Chapter Fifteen

Carrie

I hate him.

I want him.

I hate him and the fact that as I walk into my office, my blouse gapes with my missing buttons. And I smell like him, all earthy and raw. I don’t let myself think beyond hate because there is more, so much more, beneath my surface that I don’t want to exist. I grab the sewing kit Sallie keeps in my drawer, which I would not have without her because she’s everything I am not, which makes us a perfect pair. Reid and I are not perfect at anything but hate. Not even close. Nor is the repair work I do on my blouse with a safety pin, but at least, my breasts are no longer on display.

I pack my things and I head for the door. I’ll deal with the terminations from home. I’m walking out of my office toward the lobby in two minutes. I want space between me and Reid, who I just had sex with. I’m a crazy person. I’m not fit to be CEO. I can’t even keep my clothing in place. I step into the elevator, relieved when it shuts and Reid doesn’t show up, but Lord help me, I’m disappointed, too. I don’t want him to be an asshole. I’ll analyze that later, much later. Once I’m in the lobby, I talk with security about the terminations and then I am gone.

I exit to the street, and I am incredulous at what an ass Reid really is. And I didn’t like it when he smacked my ass. Not really. Not that much. Never again! I cross the street and enter the park area where Reid also lives. How is that even possible? How many times have we passed each other and not cared? I continue this line of thinking all the way to the front of the building where I notice the restaurant that I love has been shut down by the fire marshal. I don’t even want to know what that means since it’s almost directly under my apartment.

I step onto the elevator, deciding I should call and ask what happened, but then why? No matter what I told my father, I have to be smart. I’m not going to feel secure again anytime soon. I have to sell my place. I’m going to be gone soon. The ride is forever, and I manage to conjure an image of Reid between my legs. I know why he let me come. His ego is too damn big to risk me thinking he couldn’t get the job done. I think I’ll tell him that. I grab my phone to call him and thankfully the elevator dings me back to my senses. I stick my phone back in my purse.

Ten minutes later, I’m in my kitchen with my files spread over the top of the navy granite countertop with my computer open. I open my email and download the report Reid sent me and start reading. It’s bad. I kick off my shoes and drag my fingers through my hair. I can’t just fire these men. It’s not enough. I glance at the name and number on the report: Royce Walker. I dial him.

“Royce Walker,” he answers.

“Hi Royce,” I say. “This is Carrie—”

“West, you got the report.”

“Yes. Thank you so much for catching this. I need to go to the police. I need permission to use your data.”

“I can handle it all for you. Reid said it was your call.”

“You mean Reid was testing me to find out how I’d handle this? He’s such an ass.”

Royce chuckles. “Well perhaps, but he predicted you’d want to go to the police. I’m a former FBI agent and our team is a mix of law enforcement and special ops military. We’re connected. We can deal with this so you don’t have to. I can even fire them.”

“Oh no. I want that pleasure. I just wish I would have found out in time to do it at the office today in person, but my question is this: Should I fire them? Or should I talk to the police first? Do we have enough to ensure they go down?”

“We have plenty to take them down. Let’s just get rid of them.”

“Okay.” I’m silent for a few beats. “You investigated me.”

“Yes. Something you want to know?”

“I know everything about me, so that’s not necessary. Did you investigate my father?”

“Yes.”

“Why did he take those deals?”

He’s silent for a long moment. “You don’t think it was bad judgment?”

“He’s never had that kind of bad judgment. A few bad calls, yes, but this wasn’t that. Why?”

“Even if I had an answer,” he says, “and I don’t, it would be a conflict of interest for me to tell you. I work for Reid.”

“Can I hire you? I need to know why.” I need to know what’s in Montana that made him rush there the minute he had my money, I think, because this land deal feels off. “He didn’t even stay and fight,” I add.

“If Reid—”

“Never mind. I get it. You work for him. Thank you anyway. I have three men to fire. I’ll text you when it’s done. Goodnight.”

“Carrie.”

“Yes?”

“Talk to Reid.”

“Talking is what we don’t do together.”

“I’ll talk to him. Text me.” He hangs up.

