One hour earlier
I cry all the way through my shower. Real, fat, salty tears that have been accumulating behind some fortified
psychological floodgate for nineteen years.
Damn you, Noah Steel. For blowing the lid off some de ep emotional well I’ve been able to ke ep sealed all this
time.
I don’t how he did that. With those filthy-sweet words, that gigantic cock and all those stellar orgasms, that’s
how.
I wish he was here. I wish I was soaping up those washboard abs, sliding my hand lower, fisting his n —
Stop. This isn’t helping. After a while, my tears finally dry up. I rinse my hair and my face, turn the shower off
and reach for a towel.
Weirdly, I feel better. Lighter. Freer. Like some of the existential weight I’ve been carrying around with me
for a long time has lifted.
I check the time. 9:13. I choose a simple black dress. I brush my hair and leave it loose. But then I think better
of it, smoothing it back from my face and clipping it into place with a tortoise-shell barrette on each side. That will
have to do, since I don’t have time to tame it this morning.
Who am I trying to please anyway? Cash Maddox can kiss my ass. I’m hardly going to make an effort for the
shark who’s trying to eat my company.
I put on my usual mascara and lip gloss. I notice then that I’ve got several hickies on my neck that aren’t at all
subtle.
Really, Steel? What were you trying to do, mark me as your own? I already know the answer to that question.
A small curl of pleasure flutters through me as my body remembers. I put some concealer over the bruises but it
doesn’t do much to hide them.
My sapphire bracelet catches the light. I try to take it off but the clasp seems stuck. I finally give up and leave
it on. Why, Noah? It doesn’t make sense. Grace must have made a mistake. Two months of studying gems hardly
makes her an expert. Machines make gems these days, maybe it’s getting harder to tell. I’m sure there are plenty of
jewelry stores that use blue boxes.
I pull on some knee-length boots, find my bag and grab my phone. It’s fully charged. There are now fourteen
missed calls from the Unknown Caller. And one text.
CALL ME BACK ~ N
I will. But not now. I need all my wits and I’m barely holding it together as it is.
I can hear the shower in Grace’s bathroom running, so I quickly text her.
Pray for me. Love you, G. See you tonight
I ride the elevator down to the lobby, take a minute to say hi to the concierge and to stop to smell the flowers
in today’s bouquet. My mother used to say it was good luck to stop and smell the roses.
If there was ever a day I needed luck, Mama, this is it. Send me a little extra from wherever you are up there. I
miss you. Daddy, I’ll do the best I can.
Then I grab a cab to the Fifth Avenue address of Invested Enterprises. On the way, I try to channel my inner
calm. After the emotional release of my crying jag, I do feel calmer. I’ll negotiate with Cash Maddox and his
mulish CFO with all the self-confidence I have—which isn’t record- breaking but it’s also not nothing. I do
happen to be good at my job. I’ve been studying these numbers my whole life. There is value in Ashton
Holdings. And there’s huge potential for growth. I just have to convince them of that.
The cab pulls up to the curb. I pay the guy and st ep out onto the street. I look up. I happen to know Invested
Enterprises owns the entire skyscraper. Wow. It’s an impressive building. Let’s do this, L. Emerson. I take a de ep
breath. And I st ep inside. The lobby is black marble, gold and glass. There’s a front desk and a metal-detector
entranceway that leads de eper into the lobby, to the area where the rows of elevators are.
“Good morning,” the girl at the desk greets me. She’s young, gorgeous, very professional and has the whitest
teeth I’ve ever seen. She could be a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader or a Victoria’s Secret runway model. It’s well
publicized that all the brightest new graduates from all over the country flock to apply for jobs at Invested
Enterprises. It’s the trendiest company to work for in New York.
“Hi. I’m Lucky Ashton. I’m here to meet with Cash Maddox.” She checks the computer. “I have an L.
Emerson Ashton at ten.” “Yes, that’s me.” “Welcome, Ms. Ashton. Your meeting is on the eighteenth floor. It’s
Boardroom 1810. Take one of the elevators on the left. When you get to the eighteenth floor, take a right. It’s the
largest meeting room, at the end of the hall. You can’t miss it. They’re all waiting for you.”
All? My heart is beating fast. The clock on the wall reads 10:01. “Thank you.”
A group of young, fashionably-dressed employees who might have just come from a Vogue photoshoot follow
me through the metal detector. Talking animatedly, they all wander into elevators on the right. I’m the only one
waiting for the elevators on the left.
