My blood pressure was going through the roof as I stormed back into my office.
I was in charge around here, wasn’t I? Why hadn’t I been made aware of this change? It had taken months to train Bethany to my specific needs and demands.
And, now, she was just gone?
Bed rest? Was that a normal thing with pregnancy? Hell if I knew.
What I did know was it put one hell of a kink in my life. And how HR expected that wide-eyed, pretty young thing outside my door to keep up was beyond me.
Damn it all to hell.
I had resorted to pacing now. I didn’t know how many times I’d watched my father do this same thing—pace this exact path through this office as he’d work through problems and solve crisis after crisis.
This was small compared to some of the issues he’d hashed out within these walls. But I was tired, restless, and irritable. I’d already worked a full week, and it was barely half over.
I needed a break. Otherwise, I was going to snap.
Yes, a break…
Grabbing my coat and a few miscellaneous things, I felt more and more confident in my decision to leave with each step I made. As my hand closed over the door, the normal feeling of guilt that would fall upon me when I exited for the day was instead replaced with exhilaration and excitement.
It was the same feeling I’d felt years ago before this building and everything it represented had completely taken over my life.
Carefree Roman was back, if only for a night.
I guess I’d better make the best of it.
Normally, I had an assistant to schedule all of my events, both in and out of the office, even though my social calendar had been sorely lacking as of late. But, if it was a part of my life, then Bethany knew about it.
This new girl though, I didn’t trust her.
I couldn’t even remember her name. Had she told me? I thought I’d blocked the whole event out of my memory. Blowing through the reception area of my office, like a man on a mission, I didn’t even bother with saying good-bye to the woman.
I just left.
Let her figure out what to do for the rest of the day. Consider it her on-the-job training.
As the glass elevator whisked me away from my worries, I sighed, knowing sooner or later, I’d have to train her. It wasn’t like I could pull Bethany and her ever-growing belly from bed rest and demand that she work. I’d probably be sued.
And then I’d really deserve all those nicknames I was known for.
What was really bothering me was, I hated change. And I’d been knee-deep in it for years now—first, with my brother leaving and then with my father getting sick and eventually passing away.
When Jude had returned, everything had seemed to level out, but I had known it wouldn’t last. It never did. Ultimately, something or someone would come in and mess everything up, and my life would be uprooted again.
Training a new assistant was a minor change in the grand scheme of things, but it was one I didn’t have time for. With the board of trustees meeting quickly approaching in a matter of months, I needed all the time I could find to make sure we would be ready.
Because I knew they would all be looking for a reason to replace me.
Hell, I would.
I didn’t exactly have the best track record, and God knew they had a mile-long list of those who could do a far better job—with one hand tied behind their back, no less. But I wouldn’t allow this company to fall into the hands of someone other than me. It said Cavenaugh on the side of this building for a reason. My family had built this company from the ground up. We would always be in control.
But, to do this, I would need a clear mind. I’d been banging my head against a brick wall for far too long, working endless hours on a half-empty tank.
I was in desperate need of a refill.
And there was only one kind of pick-me-up that worked on my engine.
Not bothering to wait for my typical car service, I took a cab back to my apartment, in need of food and a long, hot shower. It had been days since I’d taken the time to eat a complete meal and spend more than minutes in the shower. Both felt like a luxury, which was humorous, standing in the million-dollar penthouse I’d bought back in my easygoing days.
With a full belly and a fresh outlook thanks to a few gallons of hot water, I made a few calls and went to my closet, feeling more exhilarated than I had in months. I took my time, letting the sun set and the evening settle. I had nothing but time tonight. Deciding to dress down, I went with a pair of designer jeans and a green button-down. Feeling confident and eager for the first time in a long while, I finished tying my shoes, slid on my father’s vintage Rolex, and headed out the door, ready for anything.
I had the driver drop me off a few blocks down from the club, deciding I needed some air. I didn’t know how long it had been since I’d just walked without purpose or a desperate need to get from one place to another. With the speed of a ninety-year-old turtle, I strolled the streets of my city, letting the smell of cheap pizza and gasoline fill my nostrils.
It wasn’t everyone’s ideal notion of a hometown, but it was mine. The smog, millions of people, and traffic, all of it made New York home, and although I dreamed of someday living somewhere simpler, right now, I was just happy to be outside.
Away from endless meetings and detailed business models.
Yes, this was exactly what I needed.
The pumping bass from the club grew as I closed in on the block. About twenty or so people stood in line, dressed in their finest, waiting for the bouncer to grant them entrance. This was one of the hottest clubs at the moment, and everyone was dying to get a golden ticket inside, hoping to rub elbows with the rich and famous.
The reason I came?
The women.
Where the celebrities mingled, so did the hot women. And if I was allowing myself only one day out of my cage, then it was going to be a night to remember. I barely had to nod in the direction of the beefy bouncer, Tony, a guy I’d known for years. He’d been doing this gig at more than a couple of local hot spots, and he and I always had an understanding.
Roman Cavenaugh didn’t do lines.
