Dirty Rich Obsession by Lisa Renee Jones
I’m standing at his desk across from him when he disconnects. “He wants us to have dinner with him at his Hamptons home. Tonight, baby. Let’s go pack for an overnight stay and then go nail the deal of a century. He wants to get to know you before he talks about a project he has brewing.” He rounds the desk and pulls me to him. “But not the way I want to get to know you.” He cups my face. “I want to know you, Carrie. I’m obsessed with knowing you, woman. I know the smartest thing for you to do is to walk away, but I already told you last night—I can’t let you.”
“Instead you’ll just push me and push me until I do it for you?” I don’t give him time to reply. “No. In or out, Reid. Isn’t that what you told me? And before you answer, I don’t want asshole-Reid. I want you. The real you. I won’t tell that he exists if you don’t.”
“You might not like what you discover,” he warns.
“Does that mean you’re going to let me find out?”
“Apparently it does. In, baby. I’m in with you.”
“No more warning me away or promising me that I’ll hate you and then trying to make it happen to get it over with.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “That’s what you think I do?”
“I know you do, Reid.”
“As I said. You see too much.”
“I don’t see enough.”
“Well, that’s about to change.” He kisses me. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Reid
My plan to get Carrie out of the office and all to myself after announcing the Grayson Bennett meeting fails. We head for my office door, exit, and Connie is immediately on her feet.
“Where exactly are you going?” she demands.
“We’re headed to the Hamptons for a meeting with Grayson Bennett,” Carrie replies before I have the chance, excitement lifting in her voice as she adds, “This could be huge for us. The deal of all deals.” She’s animated, her beautiful eyes alight with anticipation.
This matters deeply to her, and it matters beyond pleasing the board. I can’t remember the last time anything mattered to me on that level. Until now. She’s making this matter to me on a level I didn’t know anything could matter ever again. I set that bombshell aside for further analysis later.
“Hold all calls that aren’t critical,” I add, “and we’ll need a chopper ready to go in an hour.”
“You mean like your four o’clock conference call with Mercury Bank?” Connie asks. “And before you tell me to cancel it, I’ll remind you that he refused to talk to Gabe and wants you to prove you’re still his man.”
“Right,” I growl, the thundering in my head that comes and goes, hitting me all over again. “That man needs a woman. Maybe then he’ll get over this hard-on for me.”
Carrie laughs, the soft mix of sweet and sexy stirring my impatience to get us the hell out of here and someplace where I can use her as my remedy, “Why the hell did we book that for Friday afternoon again?” I ask.
“You know why,” Connie reprimands, the only damn person other than Carrie, who ever reprimands me, “your client is leaving for Europe for a month tomorrow.”
“In other words,” I say dryly. “I’m taking the call and pushing back our departure.” I glance at Carrie. “It’ll be at least an hour.”
“Let me grab that file I wanted to review with you really quick,” she replies. “Then I can handle the problem while you take your call.” She hurries away.
I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about, but since this is Carrie, I have no doubt, she’ll be making it loud and clear in the near future. I head back into my office and by the time I’m behind my desk, Connie appears in my doorway. “I’ll take care of the chopper and hotel rooms for you both. Do you want me to coordinate a time with Grayson?”
“Let him know the situation. I’ll call him the minute I’m out of my meeting. Do what you have to and then go home. There’s no reason for you to hang around.”
She doesn’t move. “Anything I need to know?”
“Be prepared for press hell on Monday,” I say. “We’re holding a press conference on the Brooks’ case Monday. The deal closed.”
“For a good number?”
“Yes.”
“I’d say congratulations, but the press is your punishment,” she says. “They’ll demonize you in some way, I’m sure. It never ends.”
“Who’ll demonize who?” Carrie asks, joining us again.
“The press comes at Reid no matter what good he does,” Connie explains. “I hate them. I really do hate them.”
“Hate them at home,” I order. “Get out of here, but be in early Monday.”
“Got it, boss.” She heads out of the office and Carrie crosses to set the folder in front of me. “The items you needed are inside.”
Her cellphone rings and she snakes it from her pocket while I open the folder to find four Advil and two Sudafed taped to a piece of paper; her extreme discretion appreciated. She’d been right. I don’t trust easily. I don’t ask for trust either. I’ve done both with Carrie.
“Elijah,” Carrie says, drawing me back to the moment and indicating her phone. “He’s calling me. Reid, I think I should take it and feel out his position. To protect you and us. He might talk to me.”
He will talk to her. He’ll run his mouth and that’s not an option. I’m simply not ready for the hate he could earn me with Carrie. “Talking to him offers him hope that he can turn you,” I say, downing the pills with water before adding, “That empowers him in ways we don’t need him empowered.”
Her phone stops ringing and she purses her lips. “Have more faith in me than you obviously do,” she says. “It also might tell us where his head is now.”
“You know I believe in you,” I say. “You know I do. I know you know that at this point. I’ve shown you that by way of my actions, but you don’t know Elijah like I do. Don’t talk to him.”
