Chapter Twenty-Five

Elle

A FEW DAYS passed.

I didn’t contact him.

He didn’t contact me.

It was as if he never existed.

If it weren’t for the fading cuts and bruises on my feet, I would’ve struggled to believe the night at his place even happened.

My mind was a broken record—even work couldn’t distract me.

All I could think about was Penn washing my feet, Penn hitting that guy, Penn sliding inside me.

He’d shown two totally different sides of himself, and I couldn’t unscramble what it meant. I’d hoped having some time to myself would deliver decisions on what to do.

To make up my mind to forget about him or chase the answers slowly turning me hollow.

Spreadsheets and conference calls didn’t help, and the lack of contact did the opposite of what I wanted. My heart grew fonder (just like that stupid saying).

My idiotic mind sketched him in a kinder light than the one he’d shown.

I second-guessed his pretension and conceit, making up stories that would explain his sudden switch to guardian and medic all in one.

Just like my unpaid debt to Nameless, I had one toward Penn now. I owed him thanks at the very least for ensuring I returned home safe and my injuries were disinfected.

When he finally ~did~ text me, I no longer wanted him to fall off the face of the planet but was grateful to hear from him.

Penn (08

47a.m. ):How are your feet?

Elle (08

52 a.m.):Fine. I never said thanks for taking care of me.

Penn (09

00 a.m.):Are you saying it now?

Elle (09

03 a.m.):Maybe.

Penn (09

06 a.m.):Are you sore?

Elle (09

08 a.m.):My feet?

Penn (09

08 a.m.):No. The other part I touched that night.

Sex between us exploded into my senses: sight, sound, taste, feel—I wasn’t in my office but back in his bed. I had no intention of letting him know how much I wanted a second round.

Elle

(09:09 a.m.) Oh yes, that’s right. I’d forgotten about that.

Penn

(09:10 a.m.) Do you want me to refresh your memory?

Elle

(09:11 a.m.) Perhaps you should.

Penn

(09:12 a.m.) I want to fuck you again.

Elle

(09:17 a.m.) So do it.

Penn

(09:17 a.m.) Fair warning, I won’t go so easy on you next time.

I choked a little.

I’d played fairly easy to catch, and the thought of tangling in bed together sounded far too tempting. But if I let him into my body again, I might not be able to keep my feelings out of it.

Damn him for washing my feet and showing me he could care. How could I keep my heart frosty if he’d thawed a little?

The answer was I couldn’t.

We’d slept together. We’d had three days apart. It was a good time to end this charade before everyone he’d lied to got hurt. I’d thanked him. I could move on.

Elle (09

20 a.m.):I’ve changed my mind.

Penn (09

23 a.m.):What the fuck does that mean?

Elle (09

27 a.m.):It means the sex was amazing, but it doesn’t change the fact you lied to my father. You made him think he can relax knowing I’m going to be taken care of—his words, not mine. I can’t let him believe we’re truly together. He has heart issues. I enjoyed the other night but don’t expect anything more. Let’s end this now before it gets complicated.

No text came back.

My phone vibrated alive in my hand.

~Penn calling…~

“Oh, shit.” Huddling over my desk, I deliberated whether I should ignore the call. Problem was he knew I was around because I’d responded to his texts.

Sucking in a breath, I pressed accept. “Hello.”

“Don’t hello me, Elle.”

“Okay…”

“Don’t okay me, either. Especially in that tone.” His voice dripped with sex, pooling directly into my core.

“Well, if you’re not going to let me speak, why the hell did you call me?”

“I’ll tell you why. Because I found your last message ridiculous.”

I held my tongue, waiting for him to continue.

“It so happens I’ve spoken to your father.”

“What?”

“And he approves of us.”

“He’ll approve of anyone with a penis and a pulse.”

~As long as it’s not Nameless or someone with a criminal record.~

“Thanks for that stab at my self-worth,” he purred. “Nevertheless, I have a lunch date with him today. If you say you’re sorry and admit you want me to make you come again, I might let you join us.”

