Payton
eight
Ainsley dominates my thoughts as I swim laps in the pool on the roof of my loft.
It doesn’t matter how fast I go or how long between breaths that push my lungs to burning.
I can't escape her. Images of her and how I’ll use this connection to my advantage chase each stroke that pulls me through the crystal clear water.
My eidetic memory is a blessing and a curse—the vivid recall it provides meaning I have memorized every part of her.
Every nuanced motion, carefully guarded look, and grimace she’s given me is seared into my brain.
I know the way her nostrils flare when she’s angry, the way her arched brows pull together when she thinks I’m full of shit, the way the corners of her full lips twitch when I almost get her to smile.
It’s the lips that chase me most of all as I think of what they would look like wrapped around my cock, reminding me that I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, especially now that she’s my fake girlfriend for the foreseeable future. I shouldn’t complicate my life like that.
Ainsley may say she wants nothing to do with me, but I know she’s more than a little curious and very interested in a connection despite her prickly exterior.
She willingly went along with my charade to fool Harlowe.
She played her part admirably, creating a backstory that was more truth than I could’ve imagined if she was also at the real estate summit like she said.
She even melted against me each time I pulled her close and seemed to enjoy at least part of our interaction even if she said otherwise.
No matter how strongly she resists my charms, she’s eager to know about me.
Perhaps wanting a story on Olympus or on my family motivates it.
She could even be drawn to me in the same curious way I am to her.
I have no problem dangling the carrot of information and an inside story in front of her.
I’ll have plenty of opportunity to discover what she wants out of this connection now that we’re tied together for the foreseeable future, at least publicly.
The idea occurred to me on a whim as Harlowe backed me into a corner at the café.
Having a favor in my pocket and realizing Ainsley would fulfill it regardless of the extremes meant I could ask for it.
I don’t mind putting myself into a fake relationship if it gets me what I want—my freedom and a reprieve from Harlowe’s scheming.
It’s the kind of thing I’ve asked of my brothers when our company was under scrutiny and their relationship statuses could be used.
Now it’s my turn to take one for the team and use it to my advantage.
I just have to work out the details of what this fake relationship will look like and how we’ll sell it to ensure Harlowe and the world believe it enough to give me an excuse to be a brokenhearted bachelor again in three months so she’ll leave me alone for a nice long time after that.
If that means Ainsley and I have to appear to be wildly in love publicly, then that’s what it’ll take.
I’m willing to do anything for Olympus and my freedom, even deceive my family when it’s for their benefit.
I pull myself out of the pool and drop onto a lounge chair.
My chest heaves from the exertion I’ve put in before seven a.m., but I don't feel settled. All I have to look forward to today is my continued work of trying to solve a six-month-old cyber breach with cold leads, no closer to putting away Archer Donovan, the assumed culprit of the attack. I can’t find any connecting evidence that would mark him as the hacker to turn over to the authorities.
A business associate, Octavius Rex, gave us secondhand information that led us to Archer as the potential hacker for hire with a strong motive against Olympus.
We destroyed his father’s company, Donner Investments, then sent his father to prison for orchestrating an industrial accident at one of our overseas properties in retaliation.
But Archer covered his tracks with his infiltration and never publicly claimed the breach, meaning I can’t do shit about it now.
Archer moved through my firewalls and systems with a sophisticated program I’ve tried reverse engineering to discover how he did it to see if it will lead me back to him.
It’s been gnawing at me for months that the system I built for Olympus failed at the hands of a twenty-five-year-old punk-ass kid who sold off proprietary information.
This let our competitors take our cleaner-burning Pegasus jet engine plans to market before we could.
I want to tie Archer to his crimes and turn him over to the authorities—after I’ve made him pay for his misdeeds in my own way.
I want him to feel the same sting of failure and embarrassment I’ve endured for this colossal fuckup on my part.
A petty hacker like him never should have infiltrated my system.
I’ve reinforced the system and made it airtight since, but that doesn't change the past or that I failed in the first place, which is unacceptable.
Shit, Ainsley’s right. I don't have a life. I should have gone to the coast this weekend like I wanted. Then at least I’d be working from my yacht with a briny breeze blowing through my hair instead of sweating in Atlanta.
But if I’d gone to the coast, I wouldn’t have met the Spitfire who has me in my head today and is now somehow my fake girlfriend.
She’s back in my head with that simple thought.
What is it about Ainsley that keeps my mind circling back to her?
She’s undoubtedly attractive, my physical ideal, with her blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, rosy pink lips, and pretty hazel eyes that narrow in suspicion each time she stares me down, but plenty of gorgeous women have caught my attention over the years.
Is it that she says all the mean, unfiltered thoughts that pass through her head, or that she doesn’t feel the need to impress me because of my status and power?
That has to be it. Ainsley knows exactly who I am and doesn’t seem to give a shit.
She busts my balls and tells me it means nothing every time she opens her mouth, and I can't get enough.
She’s also using it to keep me at arm’s length, and I want to know why.
Any other woman who’s been aware of my family and what our business is has been beyond friendly and willing to fall directly into bed at the first smile from me should I have been remotely interested.
It’s refreshing to have someone, especially a woman, know my net worth and not trip over herself wanting to get something out of the connection.
Of course The Atlanta Haute List ran a story about me being spotted at The Unicorn Café before the day was even over, linking me to Ainsley as an unknown blonde and setting me up as the newest most eligible billionaire bachelor for Atlanta women to salivate over.
The story will be a perfect way for me to introduce Ainsley as my new girlfriend to the public and squash that whole narrative.
I’ll have to feed a few select details of my own to the gossip site to encourage the connection.
I’ve done this for Olympus over the years, keeping the company name in the news with small tidbits of positive information here and there, so it should work for me, personally, as well.
A little PR magic never hurts, and using the Haute List to my advantage would finally be putting the salacious gossip site to good use after all the trouble it’s caused my family and business over the last two years.
I slick wet hair off my face as I grab a towel and dry off as I make my way into my bathroom.
My phone chimes a few minutes later while I turn on the shower.
I pluck it off the counter, thinking it could be one of my brothers, or even Harlowe checking in after reading the Haute List story and giving me a hard time about it, but I’m shocked to see it’s not from them at all.
Muffin: Why the hell did you end our conversation like that last night?
I bark out a laugh at the unexpected question, bringing my phone into the shower with me as I type back a response. Thank God for waterproof technology and large shower enclosures where I can keep my phone out of the spray. I don't want to miss the opportunity to spar with her.
Me: Why? Did you stay up all night thinking of me?
Good to know I’m not the only one with a brain stuck on repeat over the person I met yesterday.
I put the phone on the ledge next to my shampoo and step into the shower spray, rinsing off until I hear my phone ring, surprised it’s the FaceTime sound instead of a text notification.
She’s the initiator this morning. I smile and it feels wicked.
I must’ve gotten under her skin good last night.
I leave the phone on the ledge and accept the call.
The camera only shows me from the abs up if I don’t step back.
It could get indecent if I went far enough, but I can keep the mystery intact unless she requests otherwise.
Then all bets are off and she can have whatever she wants. I’m not shy in the least.
“Miss me, Muffin?” I ask, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the shower.
“What the hell, Payton?! Why would you answer a video call while in the shower?” she screeches, her pretty eyes popping wide but not averting from my body, dominating her side of the screen.
“You called me. It’s only polite to accept.
” I lift my arms and slick back my hair, giving her a show of my tan, wet, muscled arms and flexing abs with water sluicing down my chest toward other, hidden parts.
“Like what you see of your new boyfriend?” I ask as she stays quiet and I catch her lips parting.