And I wanted to do those things not because he’d saved me—twice—but on the contrary, because for the first time since I’d met him, I recognized that he needed to be saved. From himself.
He disconnected from me, holding my jaw between his fingers and staring me down with his usual air of privilege, thick and heavy, clouded by lust.
“Eight o’clock. A cab will be waiting downstairs. You will wear the same dress, and no bra or panties. You will be mine for the evening. You will not talk back to me, just let me fuck you the way I want to—not because I paid for your shit, but because we both need a distraction. For every sass you give me, I will slap your pussy. For every no I hear, I will deny you an orgasm. Am I clear?”
I nodded, dropping my eyes to my shoes. I loved this part. Being his in a deprived, sick, and tortured way.
“Good. Now go get me a fucking lead.”
She did.
She got me the mother of all leads.
“The Vice President, Brendan Creston, did what?” Kate sprayed her coffee all over her iPad in the conference room.
Judith Humphry was an ambitious little Chucks. She managed the workload of two people. Whenever anyone had a contact or a lead they didn’t want to chase—whether they were too lazy, too busy, or simply unsure if it would result in a dead end—they threw it her way.
“Brendan Creston leaked these compromising emails.” Jude nodded, typing away on her laptop. “Now people are saying the President knew, and they were meant to be leaked. If it’s true, it’s a game changer.”
“How do we find out?” Elijah scratched his head.
“Grill the spokesperson.” Jude’s eyes shone.
I saw the way Elijah looked at her, and I didn’t like it. It was the same way I did, like a jackpot he was eager to hit—hot, smart, ambitious, and compassionate.
“Jude, you’re a natural.” Kate drumrolled on the desk.
Jessica squealed next to Phoenix, and another male reporter next to Jude low-fived her. Everybody was rooting for the new kid.
And I was the one screwing her—both over and her pussy.
“All right, let’s not cream our pants because Judith can read text messages and follow simple leads.” I waved everyone back to work.
Four hours later, we wrapped up one of the most outrageous news shows we’d ever produced, with James Townley’s name blowing up on Twitter like he had a sex tape featuring three NFL stars and a circus clown.
Everyone was talking about #LeakGate.
Coincidentally, the top floor of LBC had never been quieter.
I knew Mathias had brought Jude to my newsroom to stir shit, and in a sick twist of fate, not only had she turned out to be immune to his nouveau riche charm, but she also left mouthwatering news at my office doorstep every single day like a loyal feline.
Granted, knowing my father, I was positive he had more tricks up his sleeve to try to shit all over my progress at LBC.
When I got back home, I scheduled a cab for Judith. Normally, I didn’t liaise with people, but I couldn’t exactly ask my PA to send my reporter back to my building. I still had time to burn, so I went down to the building’s gym, punched a bag, sat in the steam room, and then had a shower. I slid into a pair of dark jeans and a white V-neck shirt and decided I didn’t want Jude to be hungry, cranky, or distracted when I defiled her face and ass, so I figured it would be in my interest to feed her before I had my way.
That was my line of thought as I poured out onto my well-lit street.
Chinese? Didn’t feel like GMO breath all over my cock and sheets. Indian? Potential nut allergies. Greek? You could never go wrong with Mediterranean food, but Lily used to complain that the place took a fucking year to deliver. I briefly entertained the idea of texting Jude and asking, but ruled that out immediately. Last thing I needed was for her to think it was a date.
Instead, I walked the extra ten minutes to the nearest Italian place and ordered every pasta dish on the menu. I’d seen her eating it last night, in what certainly wasn’t one of my finer moments, so she must not be one of those no-gluten, no-flour, no-carbs, no-joy type of girls. Never mind that I was privy to this information because, apparently, I could add stalking to my list of traits.
By the way, picking food for Lily was akin to performing heart surgery on a jellyfish.
When I rounded to my street carrying the bags of food, Judith was already standing at the building’s entrance, tapping her foot and nodding to whatever she was listening to on her phone.
What are you listening to, Chucks?
I wiggled my wrist and glanced at my Rolex. Thirty minutes. It had taken me thirty fucking minutes to get food, during which time she’d been waiting outside the building door. I didn’t have to wonder why she hadn’t called. My phone was set to silent. Newspeople check their phones once a minute, so tolerating the added ping of every message and email was pure masochism.
The minute Judith spotted me, she shook her head and turned the other direction, walking away from me. “You’re a pig.”
Then I hope you like bacon, because I’m on the menu tonight, Chucks.
I didn’t bother defending myself. I was many things, but not a liar. Besides, she was even more gorgeous when she was mad—with her swollen pink lips and dark blond eyelashes and compact everything. She was halfway down my block when she turned around and waltzed back to me, like she’d remembered something. Her frown melted into a look of astonishment.