said. “Don’t be late. A man of my position has many options.”
She chuckled.
“A woman of my position does too,” she said. “But luckily, I have some respect for you.”
And a fucking whole lot more than that.
She turned and walked two steps away before she looked back at me.
“See you in two hours…Brad.”
Oh, fuck, I thought as I felt myself stiffening beneath my slacks.
* * *
If not for Megan Adams, I would have fucking hated coming to these conventions. As it was, I still couldn’t say this was my favorite part of the job.
The story was always the same. Give some bullshit speech about the changes we were making at NWM. Listen to people talk about how great we were. Get the occasional opener for discussing business options or, worse yet, a request for angel investment in some stupid-ass startup that I knew would never work. Take time away from actually growing the business and making money.
Rinse. And fucking repeat.
But the “if not for” wasn’t exactly something that could be ignored. I dared to say, in fact, that by this point, it was really the only reason I even bothered to show up to these fucking things in the first place. It’s not like I needed the network or the business opportunities; that was for damn sure.
I heard a seat pull back beside me. I looked over. Megan, good fucking heavens, was standing there.
And now, she only had a black cocktail dress on. And it was dangerously attractive. She knew damn well what she was doing. And I knew damn well that neither of us was going to resist the other.
“Hello, Mr. Nimico.”
I groaned. She laughed. Only she had the power to pull me on a string like this, but I didn’t think she even realized how much she could.
“For the last fucking time!” I said.
“What, call you Brad?” she said as she put her purse on her lap. “What’s the fun in that? Everyone else does what you want. Someone needs to push back.”
“And so you’ll do it by calling me a Mr. Nimico like I’m a teacher?”
“Shit, I guess that does make me something of a schoolgirl, huh?”
That cannot be by accident. Fuck, I’m getting hard. Uncontrollably hard.
“Well, luckily for you, we are all adults here, and we can all enjoy an alcoholic beverage,” I said, holding my hand up to the bartender, who came over immediately. “Two Manhattans.”
“Classy, huh?”
“Do you think I’d do shots?” I said.
Megan laughed. She leaned forward and put her hand on my arm.
For someone who could get laid easily and with some of the most beautiful women wherever he went, I did not get nervous very often. I had too much confidence in myself and too many options to ever let a woman make me feel nervous.
But that touch right there had me feeling like a high school freshman who had just been kissed on the cheek by the hot college girl.
I liked it, but I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t like that Megan had this kind of power and probably didn’t even realize it. I didn’t like that my usual smooth charm would soon turn into awkward fumbling. I needed to do something I hadn’t done in a while.