Page 64 of The Boss

“Looking for something?” Ashlee asked from behind me, even as I was researching for the folder markedMR Research, wondering what other types of research she’d been doing on me.

I turned around, clipping in hand. She stood a few feet away, her t-shirt and shorts back on. If I hadn’t been holding incriminating evidence of…something, I might’ve been distracted by how completely fuckable she looked.

“Found something.” I cut the distance between us in half. “You want to tell me what this is about?”

The muscles around her mouth tightened. “It’s an article about some of the charity work Manhattan Records has done.”

“An article from a paper that was printed before you came to work for us.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not sure what the problem is.”

“I think you do,” I said, my heart beating in my temples. “There are notes written in the margins.”

“Spit it out.” Her voice was hard, and I knew that whatever I said next would determine where things went from here.

I didn’t care.

“You’re stalking me. You found this article, saw that I was rich and decided this was how you were going to get money from me.” The words tumbled out of me. “You’ve had this planned all along. Get hired at the label, meet me, fuck me–”

“Out.” She walked past me to the door and opened it. “Get out.”

“Gladly.”

I didn’t bother going back into the bedroom to get my shirt. My phone was in my pants, and that was all I needed. I texted Angus from the lobby and waited near the door.

She should have just told me what she wanted. I wouldn’t have been hurt or surprised. Everyone wanted something. At least every other woman in my life had been honest about what they’d wanted from me. She didn’t need to lie about it. And not just one lie either. She’d been lying from moment one.

I thanked Angus when I got into the car but didn’t say anything else, my thoughts still on the way people had always used me.

In high school and college, girls had wanted to be with the good-looking, popular guy. In college, I’d had those things and a bright future. Then, just a few months after graduation, the record label that I’d started suddenly took a downturn. It’d been while I was out trying to drum up financial support to get me through the unexpected crisis when I met Isti Mollen.

In her mid-forties, Isti had lots of money and certain…tastes. It’d been an open secret – and still was – that Isti found young men who needed money and offered them ‘financial assistance’ in exchange for sex and companionship. I’d been no different.

I’d been working as a bartender at a high-end restaurant not far from where Manhattan Records stood today, trying to talk up patrons who looked like they might have money to spend. She came in for a business dinner and stopped at the bar afterward. By the time my shift was done, she’d promised me an investment of a couple thousand dollars if I spent the night with her.

Age had never really mattered to me, and I’d figured if I’d already planned on finding someone to fuck later, I might as well get paid for it. So I’d done it. And then she’d offered to make it a regular thing. She’d keep my record label going if I became her boy-toy.

My only other option at the time had been to go back home and admit I’d failed. Needless to say, I’d taken her up on her offer. I’d moved in with her, had my own room where I’d slept after she’d finished with me each night. The one thing I hadn’t counted on was that Isti had been into the BDSM, heavy on theS. She was a sadist, and enough of one for me to learn that I wasn’t a masochist. It hadn’t been too bad at first, but she’d gotten worse the longer we’d been together, and when things had inevitably reached a certain point, I’d gone elsewhere to meet my own needs.

I’d been an idiot. Fucked Isti’s maid at the house. She’d caught us, fired the maid and kicked me out. I’d been twenty-three and out on my ass. I’d refused to go to my parents’ place, not wanting to have to explain anything to them, so I’d been on the street.

I thanked Angus when he opened my door and told him I wouldn’t need him this weekend. I didn’t plan on doing anything but drinking and not leaving my penthouse. This second blow up with Ashlee had hit me harder than anything else had in a long time. I didn’t think I’d felt this bad since Isti had kicked me out.

As I took the elevator up to my floor, I let myself remember how that part of my story had played out.

I’d been out on the street for nearly three months, working at different clubs and bars as extra security, paid in cash, when this guy had found me. Finley Kordell. He’d been the only person I’d ever known who’d wanted to help me without asking for something in return. Sure, he’d become my partner when we’d started Manhattan Records, but it’d been an equal fifty-fifty split, and there’d been no ‘extras’ that I’d owed him. Our history was why he was the only person I truly trusted.

What had happened today had been the reminder I’d needed to not let anyone else close.

Forty-One

Ashlee

I’d spentall weekend trying to wrap my head around what’d happened Friday night. It wasn’t that I didn’tunderstandbut rather that I still couldn’t believe that it’d happened. Sure, when I’d invited Nate inside, a part of me had known he’d initiate sex and that was my own fault. No matter how angry I’d been at him or how many times I’d told myself that I was through, that deep physical attraction hadn’t gone away.

It had left the moment I’d told him to leave.

Objectively, he hadn’t become less good-looking, but the thought of him produced more negative emotions than it did positive. One of those negative emotions was directed more at me than at him, though.

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