Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
ROWDY
R ed’s no morning person. But I can’t blame her, seeing as I kept her up most of the night again. Fire ignites in my chest, thinking about our horseback ride and my mother’s ring on her finger, the dinner I had catered at the ranch to avoid the paparazzi, and another night of mind-blowing sex.
My mind flashes back to the redheaded vixen on her knees, sucking my cock until her cheeks hollowed, staring up at me with those gorgeous green eyes of hers as she uncoiled my self-control, one swirl of her tongue at a time. And the way she swallowed without hesitation before licking her lips and wiping her chin. It makes the blood rush straight to my cock again.
Whatever beast this woman has awakened in me is greedy as hell. But I can tell by her soft breathing and relaxed pose she needs some rest. So, I crawl out of bed, quietly padding across the carpet and grabbing my robe and slippers before beelining for the kitchen to make coffee.
The maker drips and percolates, wafting the robust aroma of French roast in the nippy morning air. I pull a stool up to the kitchen counter, and open my phone, finding a string of texts and calls from Shelley that breed immediate concern. Each text and voicemail says the same thing. “Please, Mr. Jameson, I need to talk to you.” Even more alarming, her last voicemail sounds like she’s been crying.
Seeing a couple of texts from this morning, I dial her number, assuming it can’t be too early. I stride into the kitchen, grab a mug, and fill it with my brew, lightening it with creamer before heading into the living room to sit at the dining table. The call goes to voicemail. I try again, and she answers on the first ring.
“Oh, I’m so glad you called back.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I really, really need to talk to you. But I need to do it in person, and I don’t want your…um…you know, fiancée or whatever she is there.”
My brows furrow, and I straighten, feeling uncomfortable about the direction this call is heading. “Ms. Cash is half-partner in the company. Anything you need to say, you can say in her presence,” I bark.
“Please, Mr. Jameson. I’m begging you, and so are your other employees. You hired us, not her . And before this partnership goes any further, you owe it to us to explain what’s happening.”
Well, fuck. I shake my head. “What do you propose?”
“Can you meet us at the office this morning?”
“How soon?” I grumble.
“The sooner the better.”
I exhale sharply. “Alright, give me a half hour. If the whole crew feels it’s urgent, I’ll make time to address their concerns.”
“Thank you.”
I grunt, hanging up the phone. After dressing quietly, I scrawl a note, leaving it on the kitchen counter for Red.
Thirty minutes later, I pull into the Jameson & Cash parking lot, seeing Shelley’s car. Thankfully, no rogue camera people lie in weight, but where are my other employees’ cars? I find Shelley upstairs in the conference room, and an uncomfortable feeling seizes me.
“Where’s everyone else?”
She sports a PINK jogging suit with a tank top that shows more of her cleavage than I care to see, so I avert my eyes. She could show up in a fucking bikini or her birthday suit, and I would be no more interested. Red is my everything. No other woman will ever come close to her.
“Is everyone else on their way?” I ask gruffly.
She shrugs. “Have a seat. We should give them a few minutes.”
I begrudgingly sit down, drumming my fingers on the conference table and surfing the internet on my phone. Good God. Every other story is about Lesley and our impending engagement and partnership. It’s insane. Fifteen minutes in, and I look across the table at her. “Well, where is everyone?”
Shelley smiles coyly. “I guess it’s just you and me, Ronald.”
I frown, my eyes narrowing.
“I mean, Rowdy.”
I shake my head, my eyes drilling into her. She stammers, “I mean, Mr. Jameson.” That’s more like it.
“You alluded to the fact other employees would be here. What’s their ETA?”
She smiles seductively, and now I’m ready to leave. “You could say I speak on their behalf.”
“On whose authority?” I counter, standing up to go.
She follows me to her feet. “Yesterday, when you didn’t come to work, I called a meeting with everyone. After a tense discussion, we agreed that either Ms. Cash goes or we all walk.”
“What?” I ask with a grimace. “This is fucking outlandish.”
She holds up a hand. “I thought you’d be upset, considering you’re engaged to her. But she’s terrible, Mr. Jameson! You should have heard how she yelled at me and what she said the other day. Ask any of the other employees. They heard her, too.”
I cross my arms, hardening my face. “I admit Red’s a little rough around the edges, and her speech can be colorful at times. But I expect you to show her the same respect you show me.”
Shelly bites her lower lip, shaking her head. “Don’t let her fool you, sir.”
“Fool me? What do you mean?”
“She plans on taking Jameson & Cash from you. I overheard her on the phone in her car, talking with someone about how they’re going to push you to take the company public before buying out the majority shares, leaving you high and dry. I think technically it’s called a hostile takeover.”
I shake my head, unable to process her words. Lesley may be many things, but she’s no traitor or liar. As for Shelley, this manipulative new side of her is unbecoming and maybe even unemployable.
She shuffles closer, angling her body to show off her cleavage better, and I step back, annoyed the woman can’t take a hint. “The person she spoke to in the car asked her to take photos of the new line and send them to him along with the tech pack. You know, corporate espionage.”
“What in the world?”
“And she made me walk her through the clothing line, snapping countless pictures. She also demanded I send her a copy of the tech pack and the changes we made during the first fit testing.”
I stand up, ready to leave. “I don’t know what you think you heard, but Lesley would never do that to me. There’s no way.”
“Sir, she’s using you.”
“No, it’s time to go,” I say, motioning towards the door.
“Will you at least make her show you her phone? See if she’s texted any photos of the line to a third party?”
I grab her by the elbow, steering her out and into an onslaught of strangers with cameras. “What in the fuck is this?”
“The paparazzi I warned you about,” Shelley answers with a giggle. Flipping around to face me, she stops me in my tracks. Before I can step back, Shelley throws her arms around my neck in a stranglehold, planting a big kiss on my lips. She does it with such force that it knocks my cowboy hat off with a splash onto the slushy, wet parking lot pavement.
Click, click, click, click. A thousand shutters sound as I wrestle to free myself from her arms, looped tightly around my neck. I take a couple of large strides backward. “Have you lost your mind, Shelley? What in the world’s gotten into you?“
“You deserve better than Red, sir. Please promise me you’ll check her phone. And please consider someone else.”
I side-step her, grabbing my hat and shooting her a venomous look. “Don’t ever kiss me again. Don’t ever use my private phone line. And know that you owe Ms. Cash more than an apology on Monday morning.” The last Monday morning for Shelley…
I reset the building’s alarm, cameras clicking around me, and voices yelling questions and provocative statements. What a fucking nightmare. Turning around, I point towards the group of parasites who make their living off candid images of other people’s drama, promising, “If you follow me onto my property, I will shoot your ass for trespassing.” Their eyes round, and I smile with satisfaction. Welcome to small-town USA, dipshits.
Fighting my way through the small, persistent crowd of journalists screaming questions and shoving cameras in my face, I jump into my dually and drive away. What a fucking shit show.