29. Twenty-nine
Twenty-nine
Ainsley
I can’t wait for my day to end. I have plans with Payton. Big plans. Now that I know what his dick feels like, piercings and all, I’m taking every opportunity to enjoy it. I just have to get through another fifteen minutes of work and he’ll pick me up for a trip to his lake house for the Fourth of July celebration he’s famous for throwing. I have a bag packed and I’m anxious to leave, not getting much done the day before a holiday. I can tell the whole newsroom feels the same, with casual conversations and a lackadaisical approach to work permeating the air.
The front door to the office opens and I look up. Hope rises that it’s Payton arriving early. My stomach sinks when I see who it is instead.
Archer Donovan . Cold sweat prickles along my hairline, my stomach knotting as he casually looks around, examining the humble space I’ve ended up in. When he spots me, I shrink as if that will keep him away. He gives me a cold smile of triumph and starts toward me.
I want to run, throw up, scream for someone to make him leave, but I do nothing. I’m rooted in place, my tongue stuck in my dry mouth as bile rises in my throat. This is a living nightmare. His texts were bad enough, but seeing him in person brings back every horrible feeling and emotion of the year we spent together. It reminds me of my failures and fuckups and how easily he manipulated me, then discredited me when I wanted to get away from him.
“Ainsley, look at you,” he croons when he gets to my desk. “You’ve really taken a turn for the worse, haven’t you”? He stands over me with his hands in his pressed trouser pockets, a cruel smile playing on his lips. His blond hair is longer, but his sky-blue eyes are just as sharp and cunning.
“What are you doing here, Archer?” I ask when I find my voice. It comes out shaky and low, my eyes darting around to my coworkers, who are watching our exchange curiously. I never have visitors who aren't here for a story, so they think he’s either here for interview purposes, or it’s personal. It’s way too personal, and I don’t want him exposing everything that happened between us in front of everyone.
“Can’t I visit an old girlfriend to catch up ?” he answers. He’s here for more than a catch-up session, and this can’t be good.
I stand quickly, feeling unsteady in my heels, and attempt to push past Archer toward the door, expecting him to follow. His hand snakes out and grabs my upper arm, just hard enough to let me know he’s serious but looking to anyone else like he’s helping to steady me when I wobble a little. My skin crawls where he touches me and I want him to let go, but I don’t make a scene, letting him half drag me out of the office into the shade of the building facade. Maybe out here we can have whatever conversation he came all the way from New York to have. I hate that I’m still afraid of him, that he can have power over me like this without repercussions. He’s a menace and I want him out of my life for good. I’m tired of hiding from him, worrying about what he’ll do to me if he’s unhappy, and being scared of him.
“Cut the shit. You don’t have any business in Atlanta and you don't care about me enough to want to catch up. Why are you here?” I ask again, my anger bubbling through my fear.
“Payton Olsen isn’t who you think he is. Whatever lies he’s feeding you to get you to fuck him are just that. He’s a sick sonofabitch who destroys businesses and breaks up families. You saw what they did to my dad’s company and now my father’s in prison because of them. You can’t trust him.”
“That’s rich, coming from you!” I seethe, unable to stop myself. “You and your dad are just as bad. Andreas took advantage of companies in the same way and didn’t have any scruples about saving family businesses. He took what he wanted however he could and used anyone to do it. You’re no better, you fucking nepo baby with a giant fucking chip on your shoulder. You’re so insecure, you have to make yourself feel bigger by hurting others.” The words rush out of me in a torrent fueled by years of hurt. Holy shit, did I just say all that?
Archer’s eyes narrow and I see the moment he snaps. His grip on my arm tightens and he shakes me until my teeth clack. My head spins and my heart races, realizing he’s dangerous and could hurt me, for real. I look around for help, but the parking lot is empty and no one’s around to flag down easily. I could try to go back inside, but he’d be able to stop me before I made it three steps. Oh, fuck, this is so bad, and I’ve made him even angrier. I can only hope there are security cameras somewhere capturing this, or someone will drive by and take pity on me.
“You dumb clingy bitch. You can’t see what’s right in front of your face. He’s using you for media coverage and doesn’t care about you. Why would he want someone as broke, ugly, and stupid as you, when he can have anyone he wants with his money and connections? You’re a means to an end for someone like him. I’d know. I used you for the same thing, remember?”
My heart clenches and my stomach feels like I’ve swallowed hot rocks that are burning me from the inside out. He hits on every insecurity I have, flaying me alive and staking me where I can be picked apart the easiest. He knows just how to fuck with me, every button to push. I have to get away from him. He’s not the kind of person to see reason and come to a compromise with. He escalates and gets worse unless you appease him. I’m not about to stroke his ego and fall back into those old habits of our relationship.
I pull against his grip as I push his chest with my other hand. I have to get away from him. “Fuck you.”
His other hand grips my neck and squeezes, cutting off my words and forcing me to look at him as I fight for breath. My hands latch onto his arm, trying to pull away, but he’s relentless, a cruel gleam in his eyes.
