The Seduction 2 (7 page)

“Getting laid,” I growl, gesturing to the
bartender. I’m a regular, so he reaches straight for the Jack,
passing me a generous measure. I slam it down. Hit me again.

“Then you’re in the wrong place.” Maggie
smirks. “Tonight’s ladies night.”

“And?” I look around the room, locking on to
a hot blonde piece of ass in the corner. I’m not here to make
small-talk with Maggie. I want to be alone -- alone in a wet pussy,
that is.

Maggie follows my gaze. “Dream on. You don’t
stand a chance. Me, on the other hand...”

She waves at the blonde, who waves back. It
hits me. Ladies night.

Fuck.

The blonde looks back and forth between us,
and gives a flirty smile.

“We could always share,” Maggie suggests.
“She looks game. Hell, I’ll even let you have her mouth.”

I’m tempted. The blonde is coming our way
now, her tits bouncing. And Maggie may prefer licking pussy, but
she doesn’t mind a good hard dick shoved up her cunt while she does
it.

Yeah, the two of them could be fun tonight,
and fuck knows I need the distraction.

But something stops me. Keely’s face.

“No thanks,” I say with regret. “I’m not
feeling it.”

“Your loss.” Maggie shrugs, hopping down
from the stool. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, that client’s been
calling non-stop, the one about the Keely Fawes case.”

“What?” I tense.

“He’s threatening to demand a refund if you
don’t close the deal with evidence by Monday.” Maggie rolls her
eyes. “What’s stopping you?”

Fuck if I know.

“Do it,” I decide suddenly. “Give him his
money back. I don’t need him riding my ass all the fucking
time.”

“All of it?” Maggie looks shocked. “It was a
ten thousand dollar retainer. Hell, for that, I’ll seduce her
myself.”

“Don’t you dare talk to her,” I growl.
Maggie backs off.

“Whoa, easy Tiger. I’m just kidding with
you. Although, if she swung my way, it might explain why she’s held
out on you for so long.” Maggie must see the fury in my eyes,
because she quickly adds. “Fine, I’ll call him tomorrow. Full
refund.” She salutes, and then heads out to go score with the
blonde.

I down the rest of my drink, on edge. This
hasn’t been about the money with Keely for a long time, but
somehow, even getting the client off my back doesn’t make me feel
any better. Without the contract, I’ve got no pretext to keep
pursuing her.

Nothing except the fact I need that pussy
more than anything in years.

Fuck.

I have the bartender pour me another, but
all the whiskey in the world won’t change a damn thing. It’s not
just about the conquest, she’s under my skin now, and I can’t get
her out, no matter what I do. Those innocent eyes. That smart
mouth. I goddamn like the girl and that’s against every rule in my
book.

I swore I would never let myself care about
anyone again, and for years, I’ve been a fucking machine.
Literally.

No feelings. No commitments. Nothing but
hard cock and wet pussy -- that’s the way I like it. My work
provides a steady stream of willing bodies -- with a built-in
expiration date. I don’t get involved long enough to form an
attachment, and I don’t think about them for a second after I walk
away. It sounds harsh, but that’s how I’ve chosen to live my
life.

Finding your brother balls-deep in your
fiancée will do that to a man.

I peel off a couple of twenties and slam
them on the bar. I find Maggie nestled against those tits in the
corner, but I drag her away. “If I wanted to find some information,
where would I look?”

Maggie glares at me. “Google, dumbass.”

“No, I mean stuff not available to the
public. Legal shit, court documents.”

“Everything’s online, if you search hard
enough.” Maggie shoves me aside. “Now get the fuck out of here,
mama has a date with that girl’s clit piercing.”

I let her go, heading back to my car with a
new mission. I’ve been ignoring the past long enough. It’s time I
made sense of this whole damn clusterfuck.

14

KEELY

I meet Justine for breakfast at a cafe near
the office. Even though I’m technically her client now, I can’t
bring myself to go in for a real meeting. I know how fast gossip
spreads in that place. By now, everyone will know I was fired --
and the terrible accusations against me.

