Chapter 1: Zach

 

I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling and blinked. Light flooded through curtains that hadn’t been drawn and everything was white with a tinge of beige. The place was so pure it gave me a headache. The alcohol from the night before reared its head in the form of a hangover and I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. I turned my head and my eyes fell on her face.

Right. The brunette I had seduced last night. Anna? Alice? I wasn’t sure what her name was. Maybe it wasn’t either of those. God knew there had been more than a few women lately and I wasn’t that good with names. She laid curled up on her side, her brown hair fanned out over the pillow, her breasts pressed together sensually. I’d slid my dick through those beauties and watched her suck me off for an hour the night before. If I were the committing type, she’d be in trouble. I studied her a little closer. Shit. She looked a lot younger than she said, too. I hoped she hadn’t lied to me about her age.

“Zach?” Her eyes fluttered open.

She was fucking beautiful for sure. At least it had been a rose-colored glasses sort of night. I had enough of those to remind me to stop after a few beers. Not that I ever did.

“Hey.” I reached over and tucked a long strand of her hair behind her ears. I’d hoped to sneak out before she woke up, but life never was much for giving me a break.

A smile spread across her swollen pink lips. “You leaving so soon?”

“Me? Not a chance.” I forced my thoughts of running like hell and pulled at the cover, moving over the top of her as she rolled onto her back. “I enjoyed dinner last night, but I think someone should pony up and give me dessert.”

“Dessert? For breakfast?” She let out a giggle, and I started to question my damn self again. Fuck. She wasn’t nearly as old as she played off. She was legal, but that was about it. Damn liquor.

“Never know if tomorrow will come.” I pressed myself to the top of her soft, warm body and ran my hand down her side. “Open up and let me in.”

“Yeah,” she whispered sensually and spread her legs wide for me. Like a good girl.

The moan that left her as I pressed my cock deep inside her tight little body caused goose bumps to break out over my skin.

“Fuck,” I moaned and pressed my mouth to the side of her neck, jack-hammering her pussy as she cried out beautifully for me. I ran my hands down between her and the bed, cupping her ass and lifting her a little so I could get the last few inches of a cock inside of her.

“Condom,” she whined as she clawed at my back.

“Hush,” I rolled my hips, fucking her deep and slow as she wrapped herself tightly around me. “I’ll get it when I’m ready.”

She didn’t argue, but the sweet little thing was nearly orgasming. I could feel her body swelling around me, teasing the tip of my cock and milking my shaft. It was all I could do to hang on.

Morning sex was my favorite. The woman beside me was always so tight and warm, sleeping and sweet. There was something almost soft about it, which helped me feel like less of a bastard than I was.

“I’m going to come.”

“Good. Wet the bed.” I bit my tongue as I tried to think of her fucking name again. Nothing came to mind. Not good. She could just be ‘baby’ for the morning. “Fuck me hard, baby.”

I rolled my eyes internally at myself. I had a one-way ticket to hell for my indiscretions no doubt, but I was in too deep to pull out.

She cried out and tightened her taut thighs around my side, pulling me in deeper as she undulated her hips, stroking my dick with her sloppy wet slit.

I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. God, I loved fucking. It was the only pleasure that produced a high every time.

“Come for me,” she whispered and pushed at my chest.

“Not without a rubber, Angel.” I lifted up, flexing my arms and chest.

The look in her eyes was one I’d seen before many times, though the shit never got old. Lust. Adoration. Worship.

“Then get one?” She smiled and ran her hands over my chest. “You work out, don’t you?”

No fucking way I was diving into awkward sex conversations that early in the morning. She had the wrong guy.

I moved to my knees and gripped her legs, pulling her up and pressing my swollen shaft back into her as she moaned loudly. “No more talking, baby. Just watch me fuck you, okay?”

“Mhmm,” she bit her lip, trying to look cute. She pulled it off well, but I was stepping over the line. The look on her pretty face told me she was dreaming of dates, rings and babies.

Warning bells were ringing in my head. I had to blow and go. Fast.

I pulled out and slid my hand up her chest, squeezing on of her tits. “Put your mouth on me.”

Her eyes widened a little, but she moved to her knees and reached out, stroking my damp erection before pulling her mouth around the tip of me.

I slid my hand in her hair, held her still and fucked her nice and slow until fire burned deep in my belly.

“Use your teeth.” I groaned as she scrapped her teeth over my sensitive skin. “That’s it,” I whispered gravelly. “Drink it, baby.”