A few groans and curse words were tossed my way as the rope was lifted, and I made my way inside with nothing more than a friendly handshake with Tony. Colossal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Velvet curtains were sectioned-off intimate seating areas for more elite guests. With the lights off, it would have reminded me of the entrance to a grand palace or an opera house. But with the DJ spinning chart-topping music and hundreds of flashing lights moving in every direction, it was like watching the elegance of the old world colliding with the chaotic new planet we’d created.
During our quick handshake, Tony had mentioned that he’d saved a spot for me in the VIP section, due to one of the calls I’d made after my long shower and dinner. I was one of the richest men in the city, but even I wouldn’t just show up here, demanding shit. I could be polite… if the situation called for it.
Not wanting to disappear into the VIP section quite yet, I headed toward the bar, hoping to spend some quality time checking out the scenery. As I approached, I found myself grinning from ear to ear. Women in short skirts and high heels for miles waited, some leaning over the bar for drinks and others dancing to the pulsating beat of the music, and I felt nearly intoxicated. It was paradise, and I was in dire need of a vacation.
The bar was circular and had eight men tending it.
Great, I’d never get a drink.
It was general knowledge that male bartenders earned more tips from women than they did from men, so being a guy at a bar filled with women meant I was practically invisible. I could head over to the VIP section and have a cold drink in my hands in a matter of minutes, no doubt delivered by a gorgeous female, but the whole point to VIP was privacy, and I wasn’t quite ready for that.
I needed someone, or a few someones, to enjoy that privacy with.
Otherwise, it would be just like the rest of my life, only with better drinks and louder music.
“Hey there, need a hand?”
I turned to my left to find a beautiful redhead watching me with captivating brown eyes. I took a moment to blatantly check her out. She wasn’t dressed like some high-class hooker, like most of the women here, but she wasn’t trying for modestly either. The fabric of her black dress flowed seamlessly, barely covering her ass. It gave me a nice view of her more than ample cleavage, too, thanks to two thin straps and a plunging neckline that showcased all of her assets well.
Yes, she’ll do nicely.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked, stepping close to talk over the bass.
A slight smirk developed at the corner of her enticing mouth before she responded, “Seems like you’re in need of a drink.”
“And how might you be of service? Are you going to climb over the bar and make me one?” I said as my eyes briefly caressed her bare skin.
“As enticing as that sounds, I wouldn’t want to break a nail,” she quipped, her smile growing. “I was thinking of something a bit more conventional. How about I flirt with that bartender?” she said, pointing to the one nearest us.
He was good-looking, young. Probably an actor, working his way toward his big break.
Weren’t they all?
“He’s had his eye on me all night. I think it’s time to cash in.”
“And what do you get out of this deal, besides the obvious—a drink and a few compliments from the bartender?” I inquired, quirking my eyebrow in curiosity.
“Well,” she began, “the compliments are always nice to hear, but you’ve got me. I do have nefarious plans. You see, I noticed you when you walked in. And I happened to see you shake hands with the bouncer. Now, I come here a few times a month, and I’ve noticed a pattern. A handshake from Tony means a spot in VIP. Am I wrong?”
I took a long look at her one last time, wondering what angle she might have.
Money? Just sex? Money and sex?
Suddenly, I didn’t care anymore.
“So, how about that drink?” the redhead with no name asked.
“I’ll have a whiskey sour.”
“Done.”
The sexy redhead, whose name I’d learned was Morgan, had kept good on her word, and we’d both had drinks in our hands within minutes. She’d even scored a phone number from the young bartender, who was—as I’d guessed—paying his dues in an off-Broadway play until he made it big.
Him and half of New York.
The longer I lived in this city, the less and less I actually came in contact with true New Yorkers. Everyone was from some small city in some unknown state, looking to make it big. Some, like our bartender, wanted to act while others had loftier goals and wanted to make it to Wall Street.
Whatever it was, the people in this town were hungry for it.
It was why I couldn’t let my guard down or fall behind in business. There were half a dozen guys just like me waiting to take my place, either by buying us out or stomping us out as the competition.
That was why I always beat them to it.
There were no friends in business—at least, not here.
“So, what do you do during the day?” Morgan asked, lounging back in the plush velvet sofa in the VIP area.
After grabbing our drinks and dancing for a bit, we’d headed back to the secluded area, so we could get to know each other better.
I hadn’t actually planned on talking.
“Investments,” I answered. I casually sipped my drink.
I hadn’t given her my real name, assuming she hadn’t given me hers. To her, I was John, the mysterious investment banker, and that was all the information she would get out of me for the evening.
“You don’t like to talk much,” she said as a statement. Her ruby-red lips curved into a knowing smile as she watched my eyes run down the length of her body.
“Only when it’s necessary,” I answered.
“And you don’t find it necessary now?”
“Not really. You made your intentions at the bar perfectly clear. I liked what you had to offer and took you up on it. Is there anything else to discuss? From the brief knowledge I have of you and the vast knowledge I have of myself, I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other past this evening, so in reality, unnecessary words are just prolonging the inevitable.”
