Tempted by the Boss (Tempted Series Book 1) (2 page)

I could never take my eyes off a woman putting panty hose on. I
think it had something to do with the way they had to drag their fingers up
their leg at the exact speed I liked to drag my tongue across their body.

I propped myself up on the pillows. “You’re sure you don’t want
to cuddle?”

“Cuddling is for married people,” Laura said, working her
hosiery over her toned ass. “And we aren’t married anymore.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” I folded my hands behind my head. “Your
lips on my dick was enough of a reminder of that.”

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Inappropriate.”

I laughed. “Yes it was, and I loved every minute of it.”

She stood at the end of the bed and began buttoning her white
collared shirt. “I just needed to blow off some steam.”

“By blowing me off?” I could feel my body getting excited all
over again. “I’m so glad I could help.”

“Don’t be an ass.” She flipped her blond hair over her
shoulders. “You relieved some pressure for me, too.”

“What can I say? I’m a nice guy.” I patted the bed next to me.
“You still seem stressed, though. You’re sure you don’t want to unload some
more?”

She put her manicured fingertips on the comforter. “Actually, I
am having problems with the people who are supposed to do the hallway sconces-“

“I meant on my cock.”

She sighed. “Are you really ready to go again?”

I smiled. “Don’t act surprised. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

“I’m not surprised. I just don’t know where you find the
energy.”

“I didn’t work out this morning.”

“Oh well that explains it, but you really shouldn’t skip
workouts. It makes you all ragey and intense.”

I shrugged. “I worked you out at least.”

“Yes you did.”

“Just so we’re clear, it’s no cuddling- just sex- and only when
you feel like it?”

“Yes,” she said, pushing the links from what looked like a new Cartier
watch into place.

“So is this just about screwing me as much as possible?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Don’t act like you even miss
the money.”

“I don’t.”

“Good. Cause I work my ass off for you.”

“I know.”

“And it’s only fair that the divorce is on my terms.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because our marriage was always on yours.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” She walked up to the head of the bed. “Besides, don’t
you think our relationship works so much better this way? We both get what we
want, and we don’t have to fake wanting more from each other.”

“I suppose.”

She pointed at her skirt on the far side of the bed.

I reached over and grabbed it for her.

“Thanks.” She stepped into it, pulled it up, and began tucking in
her shirt. “Don’t pout. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“You were doing your angry gorilla face.”

“I was just wondering-”

“What?”

“Why we didn’t work out.”

“Because I always came second.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is.”

“No. It’s not,” I said, rolling onto my side. “You came first
sometimes.”

“I didn’t.”

“How can you say that? You came first ten minutes ago.”

She smiled. “Yes I did.”

I knew I didn’t love her anymore, but I still loved it when she
smiled.

“You fell out of love with me,” she said. “And the sex was
great- is still great- but-”

“But what?”

“You’re emotionally unavailab-”

“Don’t start with that crap. Just because that psycho said that
one time yo-”

“Psychologist.”

“Whatever.”

“Not whatever, Will.”

I sighed.

“If there’s anything I learned from spending time with you it’s
that it’s okay to want it all.”

“You just didn’t want it all with me?”

She pursed her lips. “I was an accessory for you. Not a wife.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “We don’t want the same things.”

“You don’t think I want love?”

“No. I don’t think you even know what love is.”

“That’s not fair.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I do think it’s the reason you’re so
successful in business, though.”

I ran my fingers through my hair.

“And I think it’s the reason you’ll achieve your goal of owning
the best luxury hotel chain on Earth.”

“Because I’m incapable of love?”

“Don’t get upset.”

“I’m not upset. I just want to understand.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right girl.”

“Maybe I did and she fucked the pool boy?”

She folded her arms. “I don’t appreciate that.”

“I didn’t either.”

“Are you ever going to stop throwing that in my face? I was in a
bad place!”

“No shit. I wouldn’t have wanted to be in the pool boy’s pants
either.”

“You sent me to Dubai for six months!”

“To do your job. Not the pool boy.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t bring that up anymore.”

“Oops. You promised to be faithful.”

She sighed. “I will always be sorry for how you found out about
that blip.”

I shook my head. “That blip. You’re unbelievable.”

“So are you, honey.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the
forehead. “That’s why we make such a great team.”

