Page 20

20

PENNY

Tell me what the fuck happened and who the fuck it was. I’ll handle it.

Blinking rapidly to clear the surprise from my face, warmth spreads through my body at his possessive tone. I bite my lip and try to suppress the shiver working its way along my spine from the fire in his eyes and determination in his voice. The relief of him believing me without question fills me with a happiness I wish I could hold onto.

But as stray tears fall, I swipe them away quickly wishing it was that easy for everyone to trust in me. Director Allen didn’t, and there are others just like him. And the fear of not being believed is so strong. Strong enough to keep secrets from the people I love the most in the world. My mom obviously screwed me over in more ways than one, and even though I know the Bradys love me and treat me as their own, there’s still a small, tiny, itty-bitty part of me that thinks what if .

“I won’t tell you his name. And you can’t say anything to the director either. You signed a legally binding document. That reaction is why I didn’t tell the Bradys.”

It’s not a complete lie if there’s an element of truth in it, right? Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking with it. The rational part of my brain knows they would’ve reacted like this, and worse, but there’s still that little voice etched so deeply by past scars that whispers lies. That plants little seeds of doubt. That makes me scared they’ll believe in the lie that I’m just like her.

His body stiffens as his eyes burn a hole through me. “Fine,” he spits out through gritted teeth, shifting closer to me until our legs are barely touching. “Tell me the full story.”

Even though he’s demanding rather than asking, I feel compelled to oblige. The tone of his voice is doing things to me, and I can’t explain why. I just know I like this possessive, dominant side aimed at me.

“The school relies on donations. We’re not funded by the state. A very rich family donates a lot of money annually and the dad hit on me. Of course I turned him down. For one, he’s married. And he’s definitely not my type.”

His eyes are laser focused on my own, a hint of a question flicking through them as I speak, but I ignore it and carry on. “His wife found out and threatened to withdraw all future funding if I continued to teach.”

The anger radiates from him and I shuffle a little closer so my leg is flush against his. I avoid his eyes and clear my throat. “My boss has never liked me. Apparently he liked my mom a little too much, if you get my drift. A little tidbit of information I only found out after I was working for him” He turns his lips down in disgust and I laugh softly. “Yep, my thoughts exactly. But don’t worry, it gets better. He suggested the little situation could disappear if I’d be willing to be a bit more like my mom for him. Obviously I said no. So I was asked to leave quietly and quickly, or he’d start feeding people lies.

“You know no one from the school has reached out to me. People I’ve worked with for years, families I’ve had two or more children come through my class… I’ve heard nothing.” The pain from the betrayal of people I thought were my friends—part of my circle, my community…my squad—burns in my throat and I blink away the tears forming in my eyes. All those years of collaborating, going to happy hours and baby showers, tutoring and mentoring… In the end, I meant nothing to them. And it leaves me wondering if they were ever really friends at all.

His hand reaches over and clasps mine. It’s a small gesture, but it means a lot. I wait for him to place his hand back on his thigh, but, he squeezes it a little and I force my eyes back to his.

“You did nothing wrong. What I want to know is why the wife blamed you when she should’ve been kicking her husband's arse?”

His accent makes me laugh a little, and when I glance back at him, confusion swarms his face.

“The way you said ass made me laugh. You make it sound so formal for a word that literally means your butt.”

He rolls his eyes and fights a smirk. “There’s the Brady side of you we all know and well… quite frankly put up with.”

I stick my tongue out at him, and his responding chuckle radiates through me, leaving a tingle in places that shouldn’t be tingling.

With a quick clear of my throat, I shift again on the hard floor of the elevator. “The woman always gets the blame. Maybe I was too pretty, so I tempted her husband. It’s my fault he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands to himself. Didn’t you know? Us single women are temptresses, and those poor married men just can’t help themselves. It’s never their fault. I thought they taught all you rich business men these things.”

The bitterness is heavy on my tongue, but I can’t help it. I know he hasn’t done anything wrong, but I’m sick of people with money being able to act any way they want and getting everything their way. With a flick of their cheque books, people look the other way about everything.

“I don’t cheat. I told you this already. At board games, at business, or with women. I have no need to. When I’m with a woman, it’s all about her. And if I get bored of our situation, I end it before looking elsewhere. I don’t share, so I don’t expect her to either.”

Holy shit.

