Michael Foster was on my radar when I walked into the office shortly after a morning meeting across Manhattan. I greeted Cheryl with a quick hello before settling on Violet, who was focused on something on her computer. She looked up when I walked by, and I paused briefly to scan her pale face. Her eyes shimmered anxiously as she glanced over to where Michael was sitting with an iPad, but I wasn’t fooled when I looked over at him.

His eyes darted immediately back down to the iPad. Little bastard wants to play coy.

I nodded to Violet before stepping into my office. There was no chance that I could keep Michael in my business if he knew, and then already harassed Violet for it. I had to think of a way to get him out or to silence him up permanently. The last thing I wanted was to have word run around the office that Violet and I were sleeping together. It wouldn’t stay internal for very long, either. It would be leaked to the press eventually, and they were always hungry for another Cole Crayton mistress to put in their headlines.

Violet didn’t deserve to have her reputation smeared across the public court of opinion. It was my fault for caving into temptation in the office after spending the past ten years of my life forbidding my employees from engaging in romance around the office. I didn’t want Gloria and Alan to find out through the tabloids that their daughter was no longer a virgin because of me.

I had a whole thirty days before I let Michael go without raising any issues in the HR department. I’m sure that if I dug hard enough that I’d find some reason to fire him.

Tapping my fingers against the window, I came up with an idea then. I stepped out of my office to call Cheryl in.

“Something you need, boss?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Do me a favor, will you? I need to have a conversation with Michael Foster over his performance here at Crayton, Inc.”

Cheryl frowned at me. “Okay? Do you want me to bring him in here or—”

“I’m inviting him to dinner,” I said. “Tell him that I need to speak with him at Jordan’s right at 5:30 in the VIP room.”

“Do I need to make reservations?”

“Just call to tell them when I will be there,” I said, turning to look out at the bright morning lingering over Manhattan. “They’ll know to save that room for me. Could you bring in Violet too, please?”

“Of course,” Cheryl said, and left to go get Violet.

I waited for Violet to enter my office before shutting my office door. Violet swept an anxious glance at me.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t want to bring more attention to us since Michael—”

“I’m letting you know that I’m going to give Michael the opportunity to keep his mouth quiet,” I interrupted with one hand on the door knob to keep it shut. “Has he said anything to you at all this morning?”

Violet shook her head as she leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. It was too quick for anything to spark between us. Which was a good thing. I didn’t need another repeat of yesterday, at least not the part with Violet telling me about Michael. A blowjob did sound fucking nice, though.

I cut that thought out before it could go any further. I let Violet step back out of my office to return to her desk. The rest of the morning and afternoon passed by in a quick blur. The office emptied out quickly as I expected it to on a Friday afternoon.

“I’m going to go,” Violet said when she handed me the last few documents I wanted her to look over. “Do you need anything else before I leave?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll text you if I do.”

I caught her eyes as she nodded in wordless understanding. I had other things to deal with now that Michael Foster was planning to blackmail me. I closed my office to find that Michael was already gone. He had clocked out thirty minutes ago, according to Cheryl, to get ready and meet me at Jordan’s.

Twenty minutes later, my driver pulled up to the curbside of Jordan’s. It was an upscale restaurant and lounge that I enjoyed whenever I was looking for something to entertain myself for the night.

“Mr. Crayton,” Jordan Fitz called out, greeting me at the VIP entrance with a wide smile. “My staff told me you were coming in tonight. I was beginning to worry about you.”

I held out a hand for Jordan to shake. “Just been a bit busy this past couple of weeks and months. Is my room ready?”

“All setup and ready,” Jordan said with a smile. “I placed a good bottle of whiskey in there for you, too, as a compliment on my lounge.”

“You just want me to get drunk here and spend money,” I said with a laugh. I clasped Jordan on the shoulder, though. “Thank you, my friend. I appreciate it. I’m sure my guest will appreciate it, too.”

I walked through the small lounge that only the rich and celebrities were allowed to mingle in. The restaurant was open to the general public, but the VIP lounge was for men like me who wanted privacy about their personal lives. I entered the small wooden room with a table and chairs to pour myself a drink while I waited for Michael to arrive.

It was 5:32 p.m. when the waitress arrived, with Michael following behind. He was dressed up in a nice navy suit with a pink button up shirt beneath it. My blood boiled as he sat down on the edge of his seat across from me, not bothering to shake my hand. A sign of pure cowardliness in my opinion.

“Care for a drink?” I asked.

“A beer is fine,” Michael told the waitress. “I don’t want anything to eat, either. Something tells me that I won’t be very hungry.”

The waitress left the room in a hurry as the tension grew. I waited patiently while Michael shifted nervously in his chair for the waitress to return with a beer.

“So,” I started, taking a sip of my own drink. “I wanted to have an opportunity to talk to you about a few things in the office.”

Michael seized his beer with a trembling hand. He took a large gulp before looking across the table at me. Sweat beaded along his forehead.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asked bravely. “Because there is something that I’d like to talk to you about myself.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the guts of this kid. Blackmailing me was the last thing I was worried about. I was more worried about him harassing Violet with their coworkers around to witness it. I didn’t give a flying fuck to what people said about me.

