One
Crush
verb: to violently subdue an opposition or a rebellion
noun: an intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable
Five Years Later
Max
Annoying was too mild of a word to describe Amber-Leigh Swift. Fucking downright difficult would be more accurate.
We had only been working together for a few weeks, yet she had managed to get under my skin, at any given opportunity.
Life as I knew it was gradually becoming a shit show.
At work, I was a consummate professional and considerably thick-skinned, but the woman knew exactly what buttons to push—strike that— stomp all over. Lady Swift had sunk her claws through said skin, way past the bone and deeper. The woman provoked that darker side of me, the ugly I held at bay. At work anyway, my personal life was a different story and I was much more spontaneous. There was a good reason I kept my monster out of the workplace; ask anyone who knew me.
It was only Tuesday and I was already in a mood and if she spoke over me just one more time; I would likely put my fist through the wall, cue said monster.
Over the last two weeks, Amber had started to undermine me regularly, making me look weak in front of my men.
I had offered her a temporary contract as a trainee project manager as a favour to her father and if I could go back and change that, believe me, I would .
The woman was beyond a headache. The nickname I had labelled her after only a handful of meetings suited her well; Amber-Leigh Swift aka The Antichrist.
I watched her through narrowed eyes as we stood before key members of my workforce. An emergency meeting had been called when the site we were working on had flooded. Floodwater was a bitch when working construction; just like the woman who stood before me.
Amber’s voice was melodic as she addressed the lads, it was a nice-sounding tone and didn’t suit her sour disposition. The woman was probably responsible for coining the phrase resting bitch face . Although it needed to rest in peace , in my opinion.
More fool me, I had allowed Amber to work on this project as a favour to her old man and I use the term ‘working’ loosely. I’d regretted my decision to let her tag along from day one. She was a massive pain in my arse. If I could jump in a time machine and go back and change things I would; irrespective of ballsing up the time continuum. If truth be known, I’d like to zap the bitch with one point, twenty-one gigawatts.
Why the hell had I agreed to such a stupid request, like a limp-dicked pushover? I must have been high at the time. I had never worked with amateurs before and Amber was exactly that. She was inexperienced and totally unsuitable. She couldn’t even follow a simple instruction. The woman was condescending, and stubborn and didn’t listen to a word I said. And in my business, my word was law.
Scratching my jaw, I watched her speaking so confidently to a room filled mostly with large, sweaty blokes. I’m not even remotely joking; they hung on every word like she was their fucking Messiah.
Being so wet behind the ears, Amber probably believed they respected her, but I knew the truth. My eyes roamed slyly over her tight little body; they just want to bang you wearing those fuck-me heels sweetheart, it has nothing to do with respect . God knew why she thought her footwear was the height of sophistication. They looked like something a whore would wear and were totally at odds with the buttoned-up vibe her outfit put out there. She was a walking, talking contradiction.
Talking of respect; respect had to be earned. What the fuck had she accomplished in life that was so noteworthy. How to look good in designer clothes and put people down was not a thing.
I had learned about life the hard way, having crawled my way up the ranks of my father’s business in a proper blood, sweat and tears scenario. My old man had made me work for it and I had been given no free rides. I’d had to prove myself from the bottom up and earn my place at the top. I’d started as an errand boy during a work experience placement and had never been treated as the boss's son.
Now I was flying solo, every successful project delivered had been accomplished by my relentless drive and sheer grit. I certainly hadn’t had the luxury of handouts from Daddy, ‘unlike some’ I thought, dragging my gaze away from the current source of all my pain. Fuck me she was beautiful though; you couldn’t deny that.
As I allowed Amber to carry on rambling from centre stage, I thought about how I had ended up babysitting her arse.
I was the owner of a successful construction company and was in the process of building a new bar extension onto a recently refurbished hotel. My estimator had flagged up some concerns after he’d recently reworked the finances for the project’s completion. He explained that the predicted costs of building materials had been much higher due to unexpected increases in inflation. The cold, hard truth of the matter was that the project would run out of cash before it was delivered. Unless I sold some investments or assets. Something I wasn’t prepared to do. I had recently acquired three huge warehouses near the docks and I was hoping to develop them. If I sold them so soon, I’d haemorrhage money. So, I’d been dealt with an alternative and my company, Hunter Construction had been forced to bring in another firm; not something I usually went for. Having a partner meant you had to run decisions by someone else and I hated giving up control. Sharing wasn’t in my nature.