“You would want to fuck me again, you sloppy, degenerate whore. But I don’t do repeats with the same trashy, bad lays,” he says cruelly. “I don't want you, but you sure as hell aren't fucking Payton Olsen. I see you with him again and you’re going to regret it.” He squeezes my neck and shakes me again, forcing a cry out of my clenched teeth when it goes beyond what I can tolerate.
“Let me go,” I beg hoarsely, holding back tears and grasping onto anger so he doesn’t see just how badly he’s hurting me. I wrench my arm hard and pull free of his grasp, using both hands to pry him off my throat. It hurts like hell and I flinch, which thrills him.
“Touch her again and I’ll put you through that wall, motherfucker.”
We both spin around at the growled threat. Payton’s stalking toward us through the parking lot, his eyes deep blue flames, face set into a menacing scowl, anger radiating off him in palpable waves. He’s scarier than I ever imagined he could be, but to me, he’s a beacon of hope and safety, my harbor in this shitstorm, and the one I want to tread water for me when I feel like I’m drowning.
He doesn’t stop, grabbing Archer by the shirt and around his neck, and lifts him off the ground before slamming him into the wall of the building. Archer looks shocked, his face gone bloodless, eyes wide. He’s never been handled like this in his life, not knowing what it’s like to be on the receiving end of treatment that scares the shit out of him.
“Do you know who I am? You’re going to jail for touching me!” he squeaks out, finding his outrage at this treatment, sounding unbelieving that anyone would look at him as anything less than a god worthy of worship.
Payton growls, pulling Archer off the wall, only to slam him back into it, forcing out a breath and rattling his head against the brick with a sickening thud that makes me cringe. Oh fuck. Payton’s not exhibiting the tight control he usually does. I might not be able to stop him now that he has Archer in his grasp after everything Archer's done.
“I know exactly who you are—a blight on this world. Listen closely. I won’t be repeating myself. Harass her and I’ll make your life a living nightmare. Look at her and I’ll carve out your eyes. Put your motherfucking hands on her again and I’ll cut them off and feed them to you digit by digit. Come for my girl and I’ll end your miserable life. Got it?” His voice is deep, serious, vibrating with wrath and menace, unlike anything I’ve heard from him.
I hear a splattering sound and see Archer’s pissed himself. I gasp in shock, Archer whimpering in embarrassment. I take a step toward them and place my hand on Payton’s back, trying to soothe him.
“He’s not worth it. Let’s go.”
Payton doesn’t look at me, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he keeps his eyes locked on Archer’s terrified face. “Bullies get the treatment they dish out. Remember that. You put your hands on my girl, payback is tenfold.” He squeezes Archer’s throat until he gurgles painfully and shakes him. “If I see you again, you’re not walking away.” He glances over at me. “Did he touch you anywhere else?” he asks, sounding murderous.
“No, just my arm and neck. Put him down. Seriously, he’s not worth it. He’s nothing.”
His jaw clenches, his stare returning to Archer, who visibly shrinks under the scary look. “You’re lucky I don’t end you now and do this world the favor it deserves.” He snarls, tossing Archer to the side so he stumbles to his knees.
Archer stands and collects himself as much as he can with wet pants, a disheveled shirt, and his hair a mess from being shoved against a wall and shaken like a ragdoll.
“You’re going to pay for this, Olsen.” He points a shaking finger at us as he walks backward toward his car. “You just signed away everything you’ve ever loved or wanted. You’re going to regret putting your hands on me.” He turns and walks quickly to an unfamiliar black BMW, slams the door, and peels out of the parking lot while we watch .
Once the car’s out of sight, Payton turns to me and gently cups my face in his hands, his expression now one of concern, though his features are harder than usual. “Are you okay? Where did he hurt you?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, his hands softly running down my neck and shoulders to my arms and pushing up my sleeves to where Archer was gripping my arm. He hisses out a breath and scowls. “I should have knocked his teeth out for marking you.”
I look down and see the red mark from Archer’s tight grip on my arm already starting to bruise. “I don’t care about that now that he’s gone. Let me get my bag from inside and we can leave. We’ll put this behind us. I don’t want Archer to ruin another thing for me.”
“He put his fucking hands on you, Ainsley. He hurt you.” His voice breaks and he shakes his head, jaw clenching again. “He came here to intimidate you, right? To say more horrible things and get under your skin because of me. What did he say?”
“It doesn't matter what he said. Archer sucks and he’s gone now. You scared him so bad he pissed himself and that means he’s going to come back swinging the only way he knows how, which is at me. Just let it go. You’ve done enough and I don’t want to think about this.”
“ I’ve done enough ?” he repeats, his voice rising. “I’m trying to protect you and put that punk-ass kid in his place. I want him to know it’s not okay to touch what’s mine, and he has no business harassing you.”
I’m mad, confused, and scared, and this isn’t helping anything. I don’t want to fight with him after dealing with Archer’s bullshit. Payton has no right to claim me like that when all we’re doing is faking it in public and opening ourselves to sex because it’s fun, not because he thinks it’s real. He’s acting out of possessiveness, not because he’s in love with me, and he doesn't like seeing another man’s hands on me because he thinks of me as his property.