“I met with the executors of Ashcroft’s
estate, and went through this thing from top to toe a dozen times.”
Justine nods at the thick legal document on the table between us.
“You can thank me later, by the way. I had to turn down a date with
Ricardo, that architect I met the other week.”

“You’re the best,” I tell her gratefully.
The sooner I figure out this inheritance mess, the better. “So
what’s the verdict?”

“You, my dear, are freaking loaded.” Justine
passes me a portfolio with a grin. “Take a look. Ashcroft left you
majority stake in the company, that’s where most of the cash is
locked up. You can sell the shares, or use your voting rights,
whatever you like.”

I flip through the papers, still not
believing this. Ashcroft Industries is a huge corporation, with
divisions in shipping, lumber, pharmaceuticals... And I’m the boss
now?

“The old man liked to travel, so you’ve got
property all over the world,” Justine continues. “Houses in London
and Paris, a beach-front mansion in the Caribbean. The main
Ashcroft estate is on the East Coast, some fancy big house with
stables and a lake. And then there’s a crap ton of other rich
people stuff. You know, art, jewelry, a yacht...”

I don’t know. I stare at the pages in a
daze. I feel like I’m looking at a glossy fashion magazine showing
the glamorous life of some complete stranger.

But it’s mine now.

“What about Brent?” I look up, still not
believing this could actually be real. “You heard him. He said he’d
get the will thrown out in court.”

“He can’t. This thing is iron-clad.” Justine
munches on some bacon. “Ashcroft probably knew his kids would flip
their shit, so he covered all his bases. Had three different
doctors sign affidavits to his mental state and judgment, so nobody
can claim he was off his rocker when he named you heir.”

“But that’s great, right?” I feel a rush of
relief.

Justine makes a face. “There’s one thing I
don’t like. The morality clause.”

I blink. “The what?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird,” she agrees.
“Basically, if any of the heirs ‘pursue activities that are against
the moral code of the company,’ they’ll be disinherited and left
with nothing.” She quotes from the paper.

“I don’t get it.”

Justine explains, “Ashcroft didn’t want the
company getting involved in any kind of shady business practices or
morally bad shit. You know, having their drug companies do creepy
human trials, or get child labor orphans in the Third World to make
their products. I get it. I mean, he built the business from
nothing, and didn’t want to see it used for evil.”

“That’s great.” I smile at the thought of
Ashcroft caring enough to make sure his legacy wasn’t
corrupted.

“Yes, but the language is way too flexible.”
Justine points out. “It could cover stuff you do in your personal
life, not just Ashcroft Industries. And who says what’s moral or
immoral? Is Brent going to take you to court if you get a speeding
ticket, or, like, get arrested for something totally bogus? Not
that you need to worry about that,” she adds with a smirk. “You’re
as squeaky clean as they come.”

Except I’m not.

I stare at her in horror, realizing for the
first time what Brent is playing at filing those complaints about
me at work.

“The law firm,” I gasp, my heart racing with
dread. “You know they suspended me.”

Justine waves her hand. “That’s bullshit.
You don’t need them anyway, not anymore.”

I shake my head. “You don’t understand,
they’re investigating me for having inappropriate relationships
with the clients. My employment contract, it has a morality code
too. That’s what they’d use as ground for dismissal.”

“Oh shit.” Justine’s eyes widen as it clicks
into place. “That was the plan all along. If the firm fires you for
unethical behavior, that sets a precedent for Aschroft’s kids. They
can just point to what happened at work, and the decision is
already made.”

“Proof that I’m an immoral slut, even if
nothing happened with Ashcroft,” I whisper, finishing for her. I
can’t believe that they would be so underhand -- or that they’re
probably going to get away with it. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know. At least, not yet,” Justine
adds, seeing my face. “We’ll figure something out, don’t
worry.”

I pause, wondering what can be done. A man
like Brent would stop at nothing, no wonder he looked so smug every
time I met him. He was probably planning this the moment he heard
about the will.

“You know, I didn’t even want this.” I nod
to the folder detailing Ashcroft’s estate. “I didn’t feel like I
deserved it. I don’t know why Ashcroft wanted me to have
everything, But now... “ I feel a spark of determination. “They’re
playing dirty. And that makes me want to fight.”