As Amber continued speaking, my dick twitched at the way her tits pushed against the too-tight blouse she was wearing. I swear she wore it on purpose to piss me off as well as to curry favour with my employees; both the male and female ones. Not wanting to come across as sexist, but the women I hired were usually of the butch variety. You needed strength to work in construction carting bricks around, so brawn was a must.
Yep, Amber-Leigh Swift also had the gay members of my team in that tiny paw of hers. The way Rachel, my foreman’s assistant, watched her was blatant; a sexual hunger which most men in the room were feeling; although they hid it well. And so, they should. My employees knew that I didn’t condone coworker relationships. They caused too much sexual angst amongst the ranks.
And there lay the other problem. Amber was my subordinate and therefore off limits. Part of my rage about the situation I was in was due to the sexual pull I felt towards her. Something I could do fuck all about, like an itch you were not allowed to scratch.
Amber’s height and build were also a sore point. The girl was tiny, doll-like, her head barely reaching my chin, but she wasn’t wary of me one jot. She was a cocky little spitfire; the mouth on her more than made up for what she lacked in size.
Bottom line, Lady Swift (and yes, the privileged bitch came with a title) was a delicate, feminine package with a perfect body and was every guy's wet dream. She had long ginger hair, like liquid fire which was usually scraped up into the tightest of buns; almost giving her a facelift she didn’t need. Her green, cat-like eyes constantly oozed her poor opinion of me and her plump, sweet mouth was usually twisted into a thin line. And don’t get me started on that nose, it was cute and button-like and smattered with freckles. Whenever I entered the room, it was stuck high up in the air; highlighting her disdain. The woman could force a guy’s ego to shrivel up and die with just one look. It was a shame that such a spiky personality was attached to such a stunning face and killer body.
Newsflash; Lady Amber-Leigh Swift hated me at first sight and I had no idea why. Women usually loved me, I was tall and tanned, well-built and good-looking. I was also inked to fuck and wore my tats like a boss, no one messed with me. I also had a decent enough personality with a good sense of humour and I was fair to those who didn’t cross me. Then there was the added appeal of my bank balance. Money opened all sorts of opportunities, no sexual pun intended.
I was Maxim James Hunter; a successful businessman at only twenty-nine years of age. I ran a large multi-million-pound construction company and was responsible for building several successful hotels, bars, and leisure centres around Greater London.
Having lost a stillborn brother, I was an only child like Amber. And yes, my parents had given me a start in life to a certain extent but not the silver spoon variety. My dad had started Hunter Construction but I had gone above and beyond and doubled the size of the original company in only three short years. This had allowed my father to retire early and he now spent most of his time on the golf course or sunning himself with my mother at their villa in Spain, just as it should be.
Now I ran the show.
Amber had probably never worked an honest day in her life. Her father owned the firm I had partnered with for the bar extension. I had been forced to agree to that mutually beneficial fifty-fifty contract after Keith, my estimator, had broken the news about our finances. Most of my money was tied up in other shit. As I said, I needed a huge injection of cash and Lord Jonathan (aka Jonny) Charles Swift was the man I had sealed the deal with .
If I had known our agreement came with having to play the minder to his pampered little princess, I’d have walked away. It was only after we had signed the contract that he’d inserted that addendum; one to coach his only child through the project managing process of the job we were working together on. Amber must have woken up one morning bored with her usual mundane social events and thought today, today I want to be a project manager, just my frigging luck. At least Jonny hadn’t gotten too involved, his side of the partnership was more the silent type which I could just about tolerate.
“Any other questions?” Amber’s sultry, smoky voice filtered into the space. Her tone was melodic, almost drawing you in. That wasn’t the issue, it was what she said that rattled my cage. The woman had no filter.
Maintaining my poker face, I leaned back and perched on the edge of the desk behind me. Amber shot me a dismissive glance as the table creaked and I folded my arms across my chest whilst I watched her take questions.
As I cleared my throat, she shot me one of those dirty looks of hers, anyone out front wouldn’t have seen it. Amber was way too polished to allow the team to see her true side.
She was a rich, man-hating, stuck-up society princess with a huge stick up her arse, playing at project management. I was successful in my own right, a decent enough bloke if you didn’t take the piss, and yet, she looked down her nose at me . What the hell was that about ? As I said, I had a tough hide and shouldn’t give a shit but the fact that I was so disliked by a female who looked like her, wound me up.
