Henry:The CEO wants a meeting with us tomorrow morning. 9:00 a.m.
“Crap,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong?” Anna says, peering at me over the rim of her glass.
I huff. “Henry and I have to meet with the CEO first thing tomorrow.”
“I’m serious, Gem. It’ll be fine,” April says, offering me a small, reassuring smile.
“Exactly.” Anna nods. “And you don’t have to worry about Max. He may be an arrogant prick sometimes, but he’s fair. He won’t let this morning’sincidentaffect the project.”
I scoff, tossing back the rest of my champagne. “Famous last words.”
Chapter Eight
Max
I push open the door to my Knightsbridge penthouse, letting my satchel drop to the floor as I step inside. Loosening my cuff links, I roll my shoulders back, unbuttoning my shirt en route to the bathroom.
Grayson insisted I stay in the Livingstone Hotel in Mayfair with him, but I was happier staying in my old penthouse—the one I rented out on a month-by-month basis after moving to New York. He decided he’d rather stay at the hotel than room with me, and I respect his decision.
We both have rather active social lives and enjoy our… extracurricular activities, and now that I’m completely alone for the duration of this trip, weekends included, I fully intend to indulge.
I finish undressing and step under the spray, the hot water pounding against my skin as I scrub.
I’m exhausted, and honestly, wound up. I gave Grayson my word I’d see this launch go off without a hitch, and I plan to deliver. I wasn’t lying earlier when I told Gemma her pitch was impressive. It was. On paper, everything looked great, but the way she conducted herself today does haveme second-guessing. She’s smart, no doubt, but the attitude problem? That’s something to be addressed.
Something I wouldn’t mind taking care of myself.
My mind wanders back to that Instagram photo—sexy as sin—and a sharp breath hisses through my teeth as I wrap a hand around my hard, aching cock.
I rub the pre-cum over my tip before I start pumping, my grip firm.
I picture her bent over my desk, her skirt hiked up, silencing that smart mouth of hers until all she can do is scream my name as I pound into her. I’d kick her legs wider, my hand sliding down to where we’re connected, collecting her wetness and smearing it over that perfect arse. I’d sink my finger knuckle deep in her tight hole while I’m taking her from behind.
Warmth courses through me before I explode, lashing the tiled wall with my cum.
Fuck.
This woman.
After showering and freshening up, I pour myself two fingers of fifty-year-old Macallan—only the best. I swirl the crystal tumbler, letting the rich toffee notes of the amber liquid open before throwing it back.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table; Casey’s name flashes across the screen.
Casey and I divorced four years ago, but she still reaches out on the odd occasion—usually when she’s had too much to drink, or when reality seems to be slipping away from her entirely.
Perfect timing, as always. Even years after divorce, she still has an uncanny ability to surface exactly when I’m trying to unwind. The calls and texts have become more frequent lately—sometimes three or four in a day. Whether it’s rambling voicemails about how much she misses “whatwe had,” or bizarre texts claiming she’s seen me in bars and restaurants I’ve never stepped foot in, I can’t seem to escape her, despite being an ocean apart.
When I told her about my move to New York, she was devastated. She begged me not to leave and insisted we could “work it out,” but I couldn’t stay—there was nothing left to give. I let her down as gently as I could, and she finally seemed to accept it. We weren’t together anymore, and we hadn’t been in years. So, to my knowledge, things with Casey had ended amicably—or as amicably as things can when you realize the person you promised forever to isn’t your forever at all.
But when she started messaging me about her supposed sightings while I was clearly thousands of miles away, I began to worry. She doesn’t know I’m back in the country, and I haven’t told her deliberately.
I was completing my MBA with Grayson in New York when I met Casey. I had only recently broken up with my ex, Nicole.
Casey was in a few of the same classes as Grayson and me, and it felt like fate that she was from London too.
We had only been together for two years before I proposed, but everything was moving fast. It seemed to happen so naturally.