“Atta girl.” Justine grins. “I’ve got a
couple of ideas up my sleeve that might shut them up.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing I can talk about yet,” she replies
mysteriously. “I’ll let you know as soon as something works
out.”

* * *

Justine has to get to work, so I find myself
totally free in the middle of the day for the first time in years.
I drive over to Beverly Hills and park near Rodeo Drive, strolling
the sunny, palm tree-lined streets in a daze. The people here are
all glossy and chic, in designer clothes and fancy sunglasses, even
if they’re just in work-out gear going to grab a coffee.

This could be me soon. Not that I’d ever
spend two hundred bucks on a pair of yoga pants, I decide. But the
rest of it: the freedom, the security...

I’ve never had a safety net like that, and
ever since my parents died, it’s all been on my shoulders. Rent,
expenses, my job, loans. Juggling it all, just trying to get by. In
one stroke of his pen, Ashcroft could have lifted all the weight
from my shoulders.

And I still don’t know the reason why.

Except there’s one thing that could ruin it
all. Vaughn.

I feel my body tense up at his memory,
already alert, remembering the other night and how he drove me
crazy. My fingers sliding frantically against my own slick nub. The
steel in his tone when he ordered me to my knees with a single
word. And the feel of his massive cock plunging deep into my
throat, so big, I could barely breathe, sobbing over the relentless
spear as his mouth devoured my pussy.

Sweet Jesus, that man makes me scream. But
something was off -- after the scene back at my apartment, he took
off, barely saying a word. And now it’s been almost twenty-four
hours, and I still haven’t heard from him.

Usually, he’s not a man to ever back down.
He still wants to possess me completely, and after the way he’s
chased me, I half-expected him to be calling every five minutes.
Texting, sending flowers. Doing anything it took until I surrender
it all.

I check my phone. No messages.

My thumb moves to the ‘call’ button. I feel
an overwhelming urge to be the one to reach out to him this time. I
tell myself it’s because I need to check about Brent and the
Ashcroft situation: make sure they haven’t tracked down Vaughn and
learned the truth. After all, it’s not just about my job at the law
firm anymore. This is the whole inheritance on the line.

But deep down, I know the truth. I can’t
wait to see him again. Whatever it is that man has that sends me
into such a spin, I crave more of it. I need another fix.

Suddenly reckless, I dial his number. It
rings and rings, and then, voicemail.

“You’ve reached Vaughn.” His voice is sexy,
even on the other end of a phone line. “You know how this shit
works.”

Beep.

“Hi,” I start, feeling weirdly nervous.
“It’s me. Keely.” I pull it together and make my voice calm, “It
would be great to see you again. Maybe dinner--” I stop,
remembering what happened the last time I made him sit through
dinner. “Or not,” I add, laughing. “Unless we want to get arrested
for public indecency. Either way, give me a call.”

I hang up, wondering why he hasn’t called.
This isn’t like other relationships I’ve had with guys, when I’ve
tried to seem like I’m in control, like I could take it or leave it
whenever I like.

We both know that’s a lie.

So where are you, Vaughn? Why won’t you pick
up the phone?

15

VAUGHN

“Either way, give me a call.”

Keely’s voice is teasing and flirty on my
voicemail -- just the thing I can’t deal with right now.

I toss my phone down, and turn back to the
computer screen. Twenty-four hours of research and strong coffee,
and I wish I’d never started this damn chase again. Down the rabbit
hole, with nothing but bad memories to drive me on.

New company with its sights set on
success...

Ashcroft and Partners forge new path for
industry...

Takeovers by Ashcroft and Partners tip them
for the top..

The newspaper print-outs litter the room.
Headlines that track the history of the multinational corporation
back forty years, to when it was just two guys in an office in
Queens, with dreams of making their mark on the world.

I stare at the photo of Ashcroft taken way
back then, when he was still a young man. He’s proudly posing in
front of his first new office with his arm clasped around his
business partner. His friend.

My father.

Fury burns in my chest, or maybe that’s just
the whiskey. Looking at that photo, you could never guess what
would happen to them. How my dad would lose it all, betrayed by the
one man he trusted.