Women didn’t hate me, and so what was wrong with this one? I had toyed with the possibility that she was gay, but the way she flirted with my foreman Wes had blown that idea right out of the water. My friend Gabriel said she probably had a high-society boyfriend. If there were a boyfriend in the mix, my sympathies were with the unfortunate fucker .
‘It’s almost like she looks through me and I’m not used to that from a woman,’ I had vented to my best friend Gabriel aka Gabe one night over drinks.
‘Maybe she’s just not that into you,’ Gabe had said with the biggest smile. So wide that I’d wanted to bitch-slap it off his face. He was like a brother to me and was well-practised at getting on my tits. He reckoned Amber and I fought so much because we fancied each other. No way! Yes, she was a looker and there was an attraction but I wouldn’t have touched her with someone else’s dick. Too much of a ball-ache. That itch would have to remain unscratched no matter how much it burned.
“Lady Swift,” a big guy everyone knew as Mash, suddenly piped up. His hand was raised in the air like Amber was a fricking teacher. Unfolding my arms, I shoved moodily off the desk and took a step forward, watching her like a hawk.
“Please it’s just Amber, Michael,” she replied, all sweetness and light. Amber’s attempt to fit in was laughable. On site, she lifted out like a stripper in a church.
“Sorry, Amber,” he back-peddled with a slight blush. A blush for Christ’s sake? The guy was built like a brick shithouse and looked meaner than me.
“It’s fine, Michael. You were saying?”
It fucked me off that she was on a first-name basis with someone who had worked for me for months and yet to me, he was Sanderson or that silly nickname of his, Mash. I hadn’t a clue what his first name was, until now of course. It made me feel like an ignorant twat that hadn’t taken the time to get to know his staff.
We were in one of the PortaKabins on site. I’d called a crisis meeting after the flooding situation. I had purposely suggested Amber field any questions and hold the floor. Purely to give the girl some experience. See, I did invest in my people but now the way she was handling the session had started to annoy me. Her stance suggested she was in charge when I was standing right there. I shifted closer .
At my nearness, I saw her flick me another sideways glance and she trembled. Interesting. She wasn’t as unfazed by my presence as she attempted to make out. The possibility of that fuelled my confidence. It meant I could knock her down a peg or two.
“You said something earlier about planning? Do you think we missed something?” Sanderson, aka Michael, questioned lowering his arm. He was watching her like she had all the answers with a massive toothy grin.
I was now so close to Amber, that my arm brushed her shoulder forcing her to take a nervous sidestep. And ‘interesting’ jumped up to the next level.
“Yes, we should have factored in floodproofing of all sections,” Amber stated, shooting me an accusatory look. What the hell did that mean? My temper started to simmer.
“We did, during the procurement cycle. I drafted that section myself,” I cut in, turning to look down at the titchy virago before me. Amber met my gaze, her eyes tangling with mine and I felt my throat tighten. At that point, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to shake the little piece of trouble or ram my mouth over hers to shut her up. How dare she stand in front of my staff and attempt to state that something had been missed; that I was in the wrong. Of all the nerve.
With a head tilt, she challenged me outright. “I checked the plans last night and there was no mention of preparing for flooding in phase two, even if we aren’t building on a floodplain, it should have been factored in.”
“It was factored in,” I stated bluntly, casting a glance around the room. The boys were wide-eyed as a strange atmosphere filtered into the space. Tension flared between us and a nervous cough was released. I slammed my attention back onto Amber, waiting, no, praying for her to call me a liar to my face.
Amber arched a perfect brow in a challenge, “Well, it isn’t on the version I have,” she exclaimed in a huffy voice, that slender neck of hers craning to meet my gaze. I inhaled and my chest expanded. I was ready for a fight. She had no idea what she was starting .
I took my sweet time to question her. “Which version do you have?” I asked, lifting one hand, and rubbing my thumb thoughtfully over my bottom lip.
Amber’s eyes fell to my mouth before she cleared her throat and glanced away briefly. “I can’t remember the file name off the top of my head,” she mumbled, her voice much lower. She didn’t like the fact that her comeback was piss-poor.
I chuckled, for her ears only and she shot me a scowl. You could hear a pin drop.
We remained in that squared-up stance for several seconds before another nervous cough pushed me into action. I turned towards the room, everyone was either standing to the sides or sitting on tables, all in high-vis work gear, awaiting instruction or the outcome of the private war unfolding before them.