“What are you wearing to the launch party?”

“I can’t go.”

“What are you talking about?” I sat up. “You have to be there.”

“My Dad’s taken a turn for the worse.”

“Is he all right?”

“At the moment he is, but I have to go to Florida this weekend.
Just in case.”

“I’m sorry. You should’ve told me. You could’ve gone down for
the week.”
And not missed the fucking party.

“You don’t mean that,” she said, slipping her feet into her
heels. “Plus, you wouldn’t have had a hotel to celebrate if I didn’t work this
week. Not one with lighting anyway.”

“Give your parents my best.

She nodded.

“And if they need anything just-”

“Thanks. I will.”

I closed my eyes and listened as she walked down the stairs and
let herself out. Was she right? Was I incapable of love? I didn’t think so.
After all, I loved my job and every one of my hotels. I loved working out. I
loved sex. I loved eating in fine restaurants and traveling and jazz. And I
loved women. Generally, though. Not specifically.

But Laura was right. I didn’t love her. I don’t know if I ever
did. Even before she fucked that Arab pool boy. Pathetic.

I loved that she was smart. I loved her long legs and the fact
that she was absolutely cut throat at her job. But as a person I didn’t love
her any more than I loved calamari. I wouldn’t give calamari up for her or
anything.

Was that love? Compromise? That’s what that psycho told us. That
I had a compromising problem. Even though no one compromised our marriage more
than she did with her pills and her pool boy. If I ever did love her, she had
beaten my love to death with drama and deceit.

The only reason I still fucked her was because it was so easy
for both of us. She was good at it, and I didn’t have time for a relationship.
Not that I couldn’t make time if I wanted to. I could do whatever the fuck I
wanted whenever I wanted. And I could probably do whoever the fuck I wanted,
too.

But I couldn’t remember the last time I met a woman that really
excited me. I met gorgeous women all the time in my line of work. Gorgeous rich
women and gorgeous working class women. But they were all so predictable, so
needy. I could imagine a whole shallow relationship with them in the time it
took to jack off to their memory. So I didn’t really see the point in putting
in the effort.

Someday when my hotel empire was where I wanted it to be, I
would have more time to look for love. More time to compromise. After all, I
took care of myself. I still had my looks and my hair. I had plenty of time to
meet someone special. And when I did, I would make her mine and that would be
that.

But at the moment I had more important things to do.

There was actually a red carpet when we showed up. It ran all
the way from the doors of the hotel to the curb.

“Don’t just sit there.” My Mom nudged me from the other side of
the cab. “Get out already.”

“Oh right. Sorry.” I thanked the driver and as I opened the door,
I realized that getting out of the car required all of my concentration. My
shoes were so high I’d avoided wearing them ever since I bought them, and I had
absolutely no faith in my new strapless bra. I pulled my dress up while my Mom
got out of the cab after me.

“Don’t yank your dress like that.”

“Leave me alone,” I said. “If I’m going to flash everyone, it’s
going to be at the end of the party.”

She linked her arm in mine and we walked towards the door.
Between her bad hips and my proficiency in high heels, I was worried we might
never reach the entrance, but when we did, two doormen in immaculate suits
opened the double doors for us. As soon as we stepped inside, I felt warmed by
the champagne colored entry way. It was all I could do to keep my mouth shut
while I looked around. Right in front of us was the largest bouquet of flowers
I’d ever seen in my life. In fact, I don’t think bouquet is even the right
word. It was like a garden growing out of the middle of the table.

“Look at that chandelier,” my Mom whispered to me as we followed
the people in front of us. “It’s bigger than my car.”

She was right. The chandelier was not only bigger than her car,
it was prettier, too. And it didn’t look like any of its lights were out.

I assumed we were going in the right direction because the music
was getting louder. Of course, it wasn’t like any music I’d heard recently in
the college bars I was used to going to. It sounded like a live jazz band.

“Good evening,” a young woman said when we’d reached the table beside
the open doors. “Can I have your name, please?”

My Mom cleared her throat. “Barbara Riley.”

The woman looked down at a clipboard in front of her and then up
at me.

“And this is my daughter Ella. She’s my plus one.”

“Table 16,” the woman said with a smile. “That’ll be two from
the end on the right side of the room.”

