“James, it’s been thirty minutes. You’re telling me you can’t find my father?” he asked him.

James shifted nervously in front of Connor’s desk. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been trying—”

“Nobody’s paying you to try, James,” Connor said. “Screw this, I’ll just go find him myself.”

“But, sir, you need to prep for the afternoon meeting. And I have some documents that need signing—”

“Who’s in charge here? You, or me?” Connor asked. He looked down at James’ hand on his arm.

James gulped and slowly removed his hand. “You, sir. As you wish.”

Connor was frustrated. The one time he actually needed to get hold of his father for a pressing business matter, and the bastard was nowhere to be found. He walked swiftly around the floor to his father’s wing and burst into the reception area.

“Oh! Connor, your father is indisposed—” His father’s receptionist stood up and waved at him.

“Is he, now?” Connor asked, and rushed to his father’s closed office door.

Connor flung the door open, only to find Sandra spread-eagle on his father’s desk with her skirt hitched up to her navel. Her tits hung out of her blouse while his father pounded into her, his trousers at his ankles.

“Connor!” she gasped, and rushed to cover her breasts.

His father turned slowly, as his fat and saggy ass jiggled below his button-up shirt. “I thought your mother taught you to knock,” he said.

“What,” Connor began coldly, “the fuck is going on here?”

“I—I came looking for you,” Sandra said as she pushed herself away from his father and pulled her skirt down. “This isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

“It’s not what it looks like?” Connor said quietly. “It’s not what it looks like?” He could hear his voice start to raise, but he couldn’t stop it. His father’s receptionist shut the door behind him.

“It’s not! I swear,” she said. “I—I came here with a proposal for you.” She started to cry, but her bullshit didn’t work on him anymore. “I’m sorry! I want you back. I came to ask for you back. And then—”

“I figured you were too busy with your magazine shoots or whatever,” his father said. He pulled up his trousers and lit a cigar. “So I took her up on the offer. One of us may as well benefit.”

“You piece of shit,” Connor said. His fists were clenched, knuckles white.

“You know what I don’t get, though?” his father asked with raised brows. “This girl here, she says her name is Sandy. Seems you have a thing for girls with similar names. Is that just a coincidence, I can assume?”

Connor’s mind reeled. Sandra pulled at his arm, mascara streamed down her face. Be careful, be careful what you say.

“I used to want to be like you,” he told his father. “Or, at least, be as rich as you. But you’re disgusting, you know that? You filthy fuck.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way, boy, you understand?” His father made a move for him, surprisingly fast, like one of those bulls in Central America that gets a hot pepper stuck up its ass during a rodeo.

Connor lunged away from his father instinctively, putting the massive oak desk between them.

“Stop it!” Sandra screamed from the corner of the room. Connor glanced at her and saw one of her breasts still hung out of her shirt.

“You shut the fuck up, you useless bitch,” his father told her. From the opposite end of the desk, he eyed Connor. “That the best pussy you could pull? It was subpar at best,” he said. “Maybe that new one of yours is better. In fact, I’m sure she is. I’ll have to sample it for myself.”

“Fucking asshole,” Connor said, and he raced around the desk at his father—who didn’t move or even flinch.

“What are you going to do?” his father asked. A mean smile unfurled from below that waxed mustache. “Hit me? Try it. See what happens. See if I don’t cut you off in a second.”

Connor breathed heavily, but some practical part of him must have been listening. “What about Mom…”

“Your mother? Your mother knows all about it!” his father said. “Boy, you really are thicker than I thought. But if you want to make her more miserable, give her all the gory details, be my guest.”

Connor growled, shocked at the raw noise that erupted from his throat.

“You listen to me. And listen good. If you step out of line, in any way, you’re done. You hear me?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Connor said. He turned on his heel and started toward the door. Sandra, still sobbing, started to hobble after him.

“Think about all you have to lose,” his father said, his voice almost lyrical. Connor stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Your trust fund. Your job. Your inheritance. Sean might be a drunk, but I’ll leave it all to him in a minute if you cross me.”

“You wouldn’t,” Connor said softly.

His father laughed. “You want to bet on that? And if you’re thinking you can make it on your own, I won’t stop there. I can make sure you can’t get a job higher than mall security if you screw with me. Not here, not anywhere. Hell, I can even stop you from reenlisting if I’m so inclined.”

Connor’s breath was shallow.