One opens. I st ep inside and press 18. It barely even feels like I’m moving. If I lose everything, I’ll look for a
job in Ireland, that’s what I’ll do. Fuck it all. I’ll pack my bags and live a completely different life. I’ll rent a little
studio apartment with a futon for a bed and a desk that looks out the window over green fields. I’ll start over again.
So what if I don’t have a
penny to my name. Or a home. Or possessions. Or a job. At least I’ll be free.
Of course I’ll call Noah back. Maybe we can even have another weekend together before I fly out.
My stomach does a weird swoop that has nothing to do with the elevator. It has everything to do with the
reminder of my spur-of-the- moment trip to Ireland and the reason I was going to do that.
Oh. My. GOD. I forgot to take my pill. I always take it before bed. But on Friday night I was so preoccupied I
completely forgot. I FORGOT TO TAKE MY BIRTH CONTROL PILL. I didn’t take one on Saturday either. Or
Sunday. I FORGOT FOR THREE WHOLE DAYS.
What I did do on Friday, Saturday and Sunday was have a very unprotected and extremely uninhibited
sex-a-thon.
DOES MISSING YOUR PILLS FOR THREE DAYS MEAN YOU CAN...?
Holy shit. I need to google it. I need to get a Plan B. I need to figure out what to do.
The elevator pings and the doors slide open. I almost don’t st ep out. Should I rush home and immediately take
a pill? All three? Would that make a difference?
The elevators doors start to close and I quickly push the button to ke ep them open.
What if I’m... And homeless? Good work, L. Emerson. Well done. Knocked up, broke and living destitute on
the streets. Fantastic use of real world common sense. Way to go, girl.
But there’s another tiny part of me—the crazy, impractical part—that doesn’t hate the idea. It is one of my
wildest dreams, after all.
Did some corner of my psyche make me forget on purpose? Did my inner sex goddess and her Earth Mother
twin sabotage me? You bitches! This is not what I need right now!
I need to get my shit together and get to this meeting. I’m still holding the button that ke eps the doors open.
I take a de ep breath, square my shoulders and st ep out of this elevator. But I feel dazed, my head full of
visions of me living under a bridge with a
hungry baby.
What would Noah do if I was? He was definitely enthusiastic about not using condoms.
On autopilot, I take a right and start walking down the hall to the only room with an open door, glass walls
and, even from here, expansive views of the city skyline.
There’s a tall man standing near the door. And a second one. I can see another man with his back turned. He’s
talking. Gruffly. His voice is loud enough for me to hear what he’s saying. “There’s no way they offered more than
fifteen. Probably more like ten. If anything, we should go lower. We’re not fucking budging on fifteen. There’s not
a snowball’s chance in hell that company is worth even close to that much.”
His voice sounds almost sounds familiar. But no, it’s more aggressive. More pissed off and cut-throat.
I get to the doorway and the two men closest to the door turn. They’re both big, wide-shouldered and
dark-haired. One is slightly taller, more stern and seasoned-looking. The other one has a more laid-back vibe and
can’t quite contain his amusement. They’re both absurdly good- looking men.
God. Why do they look almost familiar? The taller one st eps forward and holds out his hand. “Cash Maddox.”
I shake it, just like my father taught me to. Firm but not too firm and ke ep it brief. “Hi, I’m Lucky Ashton.”
“This is my brother Colton, COO,” Cash is saying. It’s then that the third man turns. “And that’s Noah, my
CFO.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Holy shit. No. No no no no no NO. It’s him. My Noah. None other than the man
I spent the entire weekend in bed with, doing shockingly intimate things, and now there’s a very small
chance—okay, maybe not very small—that he may have actually impregnated me.
This can’t be happening. Oh, it’s happening all right.
He looks different in this setting. More serious. That suit fits him in a way that should be illegal. Meaner.
More intimidating. But no less handsome.
His brothers are hot, gorgeous men, but they don’t have that sexy teddy bear thing going on that Noah has.
Exc ept that he’s lost the best parts of his teddy-bear-ness in this setting. He’s more grizzly-on-the-prowl.
I hate him. I hate how fucking beautiful he is. I hate that he and his arrogant billionaire brothers have all the
power in this situation and I have exactly none.
My to-die-for lover is the evil CFO. He’s the one who’s going to ruin me. Noah Steel is Noah Fucking
Maddox.