It would be so easy to pull her apart in front of these people but I wasn’t that much of a dick.
“I suggest we recheck the plan together,” I stated, my eyes taking in the slight pink in her cheeks before turning towards the workforce. Her expression changed like she’d just sucked a lemon. I pushed the image of her sucking my cock from my mind.
“Wes, take your team and start to pump the water out. If you go to my office, you need Procurement Plan Horizon V3.56. There is a contingency in there which covers us for this situation. There are details of how best to clear the water, and mitigate the area. We need to ensure the floorings are dry to stop any future mould encroachment. Those not working on the footings in that section can crack on.”
“Sure thing boss,” he said respectfully.
“Once you have studied the plan, please drop it back off at my office,” I instructed. Then I could savour proving little Miss Know It All wrong.
“Will do. Let’s do it, lads,” Wes replied, addressing his team.
“Thank you, everyone, that will be all,” I informed the rest of the staff from my lofty position on the slightly raised stage. It was humble pie time .
Amber’s shoulders slumped and she went to walk away from me but I snagged her arm, holding her back none too gently by her slim bicep.
A flicker of something shot through her at my touch and I growled against the cuff of her tiny ear, “Not you.”
I felt her muscle flex beneath my fingers, my own skin was tingling even though I only touched the sleeve of her suit jacket; a jet-black number with a tight pencil skirt and those killer heels. She looked both business-like and slutty, a dangerous concoction.
Pulling her back around to face me, her eyes were wide and I twisted my head, waiting for the last of my employees to leave the cabin. What I had to say was for her ears alone.
The only sign of meekness was when Amber swallowed, her eyes watching me warily beneath her chestnut lashes. They were covered in a layer of black mascara but I could see their natural colour. Her scent teased my nostrils, the woman smelt divine.
I allowed Amber to tug herself free, but only after briefly tightening my grip. I needed to make the point that she got free because I let her. She then folded both arms across her chest and glared up at me. Yes, I was being a dick but she brought out my worst.
“Well, sir ?” she sassed. Her attitude inflamed my already fraying temper. She was such a gutsy little cow.
I narrowed my eyes, “Sir? I think that’s the first time you’ve called me that and I must say, I like it. I may insist that you call me that in the future.” I was behaving like an arrogant tool but the girl was asking for it.
Amber’s lip curled. “I doubt that’s ever going to happen, Max.”
My name on her lips sounded good, too good. I pushed away the unwelcome thought as I felt myself harden. Shit, it certainly wasn’t the time to be getting a stiffy .
Raising my eyebrows, I stepped further into Amber’s space and her eyes flickered towards the exit. Good, she should be nervous, attempting to make me look at fault in front of my staff.
“My father is the only man worthy of the title, sir,” she added, raising her chin.
“Yet you just said it,” I pointed out with a sneer.
“Yes, it’s called sarcasm,” she fired back. God, she was a smart arse. Her quick reply knocked me off my game, as did her sweet scent as it filled my nostrils. “Can you just tell me what’s eating you? Some of us have work to do.”
“You do realise that you work for me, not the other way around,” I stated, pointing between us, and then making a circular gesture with my finger. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, lording it over my men.”
“You told me to take questions.”
“I didn’t tell you to back-chat me,” I growled.
She shrugged her slight shoulders. “I was only speaking my mind. You said you encouraged that.”
I barked a laugh. “That’s the problem, you speak it too freely. You should get your facts right before pointing out non-existent holes in other people’s work.”
Amber’s body became stiffer than my usual morning glory as she said, “I obviously had an older version of the Procurement Plan, but why on earth you would keep past copies is beyond me. Doesn’t that just confuse things?”
“It’s a requirement of due diligence, you need a paper trail for audit purposes.”
“Well, something must be wrong with your filing then. I took out the one with the highest file number, just like you taught me. So, it must have been the right one.”
I shook my head. “It couldn’t have been?”
“How do you know?” Amber said with slitted eyes. The woman clearly had trust issues.
“Because the latest version has been on my desk for the past two days. I’ve been making minor amends,” I informed her with a condescending smirk .
“Oh,” she said, partly defeated but unable to back down for long.
“Yes. Oh,” I replied, shooting her a warning. Men twice this woman’s size would melt under that look but not her. Nope, Little Miss Swift just lifted her chin as if to say, bring it on.