“Thanks,” I said, deciding not to make a joke about needing a
map. Which was a good thing, too, because when I saw how big the ballroom was,
she might have thought I was serious. I couldn’t believe how beautiful
everything looked from the table settings to the flower arrangements.
Everything was so professional, so flawless. It was exactly the kind of party I
hoped I would be able to organize someday.

“Aren’t you glad you came?” My Mom asked as she took her seat.

“I am, yeah. This is fabulous.” I hung my shawl on the back of
my chair and located the bar. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m fine with water-”

“Have a drink, Mom.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

“What would you like?”

“Something sweet.”

“Right.”

“And not too strong.”

“I’m on it.”

I made my way across the dance floor towards the bar and ordered
two glasses of champagne. I normally only drank cheap champagne on New Years’,
but this was a special occasion. While I waited for the drinks I noticed two
men talking at the end of the bar. One of them had his back to me but the other
was really handsome. He had one of those chiseled faces that looked good in any
light.

I looked back across the dance floor to make sure my Mom was
okay. She looked like she was chatting to some people that had just arrived at
our table.

“Hello.”

I jumped.

“Sorry,” the handsome man said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay- I just- I thought you were- over there.”

He smiled. “I was, and I’m flattered that you noticed me, too.”

I felt myself blush.

“What brings you here tonight?”

“My Mother is a friend of Mr. Abbott’s. I’m her plus one.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. He’s done a lot to help her charity.”

“And what charity is that?”

“The Nest. They help the homeless.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that.” He leaned against the bar with
his elbow and faced me. His chest was so broad it made the entire room behind
him disappear. “And what do you do?”

“I’m actually just between jobs right now. I’m hoping to find
something more relevant to my major.” The bartender put two glasses of
champagne on the bar in front of me. “Thanks.” I turned towards the handsome
man and whispered. “Is this the kind of place where you leave a tip?”

He shook his head. “No. I think you’re supposed to save your
money for the charity raffle.”

“Right, thanks.”

“Plus, I heard Mr. Abbott pays his staff more than fairly.”

“Of course. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He lifted a finger at the bartender. “What
did you say you studied?”

“Hospitality and event management.”

“Wow.” He looked around. “What do you think of this party so far
then?”

“It’s okay,” I lied. “I’ve been to more impressive ones, but
this is definitely up there.”

His eyes sparkled for a moment. “Maybe it’ll get better after a
few drinks.”

“Hopefully.”

The bartender set a drink down in front of the handsome man who
acknowledged him with a single nod before lifting his clear beverage and gesturing
towards my glass.

“What are we toasting to?” I asked.

“To you finding a job before midnight.”

I laughed. “I like your optimism.”

“I like your eyes.”

I felt a lump in my throat, but I was able to wash it down with
champagne.

“That’s the best champagne I’ve ever had,” I said, tilting the
glass in front of me.

“I’m glad you like it.” He raised his hand towards the
bartender. “Jaime, will you send a bottle of Veuve over to Table 16?”

“Of course, sir.”

I stared at him. “How did you kno-”

He stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Plus One.”

“Ella,” I said, reaching for his open palm. As he shook my hand,
I swear it felt like he was pulling me towards him, and I teetered on my tip
toes as I tried to stand my ground. “Nice to meet you, too…”

“Will. And I assure you the pleasure is all mine. Now if you’ll
excuse me for a moment.”

He walked past me and I turned to watch him. His suit pulled
perfectly between his shoulders with every step as he made his way towards a
woman with a headset and a clipboard at the end of the bar. She looked slightly
impatient as if she’d been trying to get his attention for a while, but I
hadn’t even noticed him see her. It had felt like his eyes had been on me the
whole time.

I floated back to the table in a daze.

“Are you okay?” my Mom asked. “You look… flushed.”

“I’m fine.”

“Was that William you were talking to?”

“I think so.” I pulled my chair out. “He’s going to send a
bottle of champagne to our table.”

“I told you he was lovely, didn’t I? Didn’t I tell you he was
lovely?”

“You did.” I sat in my seat and took another sip of champagne.
“I thought he’d be older.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I thought he’d be old.”

“He’s too old for you.”

“He’s not too anything for me.”

 She squinted at me. “Very funny.”

“He does look really young, though.”

“Of course he does,” she said. “When you have as much money as
he does, what do you need wrinkles for?”