She moaned around my cock as I pressed forward and released myself into her sweet mouth, watching as she drank from me like a fountain.

“So good,” she said as I dropped back to press my ass to my heels, panting like I’d jogged around the fucking block.

“Yeah you are.” I leaned over and kissed her. “I’m gonna slip into the restroom. I’ll let myself out and call you soon?”

She flopped back on the bed, her tits bouncing for me nicely. “Sounds great, but no hurry. I have nowhere to go just yet.” She bit her lip playfully.

I forced a smile. Fuck me for not leaving when she passed out the night before. Me and my damn desire for morning sex.

****

I left her lying on the bed, trying to look like a sex kitten, when I was sure the poor thing just wanted to go back to sleep. Women were so cute, so endearing. And I was a bastard.

I closed the bathroom door and brushed my teeth. A shower would help my hangover a little, but it would take too long. I would have to do that later. I splashed cold water on my face, but it didn’t have the same soothing effect. My thoughts moved around in various places, fucking with me as I glanced up and looked at myself in the mirror.

I didn’t want to face her again. I never liked facing the women I slept with the morning after. They usually wanted me to call them or worse, to spend the morning with them in some mock version of a relationship that would never exist. I didn’t take them to bed with me to make them mine forever. I was never in it for longer than one night.

Did that make me a womanizer? Probably. You can’t help who you are.

Sure, the female body was irresistible and I knew just what to do to get a piece of it whenever I wanted, but a long-term thing scared me. Hell, seeing them a second time scared me. My parents had a beautiful relationship full of love and respect and dad ended up losing it all, anyway. What was the point of loving someone so deeply just to have her ripped away from you? Fuck that. Not for me.

There had been times when I would run into a woman from my past. It became harder to avoid them when there were so many. The one thing that upset them the most was when I pretended not to recognize them.

I only tried that a couple times.

It was always easiest to get away before she made breakfast and realized that I didn’t have her number. When she ran into me later, she would be the one pretending not to know me. It was better than having to admit that she’d been left high and dry, no matter how sexually satisfied she was at the time.

 

I forced my mind to chill the hell out and got dressed in my jeans and a collared shirt. My father preferred suits when I went into the office – backward thinking didn’t get anyone anywhere – but I had spent the night partying with women and it was Saturday. I found myself suddenly hung-over and grumpy. He would have to put up with jeans.

I slicked my hair back, using oil that made my dark hair look blacker than black and turned my head side to side, taking in my handiwork. The movement made me nauseous but despite my throbbing head, I looked okay. Not bad. Not bad at all. I smiled at myself in the mirror and turned away.

When I opened the door a little to see her, she had thankfully fallen back asleep. She had wrapped herself in the covers, but her pert little ass hung out. She did that shit on purpose. Women. I tiptoed to the desk where my laptop bag sat against the chair. With the bag slung over my shoulder and my shoes in hand, I made my way quietly to the door. I left the keycard on the desk. I wouldn’t be using it again and I trusted Brunette over there to check out after she’d gotten over her anger.

I put my hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. The door clicked open. I patted my pockets out of habit and froze. I was missing my phone. I turned around and scanned the room. It was still on the bedside table.

Dammit.

I considered leaving it behind for a moment. Was a phone worth the trouble? But I couldn’t leave it. All my contacts were on that phone and it would be the fourth one I’d lost or broken this year.

“Money doesn’t grow on trees,” my father would say if he found out I’d lost yet another one. Despite living a life that suggested money actually did grow on trees, this was his favorite saying. I walked to the bed as quietly as I could and picked up the cell phone. I pocketed it and I was about to turn away before my phone chimed with an incoming message. I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped for the best.

“You’re not leaving yet, right?” the pretty brunette blinked a few times and asked in a husky voice.

Fuck!

“Yeah,” I said and cleared my throat. “I have a meeting at the office.”

She flashed a languid smile and stretched her arms up. The covers slid from her body and she lay before me in her naked glory. I wouldn’t have minded another round with her, but my balls were empty and I had too much to do. Like run.

“I really can’t stay, sweetheart,” I said. She pouted and rolled onto her stomach. I was relieved her breasts weren’t in view to distract me anymore. Something about tits just did it for me.

“On a Saturday?”

I shrugged. My father worked six days a week.

“Do you want to meet up later, then?” she asked.

I shook my head and glanced at my wristwatch. “I don’t know if I’m going to be in town.”

That was a lie, of course. I knew I was going to be around. I just didn’t want to see her again. I leaned over the bed and planted a kiss on her forehead. I couldn’t just turn around and walk away now that she was awake. Women were so sensitive about these things, fussing about emotions after the fact.