Her eyes were calculating as she replied, “And just what does this foregone conclusion entail?”
“A hell of a lot more fun than we’re having now,” I said with a wolfish grin.
“Well…” she said casually. She took time to finish her drink. She set the glass down on the table next to us and rose slowly, letting me appreciate every curvy inch of her. A few steps had her reaching for the privacy curtain, and she pulled the dark velvety fabric tightly behind her. “I guess we should just shut up then.”
There was a reason men in prominent positions in the world were always caught cheating. Sure, one could argue it had to do with power corrupting their brain and whatnot. But when you became a world-class athlete, a senator, or an actor all the paparazzi kept following, there was one thing that was sure to follow.
Stress.
Over the years, women had found endless ways to deal with stress. Yoga, bath salts, and God knew what else.
Men on the other hand? We’d pretty much come up with only one surefire way of dealing with high amounts of stress.
Sex.
Sure, there might be a few granola dickwads out there, saying running or bicycling was the ultimate stress reliever. But, for most of us, a hot and ready female would always win over a 5K any day.
After my little rendezvous with Morgan behind the curtain and multiple shots of whiskey, I felt like a ten-pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Like any red-blooded male, I’d kept my stress from going postal with self-maintenance sessions in the shower, but there was nothing like a little one-on-one action with an attentive female.
But I wanted more—as in, more than one—and Morgan was only more than happy to oblige my request. Feeling greedy and cocky on my one night off from business ownership, we left our little sanctuary and headed out to the dance floor. I wasted no time in scoping out the sea of bodies, searching for just the right woman.
I could see Morgan doing the same. Anticipation was evident in her eyes.
Damn, I’d truly outdone myself with her. If I had the time, I might actually keep her around for a bit of fun and extended stress relief.
Hell, I might still. It had been a while since I’d had a reliable fuck buddy.
We were several songs in, the bass thumping through my chest, as I continued my search. There was no lack of gorgeous women in the club—the bouncers made sure of that—but I just wasn’t feeling it. I wanted something specific.
What? I didn’t know. But I’d know the minute I saw it.
The rhythm suddenly changed as the DJ shifted gears. The crowd went wild, recognizing the popular song that had been playing over the radio for weeks. Morgan moved closer to me, and I grabbed her waist, loving the way her body felt against mine. As her hips moved against me and the music beat on, I was drunk.
Drunk on the power I had. Drunk with the pleasure I felt and the pain I constantly carried. It was all the same in the moment.
My eyes shut for a brief moment, and I let my head fall back, the world tilting slightly.
How much had I drank?
The moment my lids lifted and settled on the dance floor, I saw her.
With beautiful brown hair that effortlessly fell down her back in tousled waves, she patiently waited by the bar for the attention of the Broadway-bound bartender, tapping the tip of her toe against the floor in rhythm to the music. Wearing a sexy emerald-green dress that clung to her figure and glittery gold heels, she was flawless.
But none of that entranced me. She was gorgeous, but every single female in here could be described as such. What made her stand out was that she was trying to be invisible in a crowd that was desperate for attention.
Still dancing with Morgan, I watched as the nameless beauty kept her head low, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She appeared nervous or maybe anxious as she balanced on one heel and then shifted to the other, like she was late.
Or bored.
The whole scene had me completely transfixed.
“I think I’m going to go try my luck at the bar,” I announced loudly in Morgan’s ear, hoping to be heard over the music.
“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” she asked, a mischievous grin forming around her lips.
I shook my head. “I think my luck is about to change. Meet me behind the curtain?”
Her grin widened as she agreed to my plan.
As I took my time moving toward the bar, my eyes enjoyed every raw inch of her as I drew closer—the curve of her hips, the way her dress accentuated every curve. I was nearly vibrating with anticipation.
“You know, I’ve heard, if you flirt a little with him,” I started off, pointing in the direction of the idiotic bartender, who was currently throwing a wide-eyed grin at a group of college girls, “he’ll be yours for the night.”
Her back was still turned to me, but I saw a shake of her head.
“I’m good!” she hollered back, barely making the effort to turn her head.
I caught the side of her face. Tiny freckles dotted her flushed cheek giving her an innocence I hadn’t quite expected.
“I kind of enjoy the entertainment,” she said.
Feeling emboldened by the whiskey swishing around in my belly, I took an eager step forward. “Well, if it’s entertainment you’re looking for, then please, look no further. I’ve got an empty couch in the VIP lounge, an endless wallet for drinks, and… hell, I’ll give you the party of a lifetime.”
Her hand met the tender flesh of my cheek so fast that I was seeing stars before I knew what had hit me.
“Does that crap actually work on women in this city?” she roared. “Because, if so, I feel sorry for my gender for falling for stupid, boneheaded idiots like—oh, shit!”
Her rant was cut short as I straightened myself—or tried to, removing my hand from my jaw long enough to even out my shirt and grab the corner of the bar for balance. The endless shots of whiskey were starting to make their way back to the surface and the room started to spin. The moment she saw my face, she went as white as a sheet and bolted for the crowd.
And that was the moment I chose to black out.