“I know this is personal for him and that is always where things get dirty.” She leans on the desk. “If you get hurt, I get hurt. If that doesn’t make you trust me, I don’t know what will.”
“I’m not going to let that happen, Carrie. It’s my turn here. I need you to trust me.”
“I do trust you, Reid, or I’d be gone already, but I need us to do this together.”
“We are. Deep breath, baby. I got this, and I got you.”
“I don’t want you to have me or this. We do this together.”
Connie buzzes in. “Your call is live.”
“I’ll grab it,” I say, and when I’m certain she’s hung up, I refocus on Carrie. “Let’s win over Grayson and we’ll deal with Elijah when we come back.”
“This weekend,” she insists. “We deal with Elijah this weekend. Promise me.”
“I promise we’ll talk about Elijah.”
“This weekend,” she repeats.
“This weekend,” I agree.
“Promise.”
“Promise,” I concede.
“And you never break a promise,” she reminds me, giving me no time to reply. Her, and her perfect backside track across my office and exit, shutting me inside alone.
I reach for the phone, but not without a vow to shut Elijah up no matter what it takes. I’m not losing the only woman I’ve ever wanted to call mine over that asshole.
***
The call lasts every bit of the hour I’d predicted, and the minute I hang up, I dial Grayson Bennett. With the six o’clock hour upon us, we coordinate a nine o’clock dinner at his beachfront home, and I grab my briefcase and head for the door. I find Connie and Sallie already gone, and make my way to Carrie’s office, stepping inside the doorway, to discover her fretting over something on her MacBook screen. I lean on the frame. “Problem?”
Her gaze jerks to mine, the connection between us punching me in the chest. She feels it too, her lips parting, her breath hitching a moment before she recovers. I can almost see her mentally set her reaction to me aside, before
“The Westbrook Project?”
“Yes,” she confirms. “That one.”
“I think it might be, too. I was going to talk to you about it. I did some work on it already.”
“You did?” she queries.
“I did.”
She inhales and breathes out on her reply. “I guess that’s why you’re CEO.”
“You’re at the same place I’ve landed on this, baby. I have some ideas we can debate.” I motion with my head. “Let’s go pack up. We have a chopper waiting on us.”
She shuts her MacBook and stuffs it in her briefcase. “I hope your ideas are better than mine. I’ve been worried over this for an hour with no answers.” She stands and crosses the room to stop right in front of me, but she doesn’t touch me. Those emerald eyes search my face. “You’re still feeling—” She catches herself as if she’s afraid we might be heard. “How are you doing with that situation we were dealing with?”
There’s concern in her face, in her tone. It sideswipes me and hits me as hard as that look we’d shared. When has anyone, since my mother died, worried about me? Why have I let this woman close enough for it to happen? Why do I not want to push back? And I don’t. I say simply, “I’m okay.”
She doesn’t leave it alone. She pushes for more. “Okay?” she prods.
“The edge is off,” I say. “And thanks to the drugs you got me, it happened quickly. That usually means it’s not going to get worse.”
She motions toward the outer office. “Are we alone?”
“Yes. We’re alone.”
She closes the small space between us, lowering her voice, as if “alone” doesn’t make her quite feel alone. “Then I was thinking that surely Royce could get you medication under an alias.”
I pull her to me. “I’m better. It’s under control.”
“This time,” she says, “but what if this means your headaches are coming back? It would be good to be prepared.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought, it seems.”
“Yes, actually. I have. I mean, how are you going to beat Elijah at his game, win over the stockholders, fight the press, and give me unlimited orgasms while battling migraines? That’s impossible, even for a machine like yourself.”
She delivers the words without even a smile, but I laugh. God this woman makes me laugh and I don’t even know what to do with that. “Unlimited, huh?”
“Yes,” she confirms. “I do deserve quite a lot, considering what an asshole you’ve been to me, but I’ll trade you one for one. Maybe if I give you your fair share, you’ll forget how to be an asshole.”
“Maybe,” I tease. “Or maybe not.”
“Probably not,” she says. “But I have to try.”
I sober quickly with her determination, stroking a lock of hair from her face, a crazy, unfamiliar tenderness for this woman overtaking me. “There’s a lot of things I could forget with you, Carrie West, but you might wish I didn’t.”
She catches my hand. “But you’re not going to make that decision for me, remember?”
“I remember. All too well.” I kiss her and force myself to release her for the walk to the elevator. I don’t remember ever having to force myself to let go of a woman, not until Carrie.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Reid
Carrie and I step into the elevator on our way to the lobby and out of the West Enterprise offices, where I will have her to myself. The doors shut, sealing us inside the confined space where we stand side by side, our bodies close but not touching. The floral scent of her teases my nostrils, and I swear I can almost taste this woman on my tongue.
Floors click by and I have never in my life wanted to touch a woman the way I do this one. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking?” I ask without looking at her.
“Does it involve you ripping my panties yet again?”
“Yes,” I say, as we turn to face each other. “But only after I hit the stop button and shove you against the wall. Then I’d yank your shirt up, rip your panties off, and fuck you.”