“I’m going to be late,” I said. “I’ll try to get in touch with you when I have a chance.”

She frowned and rolled over, sitting up. She clutched the sheets to her chest. She looked like a model in those movies where they were naked in bed for no good reason other than to show off their bodies.

“You don’t have my number,” she said. Damn. Why did I always end up with the brilliant ones that were on the ball? Shit, if I were being honest, it seemed like all women were always on the ball when it came to the second date or swapping phone numbers stuff.

“I’ll find it,” I said, smiling.

She didn’t think it was funny. “Instead of just asking for it?”

I forced a smile. “Can we talk about this later?” I asked, looking at my wristwatch again.

“When you find my number?” she asked sarcastically. She was getting angry with me. God, this was irritating. It was better than when they got all teary – those were the worst – but anger took a close second.

“Yes?” I gave her a boyishly cute smile, or so I hoped it was.

“Let’s not kid around, Zach,” she carried on. “I heard you were like this. I didn’t think it was true, though. You know, with your whole campaign about women’s empowerment. I thought it would mean something. Turns out, it was bullshit.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. We’d been running the campaign for six months and since then, any time I left a woman – which was every time – they threw that at me. It was this new hall pass they tried to use. Emotional blackmail.

“We’re more than happy to help women in the business world,” I said. “But this is my personal life. Not the same thing.”

She folded her arms over her chest, her eyes spitting fire at me. She wasn’t nearly as attractive now as she had been the night before.

“I’ve left the key card on the desk,” I said. “I really have to get going.”

“I’m sure,” she said and gave me a look that made me want to flee. I nodded and turned around, walking to the door where I’d left my bag and shoes. I pulled on the shoes before opening the door again.

Thanks for-” I started to say, but she cut me off.

“Don’t. I’m not interested in you treating me like a hooker. Get out,” she said angrily.

That was my cue to leave. I closed the door behind me, shutting out her stare. I sighed and shook my head.

Another day, another woman.

What she said about Daybreak Solutions’ new campaign was ridiculous. Why should I change my own views just because my dad wanted the company to revive the original dream? Sure, my mom would have loved the campaign. Everything about it screamed Girl Power and my mom had been a front runner for women’s rights. But she was gone now, and even though the company was her legacy, I was not the company.

I was the CFO. I didn’t have to be all women are everything just because my mom’s company used to be all about that image.

The moment I thought it, I felt bad. My mom had a vision. She wanted to create an opportunity that would mean something to someone. She succeeded, too. She started with the Nettles’ Women Foundation – the NWF – that had made its mark as one of the safest places to go for abused and battered women. When she started Daybreak, which was an extension of the foundation, it was not only to help those who needed a break in life to start their own business. It had also helped the women who escaped with nothing.

It was beyond noble. Until the very end, my mom had been the very definition of noble. Pissing on her dream was wrong, but I just couldn’t be that person. I couldn’t be selfless and compassionate. Everyone called me an asshole and most of the time it was true, but I was good at it. I owned it. Accept who you are, right?

I parked in my reserved parking space underneath the building and got out. I greeted the doorman, who was always forced to work overtime because my father did, and rode the elevator up to the top floor where my office was situated. My office sat right next door to his.

I dumped my bag in my office, tossing my phone onto my desk, before walking out and knocking on my dad’s door.

“You’re late,” he barked when I walked in. He sat on his throne behind his desk. His hair was a deep gray and his green eyes were watery. He was getting old, but he was far from retirement. His mind was still sharp as a pin and on top of the world.

“I had a situation,” I said.

“What kind of situation? No.” He held up his hand, dipping his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Good. I didn’t want to tell him.

“Let’s talk about the press conference, instead.”

I sat down in a chair opposite him, throwing one leg over the armrest. I interlinked my arms on my stomach and braced myself for a whole lot of business talk.

“I think it went well,” he pressed on. “They’re eating out of our hands now. I liked the new ad, too. It ran last night for the first time. Did you see it?”

I shook my head. I had been too busy between the brunette’s legs to notice the television blaring in the background.

My dad pulled a pinched face but carried on. “Next one is on you,” he said. I wasn’t sure what he meant – the ad or the press conference?

“The campaign is doing wonders. We’ve had major markups since it started. I think the public likes it.”

Of course, they liked it. In this day and age, women’s empowerment were the new buzz words and my dad wasn’t only playing on the emotions of at least sixty percent of the population, he was also making a drastic change in the economy. Everyone loved Daybreak and what they were doing for the community.