I couldn’t do this.

“Hold up. You ~might~ let me come on a date with my ~own~ father?” I rolled my eyes, glowering at Sage as she pranced over my desk. “I can’t hear you because your ego is so inflated.”

“I think you mean my cock. My cock is inflated thinking about fucking you again.” His voice dropped from crude to cool. “I’m meeting your father at the Tropics in three hours. Come or don’t.

“Your choice.”

He hung up.

I had a good mind to call him back and screech that I wasn’t some possession to be played or a toy to be tormented. But someone knocked on my door. “Elle?”

~Oh no, this day just keeps getting worse.~

“Yes, Greg, you can come in.”

He strode in with all the arrogant airs of a playboy dressed in a baby blue polo and pressed jeans.

His dark blond hair was tussled in just the right way to hint he was always this good looking with no effort, when I happened to know—from many childhood get-togethers—that he took ~hours~ in the bathroom manscaping.

Yet another reason why I could never be with Greg. He valued his appearance more than any other thing in his life…including whatever woman he ended up with as his wife.

“Hi, Elle.” He perched on the edge of my desk, his butt nudging aside paperclips and scattering pens. “Whatcha doing today?”

Sage gave him a kitty-glower and leaped off the glass to return to her nest of blankets by my feet.

I forced myself not to roll my eyes. “The usual. Running my family’s company. You?”

“Just had the weekly brief with my old man. Logistics is boring compared to all the number-juggling you guys get to do up here.”

When Greg left school, Steve and my father had worked out a position for him to fill. A position that wouldn’t affect Belle Elle’s reputation or bottom line if he lost interest or screwed up.

Being the head of the logistics department ought to be a full-time, full-on occupation, but his executive assistant was far too good at her job, and Greg took that as an opportunity to play retired.

“It’s not fun.” I smiled huge and bright. “Believe me.”

~And you’re not allowed to fiddle with things you know nothing about and don’t give two craps over.~

He plucked my turquoise ink fountain pen and spun it in his fingers. “Want to go to dinner with me tonight?

“Hanging at the Palm Politics with those girls from your school was fun.” He flashed me a grin. “I enjoyed it. And I know our fathers did.

“They’re so happy we got together on our own accord and not at a family dinner.”

Unable to help myself, I grabbed the pen from his fingers and placed it back on the desk. “Sorry, Greg, I’m busy. Maybe next time.”

“Next time what?” His eyes narrowed, that edge of darkness revealing itself. “Next week, you mean? Next month? When, Elle? I’m not going to wait around for you forever, you know.”

The faintest clanging of warning bells began. His smile remained, but the harsh malice he managed to hide so well glimmered.

I sat taller. My will to be cordial faded under the need to kick him in the balls and show him that he might’ve seen me in tutus and crying over bullies, but he didn’t know me now.

I wouldn’t put up with his passive-aggressive behavior—certainly not in my office.

“I never asked you to wait, Greg. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you I only want to be friends.”

He scoffed, once again snatching my pen, daring me to steal it back as he clenched it hard in his fist. “See, that’s the thing with you, Elle. You send mixed messages.”

I rubbed the anger prickling my arms. “Don’t confuse your own meddling for my approval.”

He leaned forward, bringing spite and jealousy whiffing into my nose. “I don’t meddle. You want me. Everyone fucking knows that.”

I pursed my lips, hating the way my heart scampered when I wanted to remain angry.

It would be so easy to do what Penn did and lie. To say I was with him now. Engaged. But I wouldn’t do that because I didn’t need Penn to fight my battles for me.

Besides, Penn had told him point blank that I was his now, yet Greg tried to claim me anyway.

I went with a roundabout lie. A dressed-up little fib. “You’re mistaken. I’m with someone.”

