Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Carley
ONE MONTH LATER
The past month has been hell.
I was so excited to start this new job, but it’s kicking my ass.
Well, my new boss is the one doing the kicking.
I wasn’t even hired for this position. I was interviewed for the role of executive assistant to the director of human resources, so imagine my surprise when I get there, and I’m told they think I would be a better fit as the assistant to the CEO.
I was ecstatic—it felt like I got a promotion on my first day—and so were my parents, but I honestly don’t know if I’m cut out for it.
Dimos Anastos is very smart and extremely successful. He was a self-made millionaire by the time he was thirty, when he first started Okeanós. Now, fifteen years later, he’s worth over fifteen billion dollars.
Unfortunately, he’s also an arrogant, standoffish prick.
So much so, I’m already on the hunt for a new job.
I called the firms I turned down initially and asked if they would still consider me, but they’ve already filled their open positions.
I managed to get an interview at two other companies, however, which take place next week.
“Oh, come on, Carley!” Saylor screeches at me as I flop down on our sofa.
She is itching to go out and hell-bent on dragging me along with her.
“All you’ve done since we got home from Greece is sulk. Let’s go out and find you a new guy. Someone to get your mind off Mr. Golden Dick.”
And then there’s that…
My shoulders slump farther at the mention of Nick. The worst thing I ever could have done besides having a one-night stand—a blazing hot, multiple orgasms from a drop-dead gorgeous, tall, dark, and handsome stranger one-night stand—was leave his bed in the morning without even a goodbye.
If I stayed, who knows what would have happened.
Maybe we would have exchanged phone numbers so we could keep in contact with one another.
But when I woke up that morning, I was too nervous to face him.
If I’m honest, I was scared he was going to wake up regretting what happened.
That he would realize he made a mistake.
So I left without taking into consideration that no one else I meet in this lifetime will ever measure up to him.
They’ll never measure up to Nick Evans.
”I’m really tired, Say. It’s been a long week.”
“I know! All the more reason to go out and blow off some steam.”
I can’t keep up with Saylor on a social level even on a good week. While I don’t want to go, maybe it would help if I got back out there and tried to find someone to get my mind off him. It would keep me from another pointless Google search for Nick Evans from Hermosa Beach.
There isn’t a Nick Evans in Hermosa Beach, by the way.
I try to believe he didn’t lie to me about his name or where he lived, but even if he did, I have no business getting mad at him about it, right?
Perhaps he was also trying to keep a low profile in Greece?
As much sense as it makes, and as much as I have no right to be upset with him, I am.
I begin to stew in my anger as Saylor continues her plea.
“We can grab drinks at The Lounge and then head over to Lush after that. I told you Rocky just started working the door over there. We won’t have to wait in line, and we’ll have access to the VIP area.”
The more I think about being lied to, the angrier I get. At Nick. At myself. At that jackass Dimos Anastos.
I take a deep, soothing breath, and something inside of me stirs. Whether it be reminiscent feelings from Greece I would die to feel again, or the desire to drink away the stress caused by my overbearing boss, I finally cave.
“Fine, I’ll go,” I tell Saylor.
She claps her hands together and jumps up onto the sofa in celebration.
“But no more drunken, slutty one-night stands for me. Ever. Okay?”
“Whatever you say,” Saylor answers with a mischievous smile.
* * *
The Lounge was fairly quiet for a Friday night.
Something I was more than okay with because we were actually able to find seats, which is usually impossible.
Saylor called some of our other friends to join us, including Brittany, much to my dismay.
She’s just like Saylor in the sense that she is a rich socialite with zero real-life responsibilities and more money than she knows what to do with.
Although unlike Saylor, she thinks she’s God’s gift to the world, and everyone should worship at her feet.
Brittany and I have been frenemies for the better part of our entire lives. We each know how the other ticks, we invite each other to parties and other events, but we don’t exactly like one another. It’s stupid, really.
“Carley, that guy over there can’t keep his eyes off of you.”
I look over at Brittany, ignoring her eye roll, as she nods her head toward a chair across the room. When I turn to see who she’s talking about, I lock eyes on a handsome blond with rosy cheeks and dark eyes. After a slight smile, I return to the group of girls around me.
“Meh,” I shrug. “He’s not my type.”
“And what’s your type?” Brittany asks with attitude in her tone.
Nick flashes into my mind, and I close my eyes.
“Just … not that,” I explain, opening my eyes once again as the image of Nick vanishes.
I feel my phone vibrate in my clutch, and I fish it out. Checking the notifications, I see I have an email from Mr. Anastos.
Don’t look at it. It can wait until Monday.
But I can’t help myself. I have to know what short, nasty put-down he has for me this time. I swear, it gets worse with each email.
Carley—
He never says hi.
I was just looking over the office expenditures report you sent this afternoon. The margins are off and there should be an additional space between each line. Furthermore, the total is off by seventy-three cents.
I’ll need this fixed and sent back to me by lunchtime tomorrow.
—D.A.
“Tomorrow?” I shout. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Carley, what’s wrong?” Saylor asks.
“That bastard wants me to work tomorrow.”
Brittany looks at me like I have two heads, and she forgets I have a job.
“Mr. Anastos. You know, my boss. He just sent me an email saying he needs me to fix a report and have it to him by lunchtime tomorrow.”
“Can’t you just tell him you’re sick? Or save it until Monday? Maybe he forgot what day of the week it is.”
“No, Brittany, I can’t just blow off my boss. You’d understand if you worked a day in your life.”
“Okay, look,” Saylor interrupts our spat before it escalates. “Carley, put your phone away and worry about the reports tomorrow. You have to remember, you don’t work at your father’s company anymore. You’re in the real world now. People aren’t going to cater to you.”
I try not to let my hurt feelings show at her words. She’s absolutely correct, but it still hurts hearing it. Socialite party-girl or not, Saylor definitely has a handle on the workings of the real world.
“Right now, you have a hot blond who can’t take his eyes off of you.”
Saylor takes my cell phone from my hand and nods in the direction of the guy across the room.
“Go,” she commands.
If for nothing other than to get away from the shit-eating grin on Brittany’s face, I get up and walk over to the boy.
Yes, boy. I spend thirty minutes speaking with him—which was about twenty-nine minutes too long—before I excuse myself to the restroom, make sure he’s not looking, grab my purse, and then tell Saylor I’ll see her at home later.
The boy was nice. He was friendly and smart. But he just wasn’t who I wanted.
He wasn’t Nick.
* * *
When I awaken, my eyelids are almost too heavy to lift. Until I feel something burrowing between my legs, slipping in between the swollen folds of my pussy. My breath hitches, and I’m frightened for a moment before I remember where I am.
I’m in Nick’s suite.
In Nick’s bed.
“Are you ready for round two, théa?”
His voice filters over my shoulder from behind me, his body melded to mine. His front against my back, his long arm curled around my body as his fingers wreak havoc between my legs for the thousandth time this evening.
I barely remember falling asleep after he …
I can feel the fire burn my cheeks as I recall the way he balanced me across the back of the sofa, holding me steady so I wouldn’t fall, and licking me until I came undone.
Holy hell.
The way he fucked me as he had me bent over on the surface of the desk. It was the most pleasurable sex I’ve ever had. My blood feels like it’s rushing to my core, throbbing intensely over my clit as another orgasm begins to rocket through me.
“Oh my god.”
Rolling me over, he climbs on top of me as my orgasm begins to dissipate. As I gaze into Nick’s eyes, I see a darkness I haven’t seen in them before.
It’s possessive. It’s hungry. It’s feral.
He makes a show of licking my arousal off his fingers before pushing them inside of me again.
“Nick…” I cry out just as his mouth covers mine, swallowing the sound of my pleasure before it’s able to echo off the walls of his suite.
Keeping me just on the edge, he removes his fingers and brings them to my nipple. He traces a damp path around each before reaching between us once more and lining his cock up to the entrance of my pussy again.
“Nick, I don’t think I have anything left in me.”
“But I promised you five more orgasms tonight. I never break a promise.”
Thrusting his hips, he enters me fiercely as my eyes roll into the back of my head.
He scoots his knees under him so he’s kneeling before me, spreading my legs open wide on either side of him.
Fucking me savagely, he grabs my clit between his fingers and tears leak from my eyelids as I reach the euphoric place only Nick can send me to, once again.
Gasping for air, I sit up as I realize I’m back in my own bed. On the Upper West Side. I’m not in Greece. I’m not getting fucked relentlessly by Nick until I’m no more than a floppy rag doll.
I am, however, throbbing between my legs at the memory my subconscious likes to remind me of so often.
I fling myself back onto my pillow and wallow in my bitterness for a little while. Several minutes pass without any reprieve from the pulsating feeling of desire flowing straight to my core. My clit feels like it’s as large as a damn marble. As hard as one, too.
Fuck, I need relief.
I’ve been making a habit out of this. Wild sex dreams starring Nick and me. Waking up panting. Desperately in need of relief. I have to put a stop to this madness.
Tomorrow.
Unable to stop myself, I reach between my sweaty thighs and connect with my clit. As I pull the image of us in his bed back to the forefront of my mind, I rub myself faster and faster until I cry his name as quietly as I can into my empty room.
I thought the memory of him would fade the longer I went without seeing or speaking to him. Seems I was incredibly wrong about that.
As I come down off my high, the realization hits me.
I screwed myself in Greece when I left Nick’s room without saying goodbye, and because of my stupidity, I’ve been stuck screwing myself ever since.