Chapter 9
I didn’t want to leave Rayven so soon last night. She was amazing, just like the first time, but better. She took everything I gave her, and she passed my test on whether she could handle me. I could have gone a few more rounds with her, but I knew I had an early morning with work. I just needed to be inside of her again, feel her come on my cock the way she did at the ball. But…last night was so much better.
I thought about her all night after I left and into the morning while I got ready for work. My cock was rock hard, wanting to take her again. I haven’t jerked off since I was a teenager, but Rayven does something to me. I had to relieve myself in the shower, yet that still wasn’t satisfying enough. I need her again—and it will be soon.
I get Bill on the phone and hope he has changed his company’s mind about the contract. “Did you receive the new proposal I sent over?”
“I did, and we had another vote. I’m sorry, Jameson, but the vote is still no.”
I clench my fist on top of the desk. “What is stopping this deal from going through?” I grit my teeth. I haven’t lost a client since I first started running this company.
“I admire your persistence, but we are signing with your father.” I hear the hesitation in his voice.
“My father!” I practically yell into the phone.
“I really am sorry, Jameson.” I can tell he feels bad. I know it wasn’t just up to him, but I will be paying my fucking father a visit.
“Me too, Bill.” I hang up and get Brent on the phone to tell him to meet me out front.
Walking out of my office, I tell Greta I’ll be gone for the rest of the day. Brent is waiting at the curb already when I get off the elevator and storm out of the front doors. He drives me over to my father’s company, which is fifteen minutes away.
His company is much smaller than mine because I took everything from him. He used to run the company I do now, but I bought his sorry ass out and left him nothing. He was in his fifties trying to start all over again.
I stomp my way through the ground floor, take the elevator up to the sixth floor, and I ignore the receptionist that tries to stop me from busting through his office doors.
He looks up from his computer and gives me that shit-eating smile of his. “Hello, son. I knew I’d be seeing you.”
“Don’t fucking call me that! I’m not your son!” I slam my hands down on his desk and lean in close. “We had a deal.”
“What deal? That I can’t come after your potential clients?” He tilts his head. “I stuck to that long enough. How would I ever get back to where I was if I sat on the sidelines? This is business, Jamie.”
Rage bubbles inside, and my face heats with anger. “You son of a bitch!” I lunge for him, but security grabs my shoulders.
“Call Bill and stop the deal or I will come after you. I’ll take you down just like I did before.”
He laughs. “I let you have that company because you are my son.”
“If you were my fucking father then you would have been there. You wouldn’t have signed your fucking rights away.” I roughly shake out of the security guard’s hold. I storm out of his office, back down the elevator, and to the waiting Bentley.
I have Brent drive me home; I need to blow off steam and release some of this anger. I change out of my suit, into a pair of sweatpants, and go to my gym.
Brent walks in just as I’m finishing up my last set of squats. “Hey, Boss. We need to talk.” His face is void of an expression.
I step away from the weight bar. “What is it?” I ask while picking up my water bottle and taking a long swallow of the cold liquid.
“You asked me to look into Rayven Bridges from Iowa and the kidnapping of a young girl twelve years ago.” He looks down before meeting my narrowed eyes once again.
“Yes.” My brows furrow.
“She doesn’t exist, and I found nothing about a Bridges girl being kidnapped.” He sits on the weight bench.
“Is she lying about her sister?” I grab the clean towel I had sitting on the floor and wipe the sweat from my face.
“She’s lying about who she is, for sure. I will look more into the kidnapping, search other states. Did she tell you the girl’s last name was Bridges?”
I think back to our conversation a week ago at the ball. “No, she didn’t. I guess I just assumed. I didn’t think she would be lying about who she is. Do more digging and see if you can figure out who she really is.”
“On it.” Brent stands from the bench and walks out.
Throwing the towel on the floor, I start to pace. I can’t really be angry with her for using a fake name because I do too, but why is she? Did she really make up the story about her sister? Is she running from something or someone?
Who the hell are you, Rayven Bridges?