I dial the human resources department.
“Hello, Mr. Lancaster. How can I help you?” Paige says through the phone. Her voice is low, timid, as if she knows I’m a ticking time bomb.
“Bridget Miller, who hired her?” The aggression in my voice is evident.
“Is there a problem with Ms. Miller, sir?” she squeaks.
“How did she come to work here?” I snap.
“Mrs. Lancaster hired her.”
What the hell? Why would Chelsea hire Bridget Miller?
A sinking feeling rushes through me. Does she know about Bridget and me? Did she find out what I’ve done, and if she does know, how will she make me pay?
“Is everything okay, Mr. Lancaster? Do you need me to—”
“Everything is fine,” I cut her off, hanging up the phone call before she can get a word in edgewise. I need to get to the bottom of this. How does Chelsea know Bridget, and why would she hire her? Slamming the phone down, the sound echoes through the room. Without a moment to waste, I head toward her office.
“Why are you hiring me a new assistant?” I shout as I slam the door behind me.
“Well, you needed one.” She purses her lips. “Is she not to your liking?”
“How did you come across her?”
She smiles a malicious smile. How did I ever want this woman? “I have a friend who owns a temp agency, and she called me with a tip. The girl’s sister is dating Spencer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Her sister, Olivia, is Spencer’s new love interest,” she purrs, and all the muscles in my back tighten.
“What are you up to?”
“Me? Up to something? Don’t be silly, dear.”
“I told you I was done. And I am done. I’m not sure what you’re planning, but this girl has nothing to do with it.”
“Of course she doesn’t. I just knew you needed a new assistant, and when I heard you asked Miles to look into her, I found it . . . interesting. Was I wrong to assume she meant something to you?” She narrows her eyes at me, and I will myself to not give anything away. Not to give her the bait she needs to make my life an even bigger shit show. Because right now with everything else going on, with the impending opening of The L, a volatile Chelsea is not what I need. I grit my teeth and try to remain calm.
“Were you looking to hire someone, or was there another reason you had the head of security for The L look into some girl?”
My mouth opens and shuts as I try to come up with a plausible answer.
“You have to admit, Grant, hiring her could be beneficial to our cause. She may have inside information. Is this going to be a problem?”
“I said we’re dropping the shit with my brother, Chelsea. No more.”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t want to stir up anything else. She just might know if he plans to retaliate. Don’t make an issue where there isn’t one. We don’t want problems, do we?”
She has me. I can’t afford to piss off Chelsea. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Maybe I did this on purpose. Maybe subconsciously, I wanted to get caught. To find a way out of the hellhole I’m in. But there’s no way out. None that won’t hurt Isabella. I made my bed. Now I need to lie in it, no matter how crappy the goddamn mattress is, and it’s pretty fucking bad.
Once again Chelsea has ruined something that was just for me. She’s blindsided me, and in turn, I’ve managed to offend the second person who made me feel something other than regret for the first time in years. Bridget was one moment just for me. For that one moment, I tasted bliss. In her mouth, I found it. But behind every kiss was a lesson. A bitter one. Reminding and reiterating the one thing I should have never forgotten.
Nothing comes without a price.
Most importantly no one can be trusted. Not even myself.
I never should have trusted Miles.
Why did he tell Chelsea about my interest is Bridget? What’s in it for him?
I can’t trust anyone. Not even my own team.
There was a time I trusted my brother. He was the only person I could rely on. As my older brother, Spencer would have reminded me I had choices and could leave. Start over. But that was then, and this is now. He’d never understand. Everything falls into place for him. Nothing works out for me. Case in point, my new assistant. What am I going to do about this massive fuck up?
Fuck. I have to be at least ten years older than her. But when she was looking at me at the bar, and when we got outside and she was pressed against the wall of the building, all I could do—all I could think about—was how much I needed to be inside her.
I just agreed to work with this girl, but I can’t do it. I don’t have the strength. When she stands in front of me, all I’m reminded of is her taste. When she exhales in a huff, the moans that escaped her mouth come crashing into my mind. I should have told her to resign.
She’s the one person who makes me feel. It’s been so long. I never thought I’d feel that way again. The need. The desire. I thought that part of me had died. But she awakened an unquenchable hunger. It gnaws in my gut. Having her for even five minutes was too much. Trying to resist will be torture. Even now, I want to bend her over my desk and plunge into her heat. I want to taste the fire inside her. Bask in her. Empty everything I’ve held back into her. Lose myself in her.
It can never happen.
The door opens, and a very different Bridget walks in. When she first walked into my office today, the spark was there. But after I berated her, it’s as if I ignited a fire inside her. She’s determined not to let me get to her. I can see it, and damn if it isn’t the sexiest thing.
“Mr. Lancaster. Here are the papers you asked for,” she spits out.
She hates me, and fuck if it doesn’t sting.