“How about your internship?” I suggested slyly. “I’ve heard glowing reviews about how well you are doing in the financial department. Might just keep you around for all your hard work.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed at that. “That’s great, sir. I’m just happy to earn my position then, unlike some employees of yours that seem to get special attention from you.”

My fingers curled into fists. It was tempting to lean forward and smack that smug look off Michael’s freshly shaven face. I managed to stomp my temper down before it could get out of control. I had to remain calm now.

“Special attention you say?”

“Yes,” Michael said. “Special attention to one specific assistant of yours.”

“I’m afraid that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied smoothly as Michael’s face reddened. “Cheryl happens to be married and—”

“I’m talking about Violet Summers,” he blurted out loudly. “I saw her coming out of your office yesterday. I heard what the two of you were doing.”

“I don’t think you heard right,” I said coolly. “Do you think it’s wise, boy, to make up rumors about your boss and his personal assistant?”

“Oh, please,” Michael sneered at me. “I know why you gave Violet an internship. I don’t blame you for fucking her. I would’ve done the same thing too if she wasn’t so focused on you.”

I smacked my fist down onto the table. “Don’t talk about Violet in that disrespectful tone, Mr. Foster. You don’t want to go up against me. I can assure you of that.”

“I see that you aren’t denying that there is something going on between the two of you,” Michael continued, oblivious to my rising blood pressure. “You know that everyone in the office thinks the two of you have a thing? The girl looks at you like you walk on water.”

“Violet earned her place because she knows how to do her job,” I said and leaned forward to gaze coldly at Michael. “You listen to me. I’m not behaving inappropriately with Ms. Summers. It’s my word against yours. You understand that, right?”

“I want a raise,” Michael stated, not backing down quite yet. His eyes were darting all over though, a sign of nerves. “A good one, too. If you want me to keep quiet—”

I held up a hand to interrupt him. “Let’s get one thing straight here. I don’t care what others say about me, but I do care about you sharing gossip about Violet to other people. You want a job in the financial sector, so here’s my advice to you.” Michael shrank back in his seat as my voice grew sharp and loud. “If you say one word, or threaten to tell anyone about what you think you saw, I will bring you down quickly. Getting blackballed from Crayton, Inc will destroy your career before it even begins. I don’t care if I go down defending myself because I have money in places you could only dream about, kid.”

Michael opened his mouth to close it quickly. His face drained of color, and he reached up to wipe away the sweat on his forehead.

“And if you harass Violet again,” I started and caught his eyes when they darted back to me. “I will tear you limb after fucking limb. Got it?”

“Got it,” Michael said thickly. He set his half-full beer down on the table and rose to nod at me. “Have a good rest of your evening, sir. I’ll see you at work on Monday morning.”

He fled the room before anything else could be said. I sat back in my chair with a satisfied smile, even though the knot in my stomach was still tied strongly. This was just the beginning of things getting more complicated, but I didn’t want to let go of Violet just yet.

It made feel like a selfish middle-aged man going through a mid-life crisis, but I didn’t care what others thought about me. I had spent a lifetime ignoring what others said about me. Being one of the wealthiest bachelors in New York and Manhattan had a tendency to make me a target for gossip.

Jordan entered the small room after knocking a few times. He glanced at the dark scowl lingering on my face before taking a seat across from me.

“That bad of a night, eh?”

“It’s taken care of now,” I said, taking a sip of whiskey. I gestured for Jordan to pour himself a glass. “When did business and our personal lives get so complicated, Jordan? My personal life is a mess.”

“The divorce has been pretty hard, huh?”

“Harder than you can imagine,” I said, even though that wasn’t the reason for my bad mood. I diverted the subject, though. “How’s business going here? I haven’t checked my interest here for a while, so that must mean I trust you.”

“Busy as usual,” Jordan said as he poured himself a drink. “You can look at the reports yourself when you get a chance. I barely see you down here anymore.”

“Work has kept me in the office.” And so has Violet.

I patted my pants pocket for my phone. There were no new messages besides for a few work emails, but I needed to call her to assure her that everything was fine. Her face had been pale all morning with apprehension. I don’t know what else Michael had said to her, but it had stuck to her.

Anger scorched me again when I thought of Michael’s sweaty, childish face sitting across the table from mine. I didn’t feel an ounce of regret tearing that boy’s balls from him. I had no time to let some young guy think that he could boss me around by dangling Violet in front of me.

“I hear you on that,” Jordan said, letting out a long sigh. “I can’t remember the last time I even went on vacation.”

“Years ago?”

“Years ago,” he repeated with a grimace. “I need to enjoy this money before I’m too old to remember how to even wipe my own ass. I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast this morning.”

“Cheers to that,” I said with a laugh. “Remembering how to wipe our own asses before we forget how much money we have in the bank?”

Jordan clinked his whiskey glass against mine with a grin. “Well, whatever you’re doing that is making you feel so young, I want it for myself. What’s the secret?”

I took a long drink of whiskey before looking up at Jordan with a tense smile.

“If I told you,” I said. “Then your wife would want a divorce. Let’s put it that way.”