“Well, if you had refiled the plan when you were done, I wouldn’t have looked at the wrong one. Are we done?” she snapped crossly, dropping her arms.
To be honest, I was more than done, but I needed to speak to her about the bloody charity ball. Damn.
“No,” I said on an exhale. Did I really want to do this, nope, but I had promised her father I’d take her to an annual social event. A local legal firm hosted a charity ball each year in the centre of London. The money raised was donated to several important causes, one of them being the Malala Fund which advocates for girls' education worldwide, a personal favourite of my mother’s.
“There is a charity ball event in a few weeks and I want you to be my plus one.”
Her nostrils flared and she stepped back, a frown lining her usually smooth forehead. “Sorry?”
I wondered what charities Amber supported, probably none. “It’s an annual thing and a great place to network. I’m going and you’re coming with me.”
Damn, that man and his demands. Jonny had been clear that he needed Amber out of the house that night. A ‘distraction’ he said, God knew what that meant but he’d been firm about it. I couldn’t afford to upset the old timer as I needed his money.
Amber exhaled, it was long and drawn out. You’d have thought I’d just asked her to visit the sewers with me, rather than what was a fairly ‘invite-only’ prestigious event. “Why me?”
“Well, if anything, at least you’ll look semi-decent on my arm,” I snarked, putting her down .
Distaste flickered across her face. She looked like I’d just told her she’d stood in dog shit. “I’m not a show pony.”
Fuck, a vision of Amber riding my cock slid into my thoughts.
“OK then. If you want to, you could view it as a date. Of sorts ,” I replied, mentally bleaching my brain. The woman was stunning and you’d have to be dead not to be attracted to her but I didn’t have a high enough tolerance level for her attitude. The image then changed to one of me with my hands around her throat. Fuck, that one was even hotter. I felt the need to adjust myself in my jeans.
What? I had kinks, so sue me.
Amber’s over-the-top scoff vetoed those dangerous thoughts, “ You’re asking me out on a date ?”
Clearing my throat, I corrected her. “You’re a laugh a minute, aren’t you? That’s why I added the of sorts comment,” I backpedalled. “No, this is a business thing. And a way of giving something back to society, if you even know what that means.”
“I give stuff back thank you very much,” Amber scoffed.
“I’m not talking about donating your designer cast-offs to charity shops, Amber.”
Her face contorted, “You’re such a dick,” she hissed, not making any attempt to correct me.
Pursing her lips, Amber raised her hands and ran them over her head, checking her hair. I took it as a defensive gesture. She also wore a silver-coloured necklace which she often played with, the pendant like that Tree of Life crap. I wasn’t one for that mythology nonsense, in my opinion, we were all in control of our own destinies.
From Amber’s sour expression, I knew she needed more convincing. “It will be good for you. ”
“And who are you to tell me what’s good for me?” she sniped, dropping her hands, and planting them on her waist. Amber was now armed for battle it appeared, which was amusing, I could probably span that waist with my hands.
“I’m your boss,” I pointed out thickly, moving into her personal space. I knew it was a dick move, looming over her like that but she needed a lesson in men. I couldn’t stand the woman, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what she’d look like during rough, angry sex.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, continuing to stand up to me. “So, it’s definitely not a date?”
“Believe me, if I did date. You’d be the last woman I’d choose,” I added, looking her up and down with a scornful expression that suggested I found her lacking. This caused her eyes to narrow again.
“Thank God for small mercies. And if I dated, you’d also be the last man I’d go for. I pity the girl who tries to straighten out your fucked up head.” She put some force behind those words but they sounded strained. She was lying.
I decided not to hold her potty mouth against her, that would make me a hypocrite as I swore like a trooper.
“You’re a contradiction on legs Max,” she added, glancing away for a moment before resting those cat-like eyes back on me. Fuck me but I’d love to hear her purr.
I snapped back to it. A contradiction on legs? Pot calling the kettle black and all that. “Is that right?” I whispered, my voice dipping. I knew she wasn’t as indifferent to me as she made out. I’d seen her little coy glances when she thought I wasn’t looking and of course, why wouldn’t she look? I knew it was conceited to admit it, but I was a God to most women.
And then the situation became even more unprofessional as Amber closed the small gap between us and ran one of her fingers down my chest. The feeling of her nails sliding between my pecs through my shirt sent a further spark of life into my junk. Oh dear, not good. I was approaching a full-mast scenario .
