"I wanted to ensure they renewed the account. Also, I may have been curious about your reaction when she came onto me." I rub the back of my neck.
"You knew she’d come onto you?"
"I expected it, yes."
Her jaw slackens. "And you wanted to see how I’d react to her being all over you."
"You were jealous of her attention toward me."
"I was not." She huffs.
I laugh. "You can deny it all you want, but I saw how pissed off you were when she put her hand on my sleeve."
"It was the wrong kind of behavior for an office," she says primly.
"That all it was?" I arch an eyebrow.
"That’s all it was." She juts out her chin.
I stare at her, then shake my head. "Still not buying it. And just so we’re clear, none of this means I’m going to sleep with you." I take in her still flushed features, those golden-brown eyes alight with the possibility of a fight, her thick dark hair a halo around her shoulders. She’s a vixen, a siren, a vision I’m going to carry around with me. A woman I’d love to bed, to own… To possess… And then, I’ll never be able to let go of her. I meant what I said earlier. As I sat there and watched her deliver that presentation, I felt a flush of pride, an emotion very close to protectiveness. A thrill ran through me at the thought that I’d helped her with the presentation. Imagine that? Clearly, she’s broken through the walls I’ve built between myself and the world.
After how my first wife left me, I convinced myself I wasn’t made for relationships. She makes me want to believe there’s a better side of me that I’ve yet to find. She makes me want to be someone she can depend on. She makes me want to be the kind of man who’ll be there for her. She makes me want to be better… Period. Fuck. I’m losing myself. I don’t want the complications that would come with being with her, even if it means for only one night. I wouldn’t be able to walk away, and that would change everything. I don’t want that kind of impediment in my life right now. It’s best I leave. While I still can. "Goodnight, Lena."
I turn and walk toward the door just as Isaac strolls in.
He pauses; so do I. Behind me, I sense Lena stiffen.
"You?" Isaac scowls. "What are you doing here again?"
"I—"
"Oh, we were discussing the pitch I presented this morning," Lena interrupts as she hops down to the floor. She moves toward him, then rises up on tiptoes to brush her lips over his. "So happy you’re back, Isaac."
My guts churn. My chest tightens. I ignore the hollowness in my stomach and head for the door. As I walk past the two of them, Isaac frowns. "Do you make it a habit to come here often?"
"Yes, Isaac. I come in here every night to check on you and make sure the boogie-man hasn't taken you away,” I scoff.Jesus, man, do you have to resort to sarcasm to deflect the conversation and with your own son?
His frown deepens. "Can’t the two of you keep your work dealings to the office? Do you have to come to our room past midnight?"
"You’re right. It’s nothing that couldn’t have waited until tomorrow. It won’t happen again." I step out of the room and shut the door behind me. Then, like a coward, I wait. There’s silence, then the low murmur of voices. The creak of the bed, then silence again. I press my ear to the door. The sound of her gasp reaches me.Motherfucker.My fingers tighten on the handle of the door. The bed creaks again, then she moans.Don’t go in, don’t give yourself away. Have some pride, you loser.
I don’t step into the room. I don’t leave, either. I stay there like a motherfucking twat, unable to move. Unable to stop listening to the sounds that emerge from behind the closed door. Unable to stop my guts from churning. Unable to stop my fingers from curling into fists. Unable to stop my dick from lengthening and stretching the crotch of my pants. Is it wrong that I’m turned on to hear my son fucking his girlfriend…hisgirlfriend, the girl I want to fuck? The sounds of panting reach me, then I hear the unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh. My shoulders tense. Every muscle in my body tautens.
Go away, there’s still time. Leave. Right now.But do I? Of course not. I stand there through the sound of her mewling, his grunting, then her crying out, and my son’s groans as he comes. Silence descends. The blood thuds at my temples. My chest rises and falls. A bead of sweat slides down my throat. Still, I don’t move.
Then, I hear the bed creak again, and the sound of footsteps approaches the door. That’s when I turn and quietly jog down the steps. Grabbing my keys, I walk to the garage, past the rows of cars, to the dust-sheet-covered shape at the very end. I pull off the cover, and for the first time in a decade, I straddle my bike. Good thing I’ve kept it in top-notch condition, for when I kick start it, it revs up immediately. The garage door rolls up, and I pull out. I ride for what seems like hours around the deserted city until, at dawn, I find myself at Primrose Hill.
I park the bike, walk up to the summit and glance down at the city. I grew up in the streets of the East End of London and came of age when my parents were killed in a car accident. They were schoolteachers, honest upright folks who’d saved up for years for a family vacation to the coast. I survived the crash unhurt. I was fifteen, on my own, no brothers or sisters. My mother was an orphan, my father’s parents hadn’t wanted to take on the responsibility of a teenage boy. As a result, I went into foster care.
My next few years were without incident, but for the fact I insisted on picking fights. With my foster parents, with my schoolmates. My foster family didn’t give up on me, though. They were patient, giving me my space, insisting I go into therapy to deal with the aftermath of what had happened to me. Even at that age, I didn’t need a therapist to tell me I was acting out to assuage my conscience.Why had I survived when my parents hadn’t?A question that would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I’d have refused to continue with therapy, but for the fact I‘d developed a crush on my counselor. An infatuation that pushed me to complete high school, and to graduate. I turned up at her home, only to find she was already married with two kids and a doting husband. I never forgave her for that… For what I thought was a betrayal.
But did I walk away from her? Hell no. I went back when she was alone at home, and seduced her. Even at eighteen, I was charismatic enough, and she didn’t refuse me. I fucked her in her marital bed, then walked away. I never saw her again.
In the years that followed, I began running with a local gang. My parents had been honest to a fault, and what had it gotten them? An early death? That life wasn’t for me. I wanted more for myself, and I didn’t want to wait until I was older.
My parents were gone before they could live life, and I meant to make use of every second I was alive. I wanted to get rich quickly. It’s why I decided to embrace the gray area of the law. I established the Kane company with Kane Enterprises as it’s legal front. I decided to do whatever it took to establish myself as the head of the most powerful underground, organized crime syndicate in the country. It included sleeping with any woman who interested me, no matter if they were attached. Not that I had to try hard to seduce them, either. The wives flocked to me, knowing I’d satisfy them physically—something their husbands couldn’t do. Only I spoiled them for anyone else, resulting in their marriages breaking up.