I studied my hands.

“Am I boring you?” he asked, his voice clipped.

I looked at him, careful not to shake my head. My father narrowed his eyes at me.

“Are you hung-over?” He shook his head, disappointment written all over his face. Had he forgotten what it was like to be young? When he spoke again his voice was snappy. “Sit up, young man. Try to look like you care.”

I sighed and straightened myself in my chair. I wasn’t in the mood for work. It was a Saturday. I hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night – extracurricular activities will do that to you – and my head throbbed dully between my temples. My stomach turned uncomfortably with the remembrance of old alcohol.

My father considered me for a moment with a serious face. He was thinking. That was always dangerous.

“I want to talk to you about something,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?” He never started his conversations like this. “Sounds serious.”

He nodded. “It is.”

I swallowed and waited.

“I got an email from a Miss Sandra Broome,” he said.

I frowned. The name sounded sort of familiar, but she could have been anyone.

“Okay?”

“She told me of your… hobbies.”

I rolled my eyes. “Really, dad? Don’t listen to hate mail. There are people who disagree with us.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have listened to it if I knew it wasn’t true. The problem is that I know it is.”

“I’m old enough to know what I’m doing,” I said. I wasn’t a teenager anymore, after all. I was Chief Financial Officer in the company my mother started. I had a Business degree and enough years’ experience to make it anywhere, even without my father’s help. I’d just celebrated my twenty-eighth birthday and my definition of love suited me just fine.

“It’s not about you and your life. That’s your problem. This is about the Company image. I don’t give a damn about Miss Broome personally, but you can’t go on like this. It’s making Daybreak look bad.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

“She was just a clingy woman,” I said. “You know how those are.”

I wasn’t sure my dad did know. Since my mom passed he’d thrown himself into the Company, growing it larger and stronger than it had ever been before. His personal life was non-existent.

“This isn’t about you,” he repeated. “I know it’s hard to believe, but this is about Nora.”

When he said my mom’s name, I froze.

I didn’t like it when we talked about her. Thinking about her always messed up my dad’s day and not mentioning her name made me feel like perhaps she wouldn’t be disappointed in me, after all. It was all an illusion, of course, but it was an illusion I loved.

“I’m not going to let you and your gallivanting ruin this Company’s image. We just started the women empowerment campaign and you are single-handedly making a joke out of everything it stands for.”

I opened my mouth to argue but closed it again without saying anything. He was right. I wasn’t exactly acting in the best interests of the Company. I just didn’t think it needed to be more important to me than anything other part of my life.

“I’ll make sure the women keep quiet,” I said. “This won’t happen again.”

My father shook his head and looked toward the window.

“It’s not just about what they’re saying. It’s about your image in the press. The media blows everything up and with our publicity, they’ll use anything they can find.”

I shrugged. While I wasn’t exactly a celebrity, the press loved my face and over the past year, they’d caught me in more than a few compromising positions. I’d become the City’s most eligible bachelor and I loved playing up to that title. Add to that, Daybreak’s name was starting to spread and that meant the Nettles – my Dad and I – were in the public eye a lot more than we used to be.

“I’m getting a PR agent for you,” he stated. “And don’t give me any lip about it. Period.”

“A what?” I asked, leaning forward in my seat, ignoring his command.

“You heard me. I’m not going to let you ruin the Company’s name. You need to straighten yourself out, work on that image of yours. Arrogant Womanizer doesn’t suit you.”

I shook my head. “You’re getting me a personal relationship agent? What’s she going to do? Follow me around and make sure I behave? That’s a little weird for a grown man, don’t you think?”

“Don’t be an ass…” He glanced up at me. “Maybe, if you acted more like the face of this company, we wouldn’t have this problem. Your mother’s values stood for something good, but you’re fucking them up nicely. You want to sleep around and act like a whore? You can do it under the watchful eye of someone who can throw a bag over your head and get you out of the public eye when you leave, missing your pants, from yet another woman’s house.”

I stood up, ready to walk. “I don’t need help with my love life, personal life or my image. I can deal with my own shit just fine. As for the company, I’ll keep it strictly personal. I don’t need some modern-day Mary Poppins cramping my style.”

My dad shook his head. “This isn’t negotiable, Zach. Now sit your ass back down. Now.”

My brows knitted together and my head pulsed some more.

If he wasn’t my father, I’d have dragged his old ass over the desk he sat at and popped him in the face. Because he was, I sat down and locked my jaw. I was in for a long fucking day.