I attempted to feign indifference but failed as her expression became sultry and by all that’s holy, it worked.
“Shall I explain why you do nothing for me?” Amber muttered softly, her fingertip tracing my chest.
“If you must,” I replied hoarsely, taking a huge swallow. Was it me or had it suddenly become boiling in there?
Amber’s next words fortunately doused the fricking fire. “No woman wants to be with a misogynist pig with an ego the size of the city,” she drawled, dropping her hand and wiping her fingers as if she’d touched something dirty. The girl had a point about the ego part of that statement. What did you expect when I had never been told no by a female?
“I’m not a misogynist. I love women, regularly . And it’s not the size of my ego they’re thinking about.” What the actual hell was I doing? Lining myself up for a sexual harassment charge that’s what.
My comment did the trick and her next blush was almost as red as her hair. “Yes, I have heard about your bedroom antics, although I can’t say I’m impressed,” Amber volleyed, her mask back in place as she stepped away.
God this woman so rubbed me up the wrong way. “And why is that?”
“The word riddled comes to mind. It sounds like you’ll put your dick in anything,” she sassed.
“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Amber.” Again, what was I doing?
Huffing, she retained eye contact and changed the subject. “May I go now?”
My eyes roamed over her perfect curves. I bet her pussy tasted sweet. I’d have to gag her first though.
I redirected my thoughts. “You haven’t given me an answer about the charity ball yet?”
“Like I have a choice,” Amber mumbled under her breath.
I wiped the smirk from my face and gave her a stony look. “You’re right, you don’t. Upsetting the boss would not be one of your better life choices. I’m a bastard when I don’t get my way.” I knew I sounded like a prick but I was past caring. I found it interesting how her eyes flashed at my ballsy comment but she quickly dropped her chin. Was that a flash of excitement I saw or vulnerability? Who knew right? The woman could be as cryptic as a Rubik’s cube with the stickers moved around.
Amber ran a finely boned hand over her collarbone. She was so delicately put together with skin so pale you could see the blue of her veins. Eventually, her shoulders sagged and I mentally fist-bumped the air.
“Fine, if the date doesn’t clash with Daddy’s birthday party, I’ll go. What’s the dress code?” she said almost absently.
“Black tie.” And I knew it didn’t clash with Jonny’s seventieth birthday bash as I’d already checked the dates myself.
My mouth went dry as Amber started to fan her neck with the collar of her blouse, pulling it back and forth away from the skin of her throat. Her necklace ran into the valley of her breasts like an arrow. The flash of lace from her red bra shot straight to my dick and I gritted my teeth, hating that weakness. Red lace, bloody hell. It was my favourite colour, what could I say?
Clearing my throat, I went for the jugular. “Good. And whilst we’re talking about dress codes, we need to discuss what you wear to work,” I said, turning my nose up.
She folded her arms and shot me a death glare. “What about it?”
I motioned towards her body with one hand. “You’re working on a building site. You may want to wear something less trashy.”
And that did it. Temper flared across her face. “Trashy, I’m in business dress, not that you’d know what that looks like.”
Amber took a deep breath and then went for round two, eyeing my body.
“ You might want to rethink those shirts,” she sniggered, motioning towards my torso with a flick of her bright orange head .
I glanced down and straightened my top. “What the hell’s wrong with my shirts?”
Amber wrinkled her cute little nose and the freckles clustered together. “Nothing, if I need someone to chop wood for me. I think you’ll find lumberjack shirts went out about fifteen years ago.”
Yep, there was no doubt about it, the woman was a bitch and I couldn’t rein in my emotions. I felt amused, angry, and turned on at the same time. A messed-up selection of feelings for sure. “Like you’d remember, were you even born then?
A cocky expression twisted her features. “Well, we both know you were and so you should know better, old timer,” she volleyed back with a jut of her chin.
My proud smile dropped and I opened my mouth like a fish but no sound came out. I couldn’t string a sentence. It was like my words had been put in a blender. Her barb had met its mark. I was fast approaching a milestone birthday and was as touchy as fuck about it. Especially when all my younger friends took the piss.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to calm that flare of aggression. Amber’s face said it all; ‘come on, give me your best shot’ and I growled. “You’re such a little bitch.” Moving around her. I had to leave, the desire to either shake her until her teeth rattled or kiss her until my lungs burned was too strong.
