Chapter 15
Sadie
Isat breathless on the same leather sofa I had first sat in two weeks ago when I realized that Mr. Penthouse was my new boss, making my already complicated life even more complex.
Tonight didn’t help anything. I couldn’t believe I went from almost throwing up in the bathroom to having sex with him.
Again. It was foolish, but I couldn’t help the way my body surrendered to Jeremiah.
I clutched his suit jacket around my naked body, trying to cover the most intimate parts, as if he hadn’t already seen them.
Had his hands on them just minutes ago. Jeremiah looked at me from where he leaned against his desk.
An amused smile spread across his lips over my newfound modesty.
I tucked myself further into the corner of the sofa.
“What?” I asked sharper than I intended, holding the lapels against my chest.
“Nothing.” He shrugged with a smirk, as he worked the clasp on his pants he had put back on.
I watched as he slid on his shirt over his strong arms, but he left the buttons undone, revealing his tan chest and stomach.
I should have been satiated after what we just did, but I felt a hunger grow in me.
I swallowed it down, trying to stifle it.
I looked around the office for my clothes, but was unable to spot my navy blazer and matching slacks Jeremiah had practically torn from my body.
They were probably in a pile under his desk where he had tossed them in the heat of the moment.
I felt even more naked now that he was practically fully clothed.
A whisper of self-doubt came over me as I realized this was probably his way of saying it was time to go.
I went to stand from the couch, but stopped when he walked over to the large wooden bookshelf across from me and pulled a bottle of bourbon from its velvet case before pouring it in two glass tumblers.
He wasn’t asking me to leave. He was asking me to stay. It meant more than it should have.
He turned and offered me the glass of amber liquid, his hand outstretched.
“Oh, um. I’m okay. Thanks,” I said.
He gave me a curious look before leaning over and setting the glass of bourbon on the small glass table next to me, his tan skin under his shirt still damp from sweat. I could still taste its saltiness on my lips.
“I’m just not much of a drinker,” I commented with a shrug.
He cocked his head in confusion, his dark hair falling over his forehead, making me want to brush it away. “But that night at my place…” he said confused.
I thought back to the wine I had to calm my nerves before breaking into his place, and then the bourbon I had drank with him by the window.
Both drinks I indulged in to calm my nerves and also to give me the liquid courage I needed, leading to the best sex of my life.
They were one-offs, but I usually saved a glass of champagne or wine for special occasions.
“I know. But I had just scaled a building and my nerves were on edge.”
He considered this for a moment.
“From the climb or something else?” he asked looking down at me, his blue eyes darkening slightly.
I felt heat creep to my cheeks. He was far more nerve-wracking than scaling twenty floors on a fire escape. He knew it, too.
He looked down at his drink, but didn’t take a sip.
“Don’t let me stop you.” I nodded to the glass in his hands. “Drinking is just not really my thing. My ex solidified that.”
He searched my eyes questioningly before easing himself on the sofa next to me. He took a long sip of bourbon before saying, “Go on.” He was prodding.
I gave him a weak smile before looking down at my hands that lay in my lap, still holding his jacket closed against the pale of my skin.
I thought about Nick and the liquor on his breath every time he gaslit me into thinking I was the problem.
I didn’t realize he was doing it until long after he had broken up with me.
The debt was all my fault. The cheating was all my fault.
The problems in our relationship were all my fault.
It was easier to take the blame than argue with someone who was drunk.
“When you date someone who always has a drink in their hands, you sort of develop a resentment toward liquor,” I said softly.
“I can understand that,” said Jeremiah, his voice gentle.
I had never heard him talk to me, or anyone, like that before.
I felt my walls come down a little. Even the hand that tightly grasped the front of his jacket eased, letting it fall gently open against the curves of my breasts.
Jeremiah’s eyes dipped lower before returning to mine.
“So, who was this guy?” he asked, leaning his arm casually over the back of the couch.
“Who? My ex?” I laughed, wondering why he was so interested. We never talked about anything personal.
“Yeah.” He shrugged, before taking another sip of bourbon. “When did he obtain that title?”
“A few months ago. That’s why I’m living in your building now. But it’s only temporary.”
“You two lived together?” He raised his brows in slight surprise. I swore there was a hint of jealousy in the question.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Until he somehow convinced me to move out.”
I shouldn’t have told him that. I could tell from the disappointment that flickered in his eyes that I was just adding to the list of things that made me weak.
“But I’m okay,” I said assuredly. “I’m only at my Airbnb temporarily. As soon as I find a place that’s more affordable, I am out of there.”
He just nodded, a knowing look in his eyes.
“What?” I asked, crossing my arms defensively. I was bracing myself for another lecture on how I needed to stand up for myself.
“I was just wondering how you managed to end up in the building in the first place. It’s not exactly cheap.”
“Are you saying I’m not good for it?” I asked, raising a brow.
“No, but I know what your salary is.”
Of course he did. He was my boss. I wondered what else he had dug up in my file when he went looking. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“Do you have some sort of side hustle or something?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You know, to help you afford rent.”
I crossed my arms even tighter against my chest. What the hell was he implying? He should know I didn’t. Most of my time was spent here under his rule. I hardly had time for anything else.
“No, I don’t have a side hustle.”
He put his hands up in sarcastic defense, which just pissed me off even more. He thought this was funny.
“Look, if you think I’m doing some sort of under the table work…or something unsavory…” My voice dropped to a whisper at the last word, as I looked around as if anyone was there to hear.
He chuckled and shook his head.
“What’s so funny?” I asked coolly, studying his face for answers.
“It’s just you are the last person I would think was doing anything unsavory. In fact, I’d bet my empire on the fact that you’ve probably never done anything unsavory in your life.”
“You don’t know me,” I said defensively, even though he was right.
“Okay, then tell me something you’ve done. Stolen a pack of gum when you were little? Gotten a B on your homework?” He grinned at me, seeing right through me. He was enjoying this.
“I’m not telling you anything,” I huffed.
“Because there’s nothing to tell,” he said with a cocky shrug. “You know, maybe you should. Maybe that’s your problem. Live a little.”
I wondered what he thought this was, this thing between us. This was the craziest thing I had ever done, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him. I couldn’t give him that satisfaction.
“I don’t have a problem. I like my life just fine.” I tilted my chin up confidently.
“Uh-huh. Sure you do.” He took another sip of his drink, smiling into his glass. I hated how good he looked when he was smug. It wasn’t fair.
My eyes narrowed.
“Are you always this much of a jerk? Like, is this your thing?” I pointed my finger up and down at him.
“It’s one of my things.” He drummed his fingers on the back of the couch, dangerously close to my shoulder. His eyes fell to where we almost touched before finding mine again.
“What’s another one?” I asked.
“Pretty women like you who are easy to piss off.” He glanced away, looking into his drink he swirled in his hands.
He always had something smooth to say. Yet, I found myself wanting to know more about him, even though the more I learned seemed to infuriate me all while piquing my interest.
“There’s more to you,” I murmured softly.
“Than what?” He raised a brow, his gaze challenging mine.
“Than this whole billionaire persona you’ve got going on.”
“Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart.” His hand fell from the back of the sofa and trailed the lapel of his jacket I wore, his fingertips grazing my skin between my breasts before returning to the couch. I felt an ache at the absence of his touch.
He was trying to distract me from digging further. Someone who does that has something to hide. That was why he had such a cocky attitude. To push people away. No one could be this much of an asshole. He was trying to keep people from seeing who he really was, but I could see right through it.
Jeremiah had demons. I wondered what his dark secrets his past held to make him this way.
Cold and unyielding. I remembered reading an article about how a large percentage of big-time CEO’s are psychopaths.
Looking at him now, his eyes were dark with storms. I shuddered and stood up suddenly from the couch, aware that his jacket barely skimmed my upper thighs.
“I should go,” I said nervously.
“Fine.” He waved me off dismissively, and it hurt more than it should. “But I expect you to be here bright and early. I don’t care how late it is.” He glanced toward the clock on the wall that read 3:00 a.m.
“Of course, you do,” I muttered before walking to his desk and kneeling on the ground in search of my clothes. I found them in a crumpled pile. I gathered the pile in my arms and stood up, clutching it against me as I headed for the door with the intention of changing in the bathroom.
“Don’t forget the cameras,” he said, nodding to the dim hallway beyond.
I sighed defeatedly before slipping on my underwear and slacks, every part of me aware that Jeremiah watched from the couch. He was enjoying the show. I whispered some choice words under my breath.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I muttered.
“I’ll take my jacket now,” he said, holding out an outstretched hand.
I shot him a look of poison before turning my back to him and shrugging the jacket off.
I threw it behind me, careful not to give him a glimpse of my bare breasts, as if he hadn’t just had them in his mouth tonight.
I heard him laugh behind me. I slipped my blouse over my head and slid on my blazer before heading for the door.
“Oh, be on the lookout for five thousand dollars in your bank account tomorrow.”
I spun around and looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”
“To replace those hideous clothes of yours.” His eyes ran down me with only judgment.
My hand twitched, wanting to badly to give him a vulgar gesture, but I just turned and walked out the door.
Insufferable asshole.