“My contribution would be that I wouldn’t just tell you ‘yes.’” I gestured to a pair of men who walked by with their heads bent and their eyes down as they passed us. It was a guess, but I had a feeling it was one with a fair shot at being dead on. “You’re trying to run a company but everybody who works for you is too busy ducking their heads and avoiding eye contact, right? I’ve already shown you I’ll stare you in the eye and speak my mind. You need someone like me.”
Damon finally took a step back, making me feel like I could breathe again. He planted his hands on his hips, then scratched at the stubble on his chin, sizing me up. “Let me make something clear. I don’t need anyone. Nothing. Least of all someone like you. Look around you. All of this is mine. My fucking empire. But I’d very much enjoy watching you try to survive in my world.” He took a step toward me and tugged at the material of my shirt with his fingertips. “But when you show up for work tomorrow, try to wear something more presentable.”
I thought about presenting him with two middle fingers, or maybe my foot between his legs. Instead, I giddily danced inside because I’d landed the job.
It had taken a bizarre streak of luck and circumstance for it to happen, but it was mine. I may not know what the job was, exactly, or what it paid. All I knew was Damon Rose challenged me once and I failed. This time, it was going to be different.
This time I was going to prove he had underestimated me. And maybe, just maybe, I’d get a chance to find out what kind of man the father of my child really was.
5
Damon
Behind me, huge paneled windows lined my office wall. I had a clear view of the rectangular slice of green Central Park cut through New York City. Buildings like my own shot up around the edges. People I’d never meet hurried from place to place hundreds of feet below.
It made me think about something I’d heard before: imagine how dumb the average person is, then realize that means half of the world is dumber than that. I peeled myself from my thoughts to look at my brother, who might well reside in that lower half.
Chris sat across from me in my office with his fingers templed below his chin, as if he was contemplating some genius level topic in his mind.
“What?” I didn’t bother to hide the irritation I felt. I was trying to figure out a PR scandal one of my basketball players had ignited in the middle of the night, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with my brother’s shit.
“I’m just trying to figure out who the hell came up with sausages and hot dogs. Like… Who opens up an animal, sees intestines, and says, ‘you know what would be delicious? Let’s grind up this animal and stuff it inside its own intestines!’”
I sighed. “Is there anything else?”
“Yeah. Fish eggs. Like who in their right mind—”
“I’ve got a lot to work on, Chris. Unless there’s something more pressing, it can wait.”
He popped up to his feet and stopped at my door. “There is one thing. Coach might’ve said something about how if I don’t find a way to focus more on the team and less on women, he wasn’t going to renew my contract no matter how many touchdowns I throw this season.” My brother shrugged, as if he hadn’t just casually let me know Rose Athletic Representatives most lucrative athlete might be out of the job soon.
I stared. “He what? That’s ridiculous. Why would he care what you do with women if you’re performing on the field?”
My brother winced a little, then smirked. “There have been a few incidents. I didn’t want to bother you with them since the team decided it was in everyone’s best interest to keep them under wraps.”
“Incidents?”
“You know, you’re busy. We can talk about this later. Gotta jam!” Chris paused at the door. “You ever wonder why the phrase isn’t, ‘gotta jelly?’ Or why a condiment in the first place. Actually, if you were going to go the condiment route, I feel like saying ‘gotta ketchup’ would make the most sense.”
“Please,” I groaned. “Go. And don’t cause any more problems until I figure out how to fix this one.”
Like a kid who knew he’d pissed off his parents and was glad to get off with a slap on the wrist, Chris slid wordlessly out the door and closed it, leaving me with a wonderful little ball of pressure in the back of my head with his name on it.
I was just getting my focus back when my office phone chimed. “Mr. Rose, there’s a woman here who says you gave her a job yesterday. Should I call security?”
I grinned at that thought. It would be amusing to have security escort Chelsea out and pretend I’d never hired her. It would also mean she’d be gone for good this time. Which… was what I wanted, wasn’t it?
“No.” I tapped my finger on the desk. I hadn’t even decided which circle of hell to send my little Tinkerbell to. Exile was too easy. I could condemn her to the mail room or HR. Or… “Send her to my office.”
There was a long pause. “Your office, sir?”
“If the phones aren’t clear enough to stop me from repeating myself, then call fucking IT.” I shut off the call and rocked back in my chair, glaring at nothing in particular. Once upon a time, being an asshole had been a choice. When did it become so automatic?
It wasn’t something I could afford to worry about. Trish had made sure of that. Leading by fear meant the ones planning to stab you in the back were easier to spot. If you treat everyone like equals and friends, the knife will come with a smile. Lead with fear, and you either got bent necks or hatred. I was happy to bend every neck under me and dispatch the ones dumb enough to glare back. It was ruthless, but effective.
It also meant I didn’t make the same mistakes again—like trusting someone with my feelings or giving them the keys to hurt me. No. I’d learned the most important lesson from my ex, Trish. If you never let anyone in, you were fucking untouchable.
Tinkerbell was about to get a lesson in exactly what happened to people who had the nerve to defy me, and I was going to enjoy it.
My door opened a few minutes later. She walked in wearing another outfit that looked like it was plucked from the bargain bin of a thrift store—a dull skirt that stopped just above her knees and a tan, silky top that made her look like she belonged in an 80s law drama. I was only surprised it didn’t have shoulder pads.
“Sit.”
She waited just long enough to remind me she was a pain in my ass, then took the seat across from my desk. She sat with her thighs pressed together, but not so tightly that I couldn’t get a generous glimpse of her smooth legs. A vivid memory of spinning her around and fucking her from behind assaulted my senses. With an effort, I pushed it down.
The years had been kind to Chelsea. She’d blossomed from what I assumed was her early twenties and the look of a girl just barely out of college to a woman. A full blown, obnoxiously attractive woman. She still had that slightly crooked, freckled nose. She didn’t look as tan as I remembered, but her hips appeared wider and I even thought her chest had grown somewhat. Back then, she’d been hard, like an athlete at the peak of her career. Now she’d softened around the edges, and I couldn’t help wondering how soft and delicious it’d feel to pull her body against mine.