Page 31 of Two of a Kind
“I know your heart’s in the right place, but do us both a favor and let it go, okay? It’s water under the bridge, and I don’t need any more drama in my life.”
With that, Kayla left the deli and walked back to her office, feeling even worse than when she had left.
Chapter Twenty-One
Holing up in his officehad proven only marginally successful in keeping the sharks at bay. There was no shortage of people offering him unsolicited advice, each one thinking they knew far more about what was best for him than he did.
Maybe a couple years ago, he would have agreed with them. The bottom line was, a marriage to Chelsea Chamberlaindidmake good business sense. It would give both companies a crucial advantage, especially in the European markets, and everyone involved stood to make a shit ton of money.
His cutthroat instincts were humming with the potential to turn a multi-million-dollar venture into a billion-dollar one. It should be a no-brainer, yet he was balking. Why?
Because, for some unfathomable reason, he didn’twantto do it. He blamed his grandfather, who had somehow managed to make him believe it was possible to have it all. Not only had the man made Dumas Industries into an international success, he had also been crazy in love with his wife of fifty-two years.
Chelsea was classically attractive and had the countenance of a royal. Her bloodlines ran more blue than red. She spoke five languages fluently and had studied at the best schools money could buy. Her family had more money and more connections than his, and that was saying something.
Personality-wise, they were very much alike. Cold. Calculating. Ruthless. She had no more use for hearts and flowers than he did, and didn’t care for one minute that there were no genuine feelings between them. She, like him, had been raised with one goal: to win. To always come out on top, no matter who you had to step on in the process.
Now that no longer seemed enough. He wantedmore.
He wanted to love his job. He wanted to get up every morning and look forward to whatever the day would bring, not dread it. He wanted the freedom to make his own decisions, without political ramifications, without bending to the will of the one-percent who controlled not only Dumas Industries, but most of the big companies around the world.
Sate gave him all that and more. He had turned his vision into a profitable reality and had complete autonomy.
Originally, he had purchased the small island with the intent of creating his own private getaway, but then he got to thinking and the ideas grew. Why build a house when he could build a resort? Why build a state-of-the-art kitchen when he could build a five-star restaurant? Why buy another big yacht when he could purchase a fleet of smaller, sleeker models and charge handsomely for the privilege of using them?
His entrepreneurial spirit had soared. If he, the man who had everything, needed a place to escape, then others did, too. Being the master of his own domain held a lot more weight when that domain involved clients willing to shell out big bucks to feed their need for top-shelf treatment.
The best part was, it was allhis. It had taken him years, but he had done it all outside of the DI umbrella.
He sat back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. He wished he was at Sate now, handling business via SAT link while sitting on his private penthouse balcony and sipping something cold and potent instead of in his corner office, surrounded by dark paneling and yes-men. If it hadn’t been for Chelsea’s unannounced arrival, he still might be there, finding more excuses to avoid his father and this merger. If it hadn’t been for Chelsea’s personal staff waiting in the lobby to snap misleading pictures as he escorted her out, his “engagement” wouldn’t be broadcasting on local and national news.
And he had been having such a good time, too.
Visions of Vexy flashed in his mind as they did so often these days, making his pants grow snug beneath the desk. He pictured her eyes, filled with desire and intent as he filled her, teased her, made her beg.
He reached into his desk and retrieved the red thong he had found in his pocket, the one she had left him as a souvenir. The one he had carried around with him ever since.
