Page 20 of Mr. Perfect

“Yeah,” I say. “I fucked her. Because that was my evil plan all along. I reappear after ten years just so I can come to work and fuck two girls in one day.” I take my opportunity to snatch the letter and tuck it into my inside breast pocket. “You’re not quitting. Do you understand? You better be on the seventh floor tomorrow at seven-thirty or else.”

“Or else what?” Ellie asks, picking up her shirt and slipping her arms inside. Her breasts move and jiggle with the motion and I cannot—cannot, for the life of me—look away.

“Or else,” I say, once she has that sash tied tight and her breasts are covered again. “Or else… I’ll send Heath all those texts. And,” I add, “I’ll tell everyone about your little workplace gossip board on Pinterest. I got that message, you know. You were using your company phone when you posted all that stuff. I have access to all of that information. And I will use it.”

“You would not dare,” she seethes.

“Try me, Miss Hatcher. Just try me.”

Chapter Nine - Mac

Why the fuck did I just threaten her? What a dick move. She’s probably going to sue me. She’s probably thinking up ten ways to cut my dick off. And I’m not fooled by that sweet pretense she’s putting on, either. I have a feeling Ellie Hatcher is ruthless.

I walk straight to the parking lot where my BMW is waiting. I purchased the car online last week and had it delivered today while I was in meetings. I press my fingertips on the handle and the car beeps, then unlocks. I climb in and push the button to start it up, revving the engine enough to make a few people leaving late look over at me.

Now home.

Home.

I say it over and over in my head. Home.

Don’t start, Mac. Just don’t start.

I put the car in gear and squeal out of the parking lot, make a left on the first street, and follow that road around to the Occulus Building where I now own the penthouse.

Home.

Hardly. I wouldn’t call that top-floor monstrosity a home. A place to live. Temporarily, anyway. But not a home.

Home has people in it, and this place has none. Not even full-time staff. The family was livid when I let them go, but there are plenty of other places for them to work. I need to be alone. If I’m being forced to stay here while Stonewall Entertainment is sold, well, I want to be alone while that happens.

I pull into the underground garage a few minutes later and flash my phone at the security gate sensors. I have to get a sticker for the car, then I won’t even need to stop. The gate will open, I’ll slide into the private parking section, and board my private elevator to the penthouse.

All without bumping into anyone.

When I get upstairs I empty out my pockets and find Ellie’s resignation letter.

Why the fuck did I overreact like that? And not just the threat at the end. Why the hell am I throwing myself at this girl? She’s… well, yeah, she’s cute. And that combined with the almost sex—twice—at the office, well, she’s gotten into my head.

Get out, get out. I don’t want her there.

Tomorrow when I go into the office and she’s in the one right next door, I’m going to be the epitome of professional. No peeks down her blouse, no hands on her tits, no bending her over the desk.

I’m hard again. Just what the fuck?

I start to open the letter; I even get so far as a small tear in the back cover of the flap. But I stop.

I think I invaded Ellie Hatcher’s private thoughts enough today.

So I walk into the office, open the desk drawer, and toss it in there. It’s not like she can’t just print out another one, right? I’m sure she’s already done that. I’m sure my threats were a challenge to her to beat me at my own game. I’m sure she’s probably emailing that letter right now. Along with a long list of complaints about my bad behavior.

As usual. I’m the disappointment.

Ten years away and I can feel all the same old misconceptions about me resurfacing.

What gives her the right to judge me?

I walk over to the bar and pour myself a drink from the crystal decanter and take a sip. I might need the whole bottle to get through this night.