“Of course, I might not do that,” his father said. “No. I might just let you run right back into the Navy. And you can die in that hellhole overseas for all I care.”

Connor didn’t respond, but opened the door calmly. He could feel the wary gaze of the receptionist as she watched him, worried that he was about to do something rash.

“Connor,” Sandra said as she followed him down the hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her button up her shirt and do her best to walk in just one shoe. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You make a scene in front of the office, and I’ll slit your goddamned throat,” he hissed at her. She snapped her mouth shut, but continued to follow him. He didn’t dare tell her to leave, lest it cause a scene.

James was open-mouthed as he watched Sandra trail Connor into his office. “Should I bring some tea—” he began, but Connor held up his hand to him.

Sandra shut the door behind her. “I’m sorry—”

“You’ve said that already. Quite a bit,” he said. “What the fuck are you doing here, Sandra? And what the fuck were you doing with my father?” He balled up his fists again and paced back and forth in front of his desk.

“It was all so confusing,” she said with a sniffle. “He told me—he told me you were engaged. Already. I didn’t believe him, so he showed me some pictures… who is she?”

“You have no right to ask me that,” he said, and looked at her sharply.

“You’re right. Sorry. But he… he told me that you’d already moved on. And so, I figured I’d lost you for good. I was… I was going to leave, then he propositioned me with—”

“With what? Are you a whore now? A real, bona fide prostitute?”

“No!” she said. Fresh tears appeared at her eyes. “But he just… I mean, it was a lot of money.”

“How much?”

“What?”

“I’d like to know how much my ex-fiancée is going for on today’s market.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

She bore her toe into the plush white carpet. “Three thousand.”

“Three thousand dollars. You fucked my father for three thousand dollars.”

“Well, not really—”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you kind of walked in on us before he gave me the money. So, really, you owe me—”

“Fuck off, Sandra,” he said, and shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re such an asshole!” she yelled.

James popped his head inside. “Everything okay, sir? Do I need to call someone?”

“Call someone?” Sandra screamed, and turned on James. “Yes! You can call the goddamned HR department to cut me a check—”

“Call security if you don’t see her walk out of here within ninety seconds,” Connor told him.

“Yes, sir,” James said, and clicked the door shut.

She turned to Connor, utter confusion clouded across her face. “How could you?” she asked. “I’m your fiancée. We were supposed to get married in a few weeks. You act like you never loved me at all.”

“No, that’s you,” Connor said. “Leave, Sandra. And don’t ever contact me again. Trust me, it’s in your best interest.”

“I won’t—”

“Would you rather security carry you out?”

She looked him up and down, and tried to decide if he was serious. “Fine,” she said.

Sandra turned, as poised as she could manage with one shoe, sex hair and a mascara-stained face, and marched out.

Connor sighed. Why did you do that? You hate this goddamned job anyway, you should have just walked out of here for good.

“That was a crazy one,” James said. He carried a pot of chamomile tea on a silver tray.

“You’re telling me,” he said. “Thanks.”

It was a miserable job, mostly, but there were certainly benefits. Just play it cool, just a little while longer. Don’t let him get to you!

“James. Did you know? Did you know what my father was doing?” he asked, and looked at James’ back.

James turned slowly. “I knew he was doing unspeakable things to a young woman in his office,” he said. “I didn’t know you knew her.”

“I don’t just know her,” Connor said. “She’s my ex-fiancée.”

“Yes, I—I gathered that from what she just said in your office.”

“Oh. You heard that, huh?” he asked, suddenly embarrassed.

“I’m afraid—your father’s office is soundproof. Yours is not.”

“So… how many people heard?”

“I can’t be certain, sir,” he said. “Probably not a lot. It’s nearly the lunch hour—”

“Thank you,” he said. “You can go.”

James shut the door, and he buried his head in his hands. Let this be a reminder. You can’t trust a single damn female, especially around your father. No exceptions. But what about Sam?

He groaned as he thought about it, and especially at the threat his father had made about her. But she wasn’t like that. There was no way Sam would do him dirty like that. Would she?

His leg shook as he weighed the information in his head. He thought he could trust her, for the most part. What he knew about her. Then again, she was getting paid to play the part of his fiancée. Fuck. What am I supposed to do?

He couldn’t exactly keep Sam away from family functions. That would look suspicious as hell. But he also couldn’t trust his father around her, and he didn’t know how much he could trust her. If Sandra would screw his dad for three thousand, what was Sam’s price?