Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
AIDEN
Los Angeles gleams outside my windows, a vast expanse stretching into the far distance. Shining like it always does with an artificial kind of prettiness. A poor replica of the night sky only visible far away from light pollution.
I take another sip of my scotch. It’s far too good to be wasted on a night like this. But it’s a dulling agent against the anger burning inside me.
News stories have been making the rounds since this afternoon. And all of them were like a fucking dagger between the ribs. Accusations brought against new Titan Media CEO for tax fraud.
This is the exact headline I’ve wanted to avoid. Successfully evaded the past two years and was able to find my footing in the business world instead.
I eradicated my father’s misdeeds from the public’s memory one inch at a time. Replacing his dealings with it was unfortunate indeed and we have no contact until all they saw was me steering Titan Media on the right course. I worked to prove myself, day in and day out, and to restore some semblance of honor to the Hartman name.
Fraud is the last fucking thing I ever wanted to be connected to.
I’ve been in crisis mode from the moment Eric told me yesterday. On the phone with lawyers, with my concerned sister, with my executive team. The Board called an emergency meeting.
The negotiations with Caleb and Nora Stone have ground to a halt. We had come so far—me trying to convince them to accept the deal that would make us all legends in this industry, and launch their fun, garage-born small idea into a global success. I had the Board convinced.
We were so close.
And then some fucking bozo in accounting had missed a zero, opened us up to an investigation, and the news outlets have found a delicious story to run with.
This day has been long enough already. The fight with Charlotte this afternoon had taken the last of my patience, and then Eric called to tell me that the story had hit the mainstream.
I’ve been putting out fires ever since. It’s late, too late, and I’m trying to douse the last one with another glass of scotch.
There are traces of Charlotte everywhere. Her shoes are in the hallway, put neatly to the side. Her sweater is thrown over the back of the couch I’m sitting on. I reach out and run my hand over the soft fabric, and it feels like a silky caress on my skin. Like her hair.
Where she is, I don’t know.
Probably asleep upstairs.
The car in the driveway had been moved, though. I noticed it when I came home. It’s now parked next to her disastrous red Honda. So I know she took the Audi out for a drive.
I take another long sip of the scotch.
The timing couldn’t be worse. For the deal. For the memoir. This press release could derail everything I’ve been working on for years.
Fury rolls through me. At the people across this city in their little specks of white light, filling up the night sky with so much brightness that we’ve drowned out all the stars. At my accounting team for creating and not catching this fuckup. At my lawyers and PR people for not getting a handle on the story earlier and killing it before it gained traction. At my father for opening us up to this kind of scrutiny in the first place. At his petty greed, his ego, his wants. His way of handling the trial that made it into a news story of its own.
And at myself, for not being better.
I knock back the last of my drink and brace my head in my hands. Fire races through me. It burns and soothes at the same time. I want to run a lap through the house, but also yearn to lie down on the couch and fall asleep. For a few moments, I consider going to the gym and hitting the sandbag hanging there.
I want, and I want, and I want. And I can’t make myself move.
Tomorrow, it all starts over again. More meetings. More fires to put out. And on Friday, the Titan Media’s annual gala, where all the eyes will be on me for hours on end.
With this investigation hanging over me.
You build and build, only to have all of it threatened by a split second of bad press.
Soft footsteps sound through the living room. I look up to find Charlotte entering the living room. She’s in a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top, her hair loose and wavy.
Her eyes are wide on me. I believed she was already asleep. I got home late.
“Hey,” she says. “Are you okay?”
She’s so beautiful it hurts to look at her. My want of her flares to life again, and I hate myself for our earlier argument. For having to pretend she’s just a business associate. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” She walks across the carpet and looks from me to the tumbler I’ve just emptied. “I heard about… today.”
“Did you, huh? You and everyone else.” My words come out angry, but it’s not her I’m angry with. Never her.
I shake my head to chase the spite away.
“Aiden,” she murmurs, and I close my eyes at the tone in her voice. If she doesn’t go away, I’m going to do something stupid. I can feel it growing, the need to reach out and pull her down beside me.
“I spoke to Eric a bit. He said it wasn’t true.”
“It’s not. My lawyers are already fighting it. But that doesn’t stop news outlets from running with it.”
