Page 81 of Takeover

“Okay.” I shrug and return to fixing my hair.

“Listen to me,” she takes a step closer, and I hold up my hand.

“Listen to you? Just who the hell do you think you are to tell me to listen to you? You have a warped sense of self.” I put my palm to her face and say, “Enough. You bore me.” I turn my back and walk to the stalls when she grabs my wrist and tugs. I try to pull away from her, but she tightens her hold. I twist out of her grasp, grab her wrist, and twist it behind her back. I push her against the sink. She tries to free herself, but I push her down.

Her birdlike friend runs to us, but Vick finally comes out of the stall, and says, “Touch my sister and I’ll fuck your shit up.” The woman freezes for a moment before running out of the bathroom, leaving Lindsay alone with the two of us.

“Don’t you ever touch me, do you hear me, Lindsay,” I say close to her ear. “Here’s some unsolicited advice, from one woman to another. Move the fuck on with your life because Ethan is not coming back to you. I can leave him tomorrow, and he’d want nothing to do with you. This is your last warning. Touch me again, and I won’t be so nice next time.” I pull her from the sink and let her go. She stumbles before finding her footing. She rubs her wrist while fire shoots from her eyes.

“Let’s go, Vickie.”

I find Ethan with Colt the minute I step back into the club. I’ll tell him about Lindsay as soon as we get home because if I tell him now, he’ll cause a scene, and that’s the last thing I want.

“I’m ready to go home, baby,” I say to him. I run my hands across his chest. “I’m ready to have you all to myself.”

“You coming, Vickie?” Ethan asks. “You can spend the night, or I can have Earl drive you home.”

“I’ll take the ride home,” Vickie says.

“Or I can take you home, Victoria,” Colt says. Vickie’s smile drops and she says, “No, thanks.” He admires her body, turns on his heels, and walks away. In the time it takes us to find our coats, Colt returns. He grabs Vickie’s hand, kisses it, and slaps a water bottle into her hand. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Jesus, men are lame,” Vickie says, but she watches Colt until he’s out of sight.

Ethan wraps an arm around my waist and Vickie holds onto one of my arms, and we walk out of the club. The three of us climb into the back of his car, and Ethan throws an arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his body. He kisses the top of my head and I close my eyes. The driver takes Vickie home first, and by the time we make it back to Ethan’s building, my eyes are heavy with sleep. He practically keeps me standing upright while we ride the elevator to the penthouse.

He undresses both of us, and when I try to jump in the bed, he grabs me and pulls us both into the shower. It’s quick, and I let him do all the work of washing and drying me. And because this is the first time in a long time, we don’t have a four-year-old in the house, we slip our naked bodies between the sheets.

Too tired to explore his body when he pulls me close, I close my eyes and fall asleep wrapped in the safety of his arms.

45

Despite the late night, I wake up right as the sun is rising. After kissing an unstirring Tara on the cheek, I hit the weights in my home gym for an hour. By the time I return to the bedroom, showered and dressed, she’s still in the same position, on her stomach with her face buried in the pillow. Her hair is a mess, and I pull a tangled strand off her cheek.

An hour after that, I’m sitting in my office to catch up on some work. The penthouse is still silent, and I decide to give her another fifteen minutes before I climb back in the bed with her and give her a morning surprise. I turn to the large monitor in my home office and sip my lukewarm coffee. Just as I open a spreadsheet, the door to my office opens. Tara strides inside, wearing a long, white wool gray coat.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” I begin, grabbing my coffee again, but she glides across my office, the sound of her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. The mug stops halfway to my lips. I watch, transfixed, as she unbuttons her jacket. My dick is already standing at attention, expecting to find her naked underneath the coat, but she surprises me.

She’s in a gray power suit. The skirt reaches just a few inches above her knee. The suit jacket is tapered, showing off her narrow waist. She has a crisp white shirt underneath with the first three buttons undone. I don’t miss the pearl necklace wrapped around her slender throat.

“Good morning, Mr. President,” she says.

Totally confused by what’s happening, I put the now cold coffee on my desk and say, “What?”

She tosses her coat to the couch in the corner and takes another step closer.

“I’m here for your daily debriefing, Mr. President, sir,” she practically coos.

She closes the space between us, pushes my chair away from the desk, and straddles my lap.

“I hope the briefing is not too big today, sir,” she says, grinding slowly on top of me. “But I am here to serve at the pleasure of the president.”

The penny suddenly drops, and I realize what she’s doing.

“Yes, you do. You do serve at my pleasure, but you’re late, Ms. Taylor.”

“Is the president displeased?” She runs a hand through her hair, lowers her head, and does her best to look contrite.

“Very.” I slap her ass, catching her off guard. That pushes her body closer to mine, and she bites her bottom lip. “How are you going to fix this, Ms. Taylor?”

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