“Stop pretending I mean anything to you. I’m playing a role for a stupid favor and you’re getting something extra out of it now that I’ve let you have my body. That’s all I am, a fake plaything to enjoy for a short time to meet an end goal. You couldn’t possibly want me for real because I’m not your type. I’m so beneath you it’s stupid to even pretend that you’d want me, so it’s better if we don’t bring sex into the mix anymore. It’ll just hurt me more in the end,” I say, balling my fists and pressing my nails into my palms to anchor myself when my mind is spinning down dark paths Archer opened up.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Payton says, the words coming out in a low whisper laced with the rage I heard earlier directed at Archer.
I shrink inward and close my eyes, putting up the walls he so recently dismantled. I shouldn’t have let him in. This is it. This is when I see the other side of the happy-go-lucky guy he’s presented this whole time. This is when he shows me his true colors and I’ll know what I’m dealing with. I take a step back, letting his hands fall from my arms. My heart beats erratically in my chest and adrenaline surges through me, prepping me for fight, flight, or freeze. I have to leave before my instinct to freeze kicks in so I won’t be stuck with another abusive asshole. I’ll put myself first this time.
“Don’t put yourself down or say you’re not my type. You’re perfect for me and I want you. I’m not fucking you as a fake plaything. It’s because we have a connection and you’re someone I want to give my body to. I sure as fuck hope you feel the same because we’re good together. I’m drawn to you.” He snarls an exasperated sound and pauses, running a hand through his hair in agitation as he looks up at the sky. “Fuck it. You need to hear everything I feel, no matter how crazy it sounds.” He levels me with that churning sea stare and I freeze. “This isn’t casual and it’s not a game. You’re the fucking moon controlling my tides. You mean…everything to me, Ainsley.” His words are hurried and passionate but not angry. He’s desperate for me to understand him, I realize.
I blink and look away from the unguarded emotion he’s showing me. This isn’t good for the attachment and obsession I’m already feeling. His words draw me in and make me hope for more when I know I shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter what nice things he says now. We have a three-month contract. When it’s over, there’s no reason for him to want to keep me around, connection or not. I have to remind my heart that, as good as it feels to be wanted by him, to have something special, and to hear his words now, there’s no guarantee I get to keep him at the end of this. I sigh in defeat.
“Fine. Let’s go to the lake.”
“Fine? That’s how you end a conversation after an encounter like that and me fucking pouring my heart out to you? You want to suppress your feelings and not deal with the emotions of seeing Archer again, let him get into your head, and pick a fight with me because I want to make sure you’re okay? We’re not doing this your way, Princess. We’re doing it mine.” He bends and tosses me over his shoulder, his arms banding around my thighs as I shout a protest. He ignores it and marches me inside the building. “Which one is your desk?”
My face is hot with embarrassment from being carried over the shoulder of my fake boyfriend in front of my coworkers, who are staring openly, some laughing. I point at my desk. He walks to it, picks up my overnight bag and purse, slings the straps over his other shoulder, and turns around to leave. At the door, he pauses for a moment.
“Happy Independence Day. I’m taking my workaholic girlfriend to the lake a little early and this is the only way I can pry her away from work.” He turns back around after his explanation and exits as I wave sheepishly and see Reid smiling at me.
At his Range Rover, he places me in the passenger seat and hands me the seat belt before stowing my bags.
“You're a caveman,” I accuse once he’s settled and we’re pulling out of the parking lot.
“You bring out my more primal instincts, Princess. Now take off your panties and spread your legs for me.”
There’s no question. It’s a command and I’m compelled to obey without further argument. I huff in annoyance but a thrill goes through me as I shimmy out of my panties and hold them up for him. He takes them from me and runs them under his nose with a groan before they disappear into his pocket. Fuck, he’s sexy with his unabashed desires and willingness to act on every one.
“Put your right foot up on the dash. Good girl,” he praises when I follow his direction. His hand moves under my skirt to the apex of my thighs, fingers sliding through the slickness at my entrance from the anticipation of whatever he’s going to do to me. He drags the wetness to my clit and rubs it in circles, causing my hips to roll into his hand. He pinches my clit and I jump. “Now tell me why you think you’re not good enough for me while I make you come. We’ll see who gets their point across first.”
It’s a game he is unequivocally skilled in and gives him an advantage that has me coming faster than I can try to explain how my brain works and why I think he couldn’t possibly want me. He makes me come four times on the drive to the lake and I forget that I'm supposed to be arguing my point with him. He has me seeing fireworks brighter than those that pop and burst over the lake the next night as we spend the evening around the pool at his beautiful lakehouse with his family and close friends. Through it all, Payton makes sure I know I’m wanted with every action and word, reassuring me at every turn that I’m enough for him. It feels good to be wanted, and it sinks me deeper into my obsession with him which will be even harder to climb out of should he decide to be done with me at the end of our contract.