She stops in front of me, stepping in between my splayed knees. “I know,” she says, and there’s a fierceness in her voice that takes my breath away. “They’ll say anything if it makes them money.”
I reach up, fit my hands to her waist. The thin garment she’s wearing does nothing to stop the warmth of her skin from seeping into my palms.
“I’m not in a good mood,” I tell her. “And we argued earlier.”
She runs a hand along my jaw. Her touch is light, sending shivers down my spine. The want is like acid on my tongue. “I can tell,” she says. “Do you want to be alone?”
I pull her onto my lap. Her breath hitches, her legs settle on either side of mine. “No.”
“Good,” she murmurs and slides her arms around my neck.
I kiss her hard. It’s more forceful than usual, and I can’t stop, can’t prevent myself from crushing her against my chest. But Charlotte doesn’t seem to mind.
She kisses me back and moans against my lips when I roll her against my erection.
“Just let me make you feel good,” I whisper. My hands are on her shorts, fingers slipping above the waistline and finding the warm skin of her hips. “That’s all I need. You ran away the other night before I could make you feel good.”
“Aiden.” Her voice is a soft breath against my lips, her hands dig into my shoulders. I love it when she clings to me like this. She’d done it on the couch too, when I fingered her, holding on to me like I was her anchor.
I want to wipe away this day.
My hands move up, gliding over her rib cage. Pushing her tank top upward with each movement until her tits are free, their faint swells filling my hands. Energy pulses through me at the sight.
“You’re so pretty.” I lean forward and catch her nipple with my mouth. Use my teeth. Charlotte’s breath hitches on a moan, and I fucking love that, too. Love it just as much as I love her tits in my face. Love everything about her, and maybe the strength of my feelings would scare me if I wasn’t half a bottle deep and drunk out of my mind on her.
“No compliments,” she whispers. She tugs off her tank top, and it lands somewhere behind us with a muted whoosh.
“Is that a new rule?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Getting the pajama shorts off is harder. She’s straddling me, and I don’t want to let her go, even for a second. I grip the garment at her hips and fist the fabric in my hands.
“Don’t you dare rip these,” she mutters against my neck.
I groan. “How else am I gonna get at you?”
“I’ll take them off.” There’s a smile in her voice as she slides off me. She barely stands before I reach out and tug her pajama shorts and panties straight down.
She’s so pretty. I groan at the sight of her pussy and pull her close, a hand on her hips. I need her on my tongue.
She stops me. “Aiden,” she says, and there’s a warning in her tone. Fuck. Right .
“Sorry, sweetheart.” I pull her back down on my lap instead and kiss her. She’s naked in my arms, on top of me, and I let my hands roam. Over the curve of her spine and the dimples at her lower back. She grinds against me, and I encourage the movement. Even if it makes my cock ache while her heat is so close to me. “God, you’re beautiful.”
That “no compliments” rule is impossible. Might be smart, sure. To keep this from getting too emotional. But I can’t help myself.
She moans when I reach between our bodies, my thumb finding her clit. It swells rapidly at my circling, and I fucking love this—how responsive she is, how wild she is. How she’s always been game.
Her nipples are taut, and her tits jiggle a little with each sharp inhale.
“I wish I had your vibrator,” I mutter. “I’d tuck it against your clit while you ride my hand.”
Charlotte shudders in my grasp, another small moan escapes her. “I…. have it with me. It’s upstairs.”
I curse against her lips. It’s so tempting, but I can’t let go of her to save my life. It would kill me. “We’ll use it later.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
I move my thumb around her clit, pushing on the little button, circling, alternating. I slide my other hand further down until I find her entrance. She’s wet and slick and tight, and I slowly thrust my middle finger inside her.
Charlotte collapses on me, pressing her face to my shoulder. “Oh my God,” she breathes. Her hips move, and I spur her on.
“That’s it, Chaos. Use me to make yourself feel good.” She rolls her hips and sinks down more on my hand.
I press our mouths together again, even as I’m working between her legs, and feel her clench around my finger.
“I want you to show me how you use that vibrator later,” I mutter. “I want to see all your orgasms.”
She’s breathing fast. I flick my thumb back and forth over her clit, the same as I would have with my tongue if she’d let me, and another deep-body shudder racks through her.
“I just want you inside me,” she murmurs.