I expected him to be angry with my dig. To bite back at me sarcastically, like I’m used to with him. I was not prepared for him to tell me, in the sexiest tone of voice I’ve ever heard in my life, he doesn’t share and likes to please his woman.

Fuck.

The image of him above me, his abs on display, his tongue circling my nipples as his fingers play with my clit, sends heat zinging to my core and a blush to my cheeks. “Well, um, that's, um, that’s good to know.”

A small chuckle and another squeeze of my hand brings my eyes to his. He tilts his head and just looks at me. “It should be.”

I pull my lip between my teeth and watch as he grins.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

His questions makes me frown and I wave my hand for him to elaborate, causing another small laugh which makes me happier than it really should.

“What people think? I know your mum was, well…let’s say a right piece of work. But these people know you and Hank. Surely they’d see you’re more like him than anything, maybe with a hint of Brady thrown in too.”

Another flash of those perfectly straight white teeth has me wanting to fan myself. I sit a little straighter and try to clench my thighs together without him realising. But with his hand resting gently in mine, I give it up as a lost cause.

“It’s easy for you to say. You probably grew up with parents who adored you and each other. I bet people around them didn’t know what their dirty laundry was because, unlike the walking womb I have to call Mom, they didn’t air it in public.”

“Ha. You couldn’t be further from the truth.” The smile’s gone and his lips are a tight line against his teeth. I prefer the smile.

“I’m sorry, I just assumed.”

“First rule of the Elias business school, Miss Richards: Never assume anything about your opponents. It instantly puts you at a disadvantage.” He smiles again, but this time it’s tinged with a sadness I’ve never seen on him before.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise we were opponents, or I was attending school.” He rolls his eyes a little and smirks. “Wanna tell me why my assumptions were wrong?” The hesitation on his face makes me nudge him with my thigh. “Come on, don’t make me be the only one with a shitty origin story.”

A chuckle and a sigh are all that leaves his lips for a second or two, but before I give up all hope of him speaking, he blows out a breath and runs his thumb over my index finger, my hand still clasped in his. The little strokes make my heart flutter. This is ridiculous. It’s such a small gesture, but my panties are soaked through. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched by anyone, he’s sending me into a tailspin. And that’s what I’ll keep telling myself, because I don’t want to admit I’m beginning to really like this sexy, arrogant, douche.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Cliff notes version. My mum saw an opportunity and my dad was a gullible sucker. After she had me, she divorced him and took a shitload of his money. If it hadn't been for my uncle, she would’ve taken a lot more. He was a shrewd businessman and knew how to hide assets.”

I can’t hide my shock. I turn my body to face him, his hand gripping mine tightly still. He keeps his eyes down, looking at our joined hands, avoiding my gaze. Well I’m not having that. Mustering the confidence I know my dad worked hard to instill in me, I reach under his chin and with my free hand bring his head up to look at me.

His eyes are guarded but warm, and I let my hand linger on his cheek for just a second, liking the way his stubble feels against my palm. “I’m sorry I assumed. Turns out we have more in common than I thought.”

Without a flicker of warning, he tugs on my hand—the one he hasn’t let go of throughout our conversation, and that I’ve made no effort to remove from his grip—and I fall forward slightly, the hand on his cheek landing on his chest, our lips millimetres apart.

“I think we have a lot of things in common. I mean, we both think I’m ridiculously handsome.” I scoff before his smile dazzles me and a flame of heat licks my cheeks. “And I think we both want the same thing right now.” His voice is filled with a huskiness that sends shivers through me.

“And what’s that?” I lick my lips as the whisper ghosts over his.

“This.”

His lips press against mine, and I can’t help the low groan from my throat as his tongue strokes across the seam, enticing them to open. He elicits another moan from me as he gently tugs on my bottom lip, and I finally dip my tongue out to let it stroke against his. Maintaining his grip on my hand, keeping us close, his free hand cups the back of my neck, tilting my head to get a better angle for his lips to continue their pleasurable assault on mine.

A jolt of the elevator and a flash of bright light forces my senses back to reality. I’m kissing my boss.

Double fuck.

A sudden flame of embarrassment flies through me and I jump away from him, ripping my hand from his in the process. Scrambling to my feet, I regain my senses just in time for the doors to open. Grabbing my bag and coat from the floor, and without a second glance back, I stride through the lobby muttering, ‘shit, shit, shit, shit’ to myself as I go.