“Bullshit. Go out with me. One date. What’s so bad about me that you won’t even ~eat~ with me?” His annoyance shimmered like a bloodthirsty guillotine ready to fall. “Stop being such a bitch.”

The gentle clanging of bells turned into an orchestra of caution. I ~hated~ him looming over me, perched on my desk. I stood, pushing my chair back, and crossing my arms.

“Call me a bitch again, and I’ll have you fired.”

He slapped his thigh. “God, you’re adorable when you act all CEO.”

I ignored that.

Reaching for the only thing—the only person—who popped into my head, I snapped, “Are you expecting me to cheat on Penn?”

He guffawed. “Cheat? Come on, Elle. I know it’s all a scam. You’ve known the guy two minutes. I’ve known you for twenty-two years.

“He doesn’t stand a chance.” He leaned forward, smelling clean and soap-like compared to Penn’s mysterious deep aftershave. “You’re having a fling. Shit, I’ve had them too.

“You think I mind if you fuck him?”

I bared my teeth, holding my ground. “You should if you’re as in love with me as you claim.”

His smile was toxic. “Love? Who said anything about love? I said we’re meant to be together. We’re compatible. Our families own Belle Elle, and we work side by side.

“I’m not afraid of some bullshit asshole who thinks he can steal what’s mine by sticking his dick in you.”

Every nerve ending wanted to bolt out the door. My eyes shot to the intercom button where Fleur could bring reinforcements. Alone with him in my office was worse than alone on a street with a thief.

~I can’t let him get away with this idiocy. Such treason.~

Rebuttals came swift, forming fast on the typewriter of my mind, slipping into orderly fashion to school him. I’d had enough practice with bastards like him.

~You don’t intimidate me, asshole.~

Greg continued, loving the sound of his own threat. “You’ve had your fling, Elle. But I’m the one you’re meant to be with.

“I’m the one who has our fathers’ blessings, and I’m the one who deserves Belle Elle, not him or some other schmuck who thinks they can steal what’s mine—”

My patience snapped.

I left prim and proper and embraced fire and ferocity.

Grabbing his baby blue polo in my fist, I yanked him off my desk. He stumbled to his feet, shock making him pliable.

“Listen to me, Greg, and listen good.” My voice was a hiss. “You will never and have never owned Belle Elle. Belle Elle is ~mine~. You work here. You. Are. My. Employee.

“If you think I would ~ever~ marry someone like you—someone pompous and self-centered and nasty—then all the years together haven’t taught you a thing.

“I ~rule~ you, Greg, so get the fuck out of my office, get back to logistics, do your goddamn job, and if you ever try to threaten me again, I’ll call the police.” I shoved him away from me.

“Am I perfectly clear?”

For a second, the world teetered. Two scenarios lived side by side.

One, me bleeding on the floor from Greg’s punch, my skirt ripped, and his hands where they should never be.

And two, him backing down and finally conceding defeat.

I was stupid not to recognize the war brewing between us.

To let Steve and my father make it seem like a harmless flirtation while Greg had already kicked me from my office and plastered his name over the plaque on the door.

He’d been counting my money and power since he left diapers.

“This is the end of whatever this is, got it?” I held my head high and pointed at the door. Sage meowed loudly in support. “Leave. Now. I won’t ask again.”

Slowly, a sly smile slithered over his lips. He no longer looked preppy but provoked and already planning retaliation. “I see you’re not a little girl any longer, Elle.” He swayed forward.

“I like it.”

“Get out!”

He chuckled and strode to the door, leaving me gobsmacked that he’d obeyed.

Opening it, he turned and blew me a kiss. “Just so you know, your little speech was cute, but I know you don’t mean it.

“You’re as much a liar as that asshole you’re fucking.” He wiggled his fingers condescendingly in goodbye. “I’ll visit you next week, Elle—give you some time to cool down.”

His eyes turned to ice. “However, the next time I come for you; next time I ask politely for you to join me on a date, you’re going to say yes, Noelle. Just watch.”