The car lands on the bottom level and the doors start to open, the sound of voices on the other side lifting in the air. “Another time?” she asks as if I’ve just invited her for coffee.
“Another time,” I promise, winking at her as we face forward to be greeted by two elderly women appearing before us. I hold the door.
Carrie glances over at me, offering me a mischievous smile before she exits the car. I allow the ladies to enter, give them both a nod and then I exit. Carrie is waiting on me nearby, and together we fall into step and depart the building. “Your mother really did teach you manners,” she comments as we start our walk toward our neighborhood.
“Yes,” I say. “My mother really did teach me manners.”
“And your father taught you to be an asshole, or was that just practice because practice makes perfect? You are pretty perfect at it.”
We round the corner into Battery Park, our private space, and I snag her hand, bending our elbows, and pulling her close. “I’ll save that skill for everyone else.”
“Try,” she says. “Really try.”
“Try?” I ask, halting us beside my building and pulling her in front of me. “What does that mean?”
“It means I know that you push back when you feel like I cross an invisible line. We both know that it’ll happen again.”
“And you’ll push back like you did in the office.”
“I push back because you push back.”
“And now I’m trying to pull you close, baby. You’ll see.” I kiss her. “You’ll see,” I repeat and when I lean in to kiss her my cellphone rings. I grimace. “Of course,” I say.
“It could be Grayson,” she warns.
I nod, reluctantly abandoning the kiss to grab my cell from my pocket, glancing at the caller ID, “Connie,” I say to Carrie to put her mind at ease, holding the door to the building for her, even as I answer the line. “Yes, Connie.”
“Grayson offered you one of his private rentals,” she says as Carrie and I start the walk past security and toward the elevator. “I canceled your hotel and I’m emailing you the rental property details. Additionally, I have a chopper booked for your return Sunday night at seven, but that can be changed. Text me and I’ll handle it. What else do you need?”
“A secretary without an attitude.”
“She’d never survive your all-mightiness,” she says. “Knock ’em dead, but don’t get dead. I’ve always imagined that’s for me to do.” She hangs up.
Carrie and I step into the elevator, I punch in the code and pull Carrie to me. “Grayson offered us one of his private rentals for the night.”
“Us? As in he assumes we’re staying together?”
“I doubt he gave much thought to which bed we’d choose to sleep in, and he won’t unless we start costing him money. He’d much rather us be fucking than fighting. Love not hate, baby, and I’m going to give you every reason not to hate me while we’re there. That’s a promise.” The elevator dings and I kiss her. “Come on.” I take her briefcase from her, and lace my fingers with hers, leading her into the hallway, a rich awareness between us.
“Did you look around my apartment?” I ask as we reach my door.
“You asked me that,” she says. “My answer is the same as it was. I didn’t.”
I give her a curious look. “As in, at all?”
“At all,” she confirms.
I pull her in front of me, leaning her against the door. “Why?”
“Still the same answer, Reid. I didn’t want you to wonder about what I saw or thought. I wanted you to know.”
“You wanted me to know,” I repeat, but I don’t wait for a reply. I open the door, and walk her inside, kicking the door shut, rid myself of our bags, and press her to the wall, my legs framing hers. My ha
“Very much,” she says, her hand settling on my chest. “But it felt like an invasion of privacy. I waited for the personal tour.”
Any other woman would have been all over my apartment. “You are never what I expect, Carrie.”
“Is that bad or good?”
I cup her face. “Good, baby. Really damn good.” I kiss her and run my hand over her hip, cupping her backside and pulling her to me, a portion of this day coming back to me and not in a good way. “You were right. I did learn to be an asshole from my father, Carrie, but I’m not him and I hate the idea that I made you feel like I did today. I hate the idea that I made you feel what I know my mother felt.”
“Then don’t do it again,” she orders, her hand closing around my tie.
“I won’t. I promise you. I will never make you feel that way again.” I seal the promise with a kiss, and I let her taste how much I mean those words, and I do. Holy fuck, I do. I want this woman. Some part of me needs her, and when she moans and arches into me it’s all I can do to drag my mouth from hers. I squeeze her backside, inhale before releasing her, catching one of her hands with mine. “No more now. Come help me pack.”
“What?” she asks, breathless. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“But we—”
“Want to fuck? Yes. We do, but we’re going to wait.”
“Why? I mean we—” Her eyes go wide and her hand goes to my face. “Your head. Oh God. I’m sorry, I—”
I cup her hand where it rests on my cheek. “I’m not worried about my head. This is about us. It’s about us leaving for the Hamptons with you knowing that I want to know you beyond fucking, though plenty of fucking is just fine by me.”
“I do know, Reid. I knew when you left me here alone this morning.”
“You don’t know,” I say. “Not after what happened in my office today, but you will by the time this weekend is over.” I lean into her, a hand on the wall, one on her face, while my cheek presses to her cheek, my lips near her ear. “But when I do finally get you alone this weekend, I will own you, Carrie West, and I’m going to make you like it.” I stroke her hair back from her face, forcing her gaze to mine. “You don’t get to run, and I don’t get to push. We’re seeing this through. We’re seeing where this goes.”