I dial the first of the three thieves, and it’s all quite easy. “You’re fired. You know why.” Those three words work all three times. Lucky threes. I text Royce: It’s done. And with that, I’m a ball of nerves that has me changing into leggings and sneakers for a run, my way of calming my mind. I pop in my headphones, turn on a music mix, and head downstairs. Once I step out into the now inky night, the touristy crowd has thinned out and I make my way to the sidewalk, running along the ocean and all the buildings. I skip my stretches, which will give my mind time to get the best of me.

I take off running, cranking up my music, and still, I’m in my head. I’m back in Reid’s office. I’m reliving every moment with him. I thought—God, what did I think? It was hate sex and nothing more, and yet when it was over, he didn’t want to let me go. I felt it. I didn’t want to let him go. And then he did, and I still don’t know why I want him at all. I think more of myself than to sleep with a man that—

I run into someone and gasp as Reid catches my arms, and he too is in running clothes, sweats, and a T-shirt. “Are you stalking me now?” I demand. “Was investigating and fucking me not enough?”

“No,” he says. “That’s the problem. It’s not.” He’s barely spoken the words and his hand is cupping my head, his mouth closing down on mine, his tongue licking against my tongue and I want to resist. No. I try to resist, but there is something about Reid. Something that calls to me even as he punishes me, tries to control me and generally treats me like shit. I want this man, and I can’t stop the want. I sink into the kiss, and he moans, like he needs this as much as I do, his hand flattening between my shoulder blades, molding my chest to his.

I am lost in this man, how he feels, how he smells, every lick of his tongue and then suddenly, he’s lacing his fingers with my fingers. “Come on,” he says, stroking a hand over my hair and caressing my cheek.

I’m dazed by the gentle touch to the point that when he starts walking I follow, but a blast of ocean air has me blinking into reality, digging my heels in, and tugging against his hand. “Wait,” I say, pulling him around to face me. “Where are we going?”

“My place.”

His place.

Yes.

No.

“No,” I say, rejecting how close I am to letting this man own me in all ways. “No. I’m not going to your place.”

“Then we’ll go to yours.” He starts walking.

“No,” I say, trying to dig in my heels again, but he keeps walking. “No!”

He rotates to face me and before I know his intent, he’s kissing me again, and damn it, I want him to kiss me again. I don’t resist. I melt into him. I kiss him back. And when he pulls back and strokes my hair again, he says, “We need to be alone.”

My hand firms on his chest. “Alone is the last thing we need to be. I can’t do this, Reid. I won’t do this.”

“It doesn’t seem to me that either of us has a choice.”

“You,” I say, “have many choices, many of which involve me. I have two. Stay or go. And right now, I’m going.”

“Let’s go talk,” he says. “Just talk.”

“We won’t talk. We’ll fight or fuck, and neither of those things work in my favor. Let me go, Reid, or I swear to you I’ll start screaming.”

“We both know you won’t do that.” His eyes harden. “But if that’s what you want, I’ll let you go.” He does. He lets me go and I should be pleased, but I’m not. I hate that he let go. I hate he didn’t fight me on this as much as he fights me on everything else, but why would he? It’s a fuck. He, no doubt, has a proverbial black book of women. He’s Reid-fucking-Maxwell.

I step around him and start walking, steady and controlled though I don’t feel controlled at all. I feel the weight of his attention, of him watching my every step, and when I reach the corner, I tell myself not to turn, but I do. I turn, and I find him at the railing dividing us from the ocean, his hands on the steel bars, his head lowered. As if I’ve affected him. As if the unbreakable Reid Maxwell has a crack in his steel. I don’t know why I want to believe it matters, or that I matter. The truth is, he isn’t a man that knows rejection. I’m a rejection to him and rejection has to be conquered. I can’t forget that. I am nothing but a conquest to this man in all ways. I admire that in him, but I hate it, too. I turn away and start walking. I hate him and yet, I don’t.

I don’t hate him.

And that’s a problem, a weakness. And a weakness is not something I can allow myself to have with a man like Reid Maxwell. All he can see is me meeting him head to head, conquering him as he tries to conquer me. And I will, just not tonight, and not with his mouth all over me.