“ I’ll take that as a compliment,” she mocked as I went to move away.
The look she shot me suggested she’d rather I take it up the arse. “And I’ll be in my office.” I barked, leaving the cabin, the realisation that she’d won grating on my last fucking nerve.
As I strode into my temporary site office, I almost knocked Annie, my secretary, over as she was coming out of the door.
“Balls,” I snarled in shock. “Sorry.”
Annie was unimpressed, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” she said. Apologising again, I steadied her and hurried past, praying she didn’t notice the hard-on I was sporting in my jeans .
I so needed to get my dick wet if Lady Swift had started to have this effect on me. I’d always thought her attractive but my interactions with her were becoming more sexually suggestive. From my end anyway, Amber appeared to be more in control of that side of herself. Maybe she was frigid? What? I’m a man, I had to blame the woman, that’s what we do.
Once Annie had left the room, I pulled my phone out and thumbed through my contacts, finding Natalie. She was the woman I had a friends-with-benefits arrangement. As the call went to voicemail, I adjusted myself in my jeans. My friend Gabe had also been there and we enjoyed competing for Nat’s affections. I left a message with an offer she couldn’t refuse.
I was a highly sexed individual and clearly needed to get some. My reaction towards sparring with Lady Swift could do one. Either that or I needed some more time in the ring.
I was a member of an underground fighting club. I needed an outlet for my anger regularly. As a teenager, my parents explained that I had been part of twins but that my brother had died during childbirth. I assumed that this was why I had always felt like a part of me was missing and I acted up. I’d never been socially comfortable anyway as a younger child but after that knowledge, it got worse. Self-pity was a bitch. I’d become destructive and fighting in a ring with some rules enabled me to turn that destructive energy into something else. To put it bluntly, the club allowed rich pricks like me to let off steam with each other.
So far, I was undefeated, I had a reputation and scared the shit out of most competitors.
God, I could do with beating the shit out of someone. Although when I’d fit that in with work, my annoying protégé, Jonny’s seventieth and the charity ball was anyone’s guess.
The need for nicotine pulsed through me .
Banging my fist on the desk, making the clutter on there, rattle, I felt annoyed that I’d been pressured into asking Amber to attend the charity ball. Talk about a glutton for punishment. I needed to keep her at arm's length, not drag her closer.
Under normal circumstances, courting danger was part of my DNA, but there was nothing normal about that woman. I wondered again why her father wanted her at the ball so badly. Maybe her prospective husband was there.
Bottom line; Amber-Leigh Swift and her family had complicated written all over them.
There was no way I would ever wrap myself up in that web of bullshit, whatever that was. The woman had issues. And unpicking them was never going to happen.
I’d rather chew my own dick off.
As I started racing through my inbox, my phone rang and I lifted it from the desk, swiping the screen to answer my friend Gabe’s call.
“About fucking time. You got my license yet?” I snapped. Any attempt to keep the pissed-off element out of my tone failed. Of course, it wasn’t Gabriel I was mad at.
“That’s why I’m calling,” he drawled lazily down the phone.
Shit, from his voice, it didn’t sound like good news. “What now?”
If Roger delayed my application again , I would have to go down to the council offices and talk to him with my fist.
Roger Beresford was the older brother of a guy I went to school with. A cocky little twat I’d beat the shit out of for picking on a younger dude. His brother Niall was a dick, they both were. Beresford had started to make waves with my alcohol license when I won a shit load of money from him at poker a few weeks ago. Yep, he also couldn’t gamble for shit.
“You were saying?” I prompted. Gabe’s chuckle was the equivalent of nails down a blackboard .
“You need to do some damage control.”
My blood started to boil. “What?”
“Some serious arse kissing. I must admit, that I’d like to see.” I could almost feel Gabe’s smile through the phone.
My brow scrunched and I pinched the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb. I closed my eyes. I was getting a headache, I was sure of it.
Dropping my hand and blinking, I listened as he explained how a member of my staff had been rude to Roger on the phone; a woman with a snooty voice and a bad attitude.
As realisation as to why I had to go down to the council offices and kiss Roger’s lardy arse kicked in, I shot to my feet in fury.
FFS! Taking Lady Swift under my wing was the worst thing I’d ever done. I ended the call without saying anything further and started pacing, trying to control my temper.
It appeared I needed to have another chat with my protégé, a very strongly worded one!