31. Thirty-one
Thirty-one
Payton
M y phone vibrates on the boardroom table, drawing my attention from the meeting with the city planners for the arena project. Heads all around the table look my way and I smile disarmingly as I make a carry-on motion. Fuck. This is not a meeting I want to be interrupted by an errant notification about a new Atlanta Haute List story or something else I’m keeping tabs on. Hayes sends me a venomous look, letting me know the faux pas has not gone unnoticed, no matter how quickly I silenced my phone and slid it off the table. I look down to put the offending device on silent, only to see Ainsley calling.
My heart lurches. She never calls me during the day. She’s made a habit of rarely reaching out at all. I hate having to send her to voicemail, but this meeting is incredibly important, and I have another hour until I can call her back. I return my attention to the meeting, tapping a finger against my tablet in agitation. This could be an email, but we have to smooth over every little wrinkle with the city to stay on their good side so we can force through our building plans faster than they’d typically approve construction plans. Everything hinges on keeping them happy.
My phone buzzes in my lap and I look down, seeing a text from Ainsley.
Princess: I’m sorry to call. I know you’re working. I just got off the phone with my apartment manager. A water main broke and our whole floor is flooded. I don’t know what to do. You’re the first person I thought to call.
Fuck. She’s coming to me for help. She’s vulnerable and telling me she wants me when she needs help the most. And here I am, a fucking asshole, not picking up her call. I run a hand through my hair and look around at the city officials and my brothers in the boardroom. They’re more than capable of handling this meeting without me, no matter the importance of the deal.
Ainsley needs me. She knows I can take care of her when she needs me the most, and I’m not about to disappoint her when she finally gives in and realizes it. I stand and collect my things.
“Going somewhere, Pay?” Zander asks with dangerous calm from across the table.
“Sorry to run out. I have an emergency. I hope you understand.” I direct my brightest smile at the city planners. “You’re in good hands with our team. I apologize for leaving like this. ”
“Payton.” Hayes's voice carries a note of warning, like he’s about to grab me by the collar and yank me back into a seat. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait.”
I turn a lethal gaze on Hayes, letting him know there’s no arguing with me right now. I’m leaving, even if I have to bulldoze my way through both of my brothers.
“My girlfriend needs me.” I look at the faces around the table with calm resoluteness. “Here at Olympus, we put our family and loved ones before business. I hope you understand,” I direct the last bit to our guests, who nod in confusion, looking between me and my brothers.
Hayes and Zander are brooding and unhappy but not about to stop me now that I’ve pulled out the family card. Both of them have established that their families come before work, and if I’m using that rationale with them, they know this is serious. I get a nod of acknowledgment from Hayes and a hand wave from Zander, who turns back to the table and moves on to the next topic of discussion as if my interruption hadn’t occurred.
I pull my phone out as soon as I leave the boardroom, texting Ainsley on my way to the elevator.
Me: Where are you? I’ll be there as soon as I can.
She texts back almost immediately as if she’s been holding her phone, waiting for my reply. It breaks my heart that she had to wait even this long.
Princess: I’m headed to the apartment to see if I can salvage any of my things. Della says it’s bad. There’s a foot of standing water and it’s coming in from the ceiling. Most of our stuff is ruined.
Me: I’ll meet you there. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll replace whatever you need and we’ll pick up any necessities before we go home tonight. I’ll take care of you, baby.
Princess: I hate this so much ?? I don’t want your help.
Me: I know, Princess. Good thing you’re mine to take care of.
When I pull up to Ainsley’s apartment, restoration vans are parked outside, and crews of workers move in and out of the apartments, creating piles of soaked drywall and collecting rolls of sodden carpet on the sidewalk. I scan the area, looking for Ainsley before I head up to her floor and find her wearing a pair of pink rain boots, standing in a foot of water that’s collected in the hallway outside of her apartment. She looks lost, holding a duffle bag at her side as she stares inside.
“Ainsley,” I call as I close in.
My feet slosh through the water, ruining my Prada leather Oxfords in the process. It’s worth it when she turns and hope lights up her despondent face. I open my arms and she buries her face into my chest as I wrap her in a tight hug that I hope can hold her together when everything feels like it’s falling apart.
“Thank you for coming,” she says, finally pulling away from my chest but not letting me go. It seems she needs a lifeline in this flood, and I’m good at treading water for us both. “I’m sorry to pull you away from work in the middle of the day.”
“Shh,” I say, kissing her forehead and stopping her apologies. “You needed me, so I’m here. What can I do? Anything inside that I need to grab?”
She shakes her head and tears well in her eyes. “I got what I could. My personal documents and my laptop from my desk that stayed out of the water, some clothes that didn’t get wet, and my toiletries. Everything else is destroyed. It’s bad.” Her voice breaks. “Who knew an apartment could flood that quickly? It’s insane the damage water can do.”
Just then, Della, Ainsley’s roommate, sloshes out of the apartment wearing yellow rain boots, looking just as sullen as Ainsley.
“We can probably come back for our dishes and things that can be cleaned. Our furniture is toast. Hey, Payton,” she says, seeing me holding Ainsley in the hallway. She can’t muster a smile, stress evident on her face as well.
Luca will likely be taking care of Della after work. I learned he spent the weekend with her after they met at the bar when Ainsley and I went to the coast. Now he’s mentioning her frequently and seeming a bit attached himself, unusual for the cold almost-sociopath. He’s not even divulging the details of their sex life the way he normally would, which leads me to think he’s gone over her.
I can relate.
Fucking Ainsley is a religious experience. She’s a drug I became addicted to with one hit. There’s no other way to explain it. Coming inside her changed my brain chemistry. I was a different man after that first time, and now everything I am is rewritten to her code. I wanted to keep her in my bed, learning her body and giving her all the pleasure possible, but the point of heading to the coast together was to show her the work my foundation, the Trident Trust, does for sea turtles. We almost didn’t make it out of bed that night to track the nesting sites. It took all I had not to pull her into the dunes and have my way with her again in the dark.
Once I had her back in bed, I kept her there, coming on my face, my hands, and my cock until she was begging me to stop. But we both knew the only words she could use to make me stop would be to call out red, and she never did, so she finally passed out from pleasure. I got to clean her up, put her in one of my old MIT shirts, feed her, and read aloud from the smutty romance book she brought while she lay in my lap and I played with her hair until she was sufficiently recovered to be fucked again. We repeated the whole thing until we had to fly back to Atlanta.
She was even a total trooper at my Fourth of July party, handling my family admirably. She slipped into host mode alongside me, complementing everything I normally do so beautifully. The best part is watching the change in her from a reluctant partner in my schemes, not wanting