8. Weston
Eight
Weston
“ Y ou look like shit,” Ariq says, dropping a stack of mail on my desk. The sky is navy blue outside, speckled with stars, and we’re holed away in my office, high above the sidewalk.
I groan and scrub a hand down my face. “Thanks for noticing.”
No point denying it. It’s been a rough night and an even rougher day, my sanity fraying more and more as the clock ticks on. For all my declarations that I never want to see Lena Merritt again after our five nights are up, I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind with her gone.
It’ll be okay once she’s here. Once she’s snarking at me, and poking her tongue out, and softening my hard edges with her sly humor. Once I can stare shamelessly at her long legs and glossy black hair, and fantasize about peeling that black trench coat open.
Will she touch me again?
Will she let me touch her?
“You know,” Ariq says, poking idly at a stack of files on my desk, “if this whole brooding villain vibe isn’t working for you, there are other options available.”
I gust out a sigh. “I’m not trying to be a villain. Not generally, anyway.”
“Just to Lena Merritt.”
“Right.”
The fact that I have epically failed to break the Merritt princess’s spirit at every step of the way doesn’t change the fact that I set out to punish her. To get revenge for her family’s sense of toxic entitlement. To demonstrate my bottomless rage that they crawled to me, of all people, for financial help after years of treating me like dirt under their shoes.
You’ve been such a jerk to me. You think I can help who my parents are?
My skull throbs.
The top desk drawer trundles open, and Ariq’s knowing gaze bores into me as I root around for a bottle of painkillers. There’s a telltale rattle at the back somewhere.
“Another headache?”
I grunt, finding the bottle and shaking two pills into my palm.
“Weird,” my assistant says, his tone pointed.
And Christ, at moments like this, part of me sees why Hugh Merritt wanted nothing but yes men all around him. It was a constant source of anger for me—being expected to work miracles while simultaneously tiptoeing around all the boss’s bad ideas. If I’d been born with a single cent to my name, I would have been spared those years of aggravation.
The fact that my assistant feels comfortable enough to call me out is both a blessing and a curse. Can’t a man be a monster in peace?
“So,” Ariq says, sliding his hands into his pockets. His suit is sharply cut and tailored to his form—evidence that I pay him well for these irritating opinions. “What will you make Lena Merritt do tonight? You’ve already had her polish all the staff’s shoes and scrub your toilet. Weak sauce, if you don’t mind me saying. What else have you got planned?”
Good question.
“Go walk the floors, Ariq.” I toss the pills back and swig from a glass water bottle, glaring at my assistant all the while. He smiles back, undaunted, as I swallow and set the bottle down with a thump. “We’re trying to run a luxury casino, not rehabilitate my personality.”
Ariq shrugs and strolls toward the door. “As it says on my resume, I’m an excellent multi-tasker.”
Once he’s gone, blessed silence reigns. Alone at last. My fingertips rub my temples while steady breaths draw in and out of my lungs, and to an outside observer, I’d seem calm—but inside, I’m rioting.
Lena. Lena. Lena.
The clock shows seven fifty six. Four more minutes before she’s here once again, shattering my peace and making me feel alive for the first time in months.
What do I have planned for her? That’s a better question than Ariq knows, because I have no goddamn clue what to do with the last three nights I bargained for. The thought of more mild torture makes my gut clench in protest, every cell in my body refusing to make her unhappy—but I need to do something with Lena. Something to justify the small fortune I’ll pay for her father’s debts after our nights are up.
Sex is off the table. Or at least… it’s not part of our deal.
If I want Lena that way, I’ll have to earn her.
Just like that, snippets from last night batter my exhausted brain: Lena on her knees, cheeks flushed, as she tugged my belt open; Lena’s lips stretching around my cock; Lena showing me her tongue afterward, equal parts eager and defiant. These flashes have been torturing me all day, ruining my focus and keeping me constantly half-hard, and now I grip the edge of the desk for balance as I’m assailed once again.
Will I ever get this woman out of my system? Or will she haunt me for weeks, months, years after our bargain is done? What if I’m wrecked for life?
A soft knock on the door jolts me out of my brooding. “Come in,” I call, forcing myself to stop gripping the desk.
Lena slips inside and shuts the door behind her, then turns to face me. At the sight of her pale, drawn features and the shadows beneath her eyes, my stomach plummets.
“Lena?”
Her chin wobbles.
My chair shoves back, and I’m reaching for her as Lena hurries across the office and flings herself into my arms. She’s so small, gathered into my lap—delicate and trembling. The tip of her nose is ice-cold against my throat, and I clutch her closer, my heart thudding where she’s plastered to my chest.
“ Lena .”
She lets out a noise that’s half laugh, half sob and burrows closer. Her floral scent is all around me, snaking into my lungs.
“Shoot,” she says. “I was gonna play it so much cooler than this.”
“Are you…” My voice drops, horror gnawing on my bones. “Is this because of last night? Did I hurt you?”
I will never fucking forgive myself if I did. Our bargain is one thing, a safe battle of wills, but if I actually harmed Lena in that way… acid churns in my gut at the thought. How could I be so careless?
“No,” Lena scoffs, cutting through my burgeoning self-hatred like a hot knife through butter. “Don’t flatter yourself. That was all my idea anyway.”
Thank god.
“Then what—?”
“My parents.” Lena’s nose rubs against my neck, and a pleased shudder rolls down my spine. She feels so good in my lap, so right. Could we have been doing this the whole time? “You know better than anyone what they can be like, Weston. Well, last night they hit a new low.”
I stifle a growl in my throat. There’s no point in showing that anger, not when the people to blame aren’t even here. “What happened?”
If the Merritts sensed what happened between us somehow, if they shamed Lena for it, I swear to god—
“It doesn’t matter.” Lena sits up suddenly, like she’s finally realized what we’re doing. She blinks down at the sight of herself in my lap, her palms spread over my chest. My arms have wrapped around her, holding her close. “Huh,” Lena says.
“It does matter.” I duck my chin but she won’t meet my gaze. Instead, Lena bats my arms away and slides off my lap, tugging her clothes straight like nothing ever happened. She strides around the desk, putting the furniture safely between us.
Every new inch of distance between us makes my chest ache.
I sit up straighter in my chair, oddly flustered.
“Whatever your parents have done—”
“Weston?” Lena finally meets my eye, forcing a smile. “It’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But if I could help—”
“You’re already helping.” Her head tilts, dark hair sliding over one shoulder, and her words are soft but bitter. “Remember? That’s our whole deal. I let you humiliate me for five nights, then you save my family.”
I’d save her anyway. The thought spears through me, white-hot and undeniable. There was no need for this circus; no need to make Lena lower herself and beg. No need to make her hate me this badly.
If Lena Merritt is ever in trouble, I will drop everything to help her, family grudge be damned. The realization is a hit of sweet relief, my constant headache fading into the background. What I’ve been doing to her is wrong, all wrong.
I’ve been making Lena pay for the sins of her father. Holding her accountable for things she had no control over. All because deep down, I figured the Merritt princess would never want me back, would never take me seriously no matter my wealth and power, all while I hungered for her like a starving man at a feast.
The hurt and embarrassment that wanting her caused me—I twisted it around and used it like a weapon. But it was always her father’s voice telling me I wasn’t good enough, not hers.
“Lena,” I rasp, my chest hollowed out and raw. Turns out I’m not the man I hoped to be. What a time to realize that fact.
“So what’ll it be tonight?” she asks, oblivious to the fact that my inner world has just turned upside down. That everything has changed for me in the space of one revelation, and now I’m lost. Unmoored.
What would the two of us be like together if I stopped resenting Lena Merritt? Is it too late to find out? Have I trampled on every chance I ever had with her?
“I, uh…”
“Come on.” Lena folds her arms and raises her chin. She’s in that black trench coat again, some mystery dress beneath, with a pair of heels that make her legs look endless. “Whatever it is, I can handle it. Lay it on me, Weston.”
Beneath the bravado, there’s a fragile note to her voice. Like Lena needs this somehow—the chance to prove herself to me and everyone else who doubts her. The chance to give the world the finger.
Well, she might hate me for our bargain, but if this is what Lena needs from me… this is what I’ll give. Orders for her to overcome.
And this time, we might both enjoy it.