Chapter 8
Anthony
Karen’s voice is grating today. It always sounds a little like nails on a chalkboard. Smooth-edged, polite, but with that undercurrent of screeching steel she’s spent years perfecting. It digs under my skin like sandpaper directly against a nerve.
“This is the third season in a row that the European market’s plateaued,” she says, standing at the edge of my office and touching my trinkets like she owns the place.
She spins a vintage globe on my bookshelf, and I nearly throw my laptop at her.
“I’ve spoken with two of the buyers from Milan.
They’re concerned about the creative inconsistency—”
“They said that to you?” I interrupt, raising a brow at her. “That’s interesting. I seem to remember both of them completely ignoring your presence at last year’s launch.”
She shoots me a glare. “They were busy then. They’re not busy now. That’s one of the problems,” she hisses. “They’re starting to wonder if you’ve lost your focus.”
I lean back in my chair, resting my temple on my fingertips. “Let them wonder. My focus is fine.”
What I don’t say is that I’ve never been this focused, not in a long time at least. My thoughts have whittled down to sharp points: the future, my name, my control, my heir. And April.
“Anthony, we need to talk about restructuring.” She steps closer, leaning on my desk. “You can’t put off your problems forever.”
“I’m not putting anything off,” I say slowly, holding her gaze instead of shouting at her. “I have everything under control.”
She gives me a look of heavy skepticism.
As her brows come together, her wrinkles become more visible.
“Does this mysterious “control” involve you actually sharing it with the board? Or is the issue with your successor going to be another solo endeavor where we all find out after you’ve already pulled the trigger? ”
Before I can respond, the door swings open without warning.
April storms in like a hurricane with legs; her face contorted in what I can only describe as fury. Her cheeks are flushed, her blonde bun loose and disheveled, and one hand is clutching a bent copy of the contract.
She doesn’t even glance at Karen.
“Out,” I say to my sister-in-law, glancing at her briefly as I push to my feet. April stalls for a second, glancing at Karen as if she’s just now noticed she’s here.
“Excuse me?” Karen says, astounded. “We’re in the middle of—”
“I said, Out!”
There’s no room for negotiation in my voice, and Karen quickly realizes it. She huffs, but turns and leaves, slamming the door shut behind her with a loud click.
The moment we’re alone, April throws the contract onto my desk like it’s just burned her.
“‘Production of offspring to occur through natural means’?” she snaps. “You added a footnote telling me we’re fucking to do this?”
I meet her fury head-on. “Keep your voice down.”
“No!” she hisses. Her hands tremble at her sides, but her spine is iron. “You could’ve told me that. Out loud, in person, to my face, something! Instead, you hid it in a clause you thought I wouldn’t read!”
I raise a single brow at her. “I assumed you would read it. And if I’m being entirely honest, I assumed you’d come marching in here like this.”
“You’re unbelievable.” She pushes a hand through her hair.
Her bun finally gives up, and her hair tie falls to the ground.
She barely notices. “Do you think I’m okay with this?
I mean, Jesus, Anthony. You’re offering me the world, but I didn’t know I’d have to fuck you to get it.
Do you even understand how that makes me feel? Like some kind of prostitute—”
“You think this started with the contract?” I step around my desk, letting my fingers drag over the surface before shoving them into my pockets.
I close the distance, leaving a few feet between us, and lean forward, bringing myself down to her height.
“You started it, April…with your text…with your words. You told me what you wanted in a vivid description.”
“You can’t just…you can’t just keep saying my name like that. And that was a mistake—”
“Was it?”
Her cheeks turn a deep shade of red. “I was venting, you fucking ass. Fantasizing.”
“Now the fantasy can be real.” My voice drops as my chin tips down, my eyes locking on hers through my lashes. “And you’re terrified that it’s tempting you.”
“Go to hell.”
“I don’t think I will,” I grin. “I think you’re going to give me an heir, April.”
I pull one hand out of my pocket and catch her wrist with it, my thumb dragging over her pulse. Her breath catches; her eyes bore into mine. But she’s making no move to run or hide.
“And I’m going to give you exactly what you’ve been wanting.” Her eyes widen, the fire in them flickering with something else. Something I’ve seen before but didn’t quite know how to name. It’s clear now.
I pull her to me, letting go of her wrist as her chest presses against mine. Bending down just enough to hook my forearm under her ass, lifting her with ease.
“Anthony—”
“You change your mind, princess?” I murmur, pressing the side of my nose against her cheek to speak softly in her ear.
The scent of her hits me like a goddamn semi-truck. Sweet, floral, intoxicating. It’s so much stronger when she’s pressed against me. I inhale deeply, letting it invade my nostrils and branding her into my brain. Fuck. Christ. My fingers tighten around her thigh as I turn toward my desk.
“I…I don’t know,” she whimpers, her hands hesitantly resting on my shoulders for stability.
“Seemed like you were begging for it a few days ago.” I cross the space with ease, stopping beside my desk.
“All those filthy thoughts you texted me about what you wanted from me. You wanted me to bend you over my desk and put you in your place when your horny little brain can’t focus on work.
” I slowly loosen my grip, letting her slide down my body until her feet are on the floor.
With my mouth at her ear, I say, “Is that not what you wanted? Am I meant to believe that was a lie?”
I stand up straight, towering over her by more than a foot. She looks up at me with those wild, doe-like green eyes, but says nothing. So I let myself keep going.
My hand slides up the curve of her back, and her lashes flutter; her lips part just enough to release a small exhale.
My fingers glide up over the back of her neck and into her hair.
Before she can react, they tighten into a fist around the blonde strands.
A strangled little noise slips from her mouth, and it’s the filthiest, sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
“You’ve got such a brave mouth on you,” I rasp, my free hand coming up to cradle her jaw before dragging my thumb over her lower lip. “But you’re so quiet now. No retorts. No witty comebacks. You’re not pushing back at all, April. Have I broken that little head of yours?”
Her breath quickens, but my thumb lingers on her lower lip. I stare at the way it moves as my thumb strokes it. Plump, pink, damp, hot.
I can’t resist any longer and push my thumb past her teeth. She startles before sinking into me, her tongue instinctively moving. My breathing stutters. “Christ,” I mutter, while pushing down on her tongue. “You claim you don’t know what you want, but you’re melting like butter.”
She whines softly in response. “Do you really want me to stop, princess?”
She stares up at me, her tongue twitching under my thumb, and shakes her head. No.
“Good fucking girl.”
I wrench my thumb from her mouth and tighten my hold on her hair.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, princess,” I growl, letting my free hand slowly scale down the front of her body. My hand dips between her breasts over her blouse and down the front of her skirt until I’m grasping the hem. “I’m going to give you what you want.” I inch her skirt up her thighs.
“I’m going to bend you over my desk.” The fabric bunches around her hips, revealing the purple, lacy panties beneath her sheer black stockings.
“I’m going to touch you the way you want me to touch you.
” The backs of my knuckles ghost over her mons.
“Then you can make that pretty little mind up about whether you want me to fuck you properly.”
I turn her so she’s facing the desk. Then, with my hand still in her hair, I slowly push her down until her upper body is resting on the mahogany wood grain.
Her ass is in front of me, and her feet are firmly planted on the floor.
I use my other hand to reach for the button beneath the top of my desk and press it.
The quick-lock on the door turns into place across the room audibly.
“My office is locked,” I tell her. I look from her door to mine. “Is yours?”
“N-no,” she stutters, a little tremor running through her body.
“Shame,” I say. “Better hope no one walks in.”
I take my hand out of her hair and trail it down her back until I’m touching the bare skin of her ass.
Fucking thong. Of course. I spread my fingers wide to feel the curve and weight of it.
Her breathing grows faster and more erratic.
I squeeze her ass just a little, but it’s enough to get a reaction from her.
I watch as one of her feet kicks up, and it’s the cutest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.
“These are in the way,” I say with a sigh, tugging at her stockings. “Were they expensive?”
“I-I got them at Target—”
“Perfect.”
I hook my nail on the seam and follow it down to the small gusset over her lips. She squirms at that first bit of contact even though it’s barely more than a graze. I get a good grip with my finger, and tug. It rips exactly how I want it to, so I grab it with my hand and pull a little more.
A hole forms over her upper thighs and pussy. It feels like I’m being tested with patience I do not want to have, but can’t help but deliver. Rushing wouldn’t be good for either of us, and I want to enjoy this.
“Tell me to stop if you’re not sure,” I say, my hand stopping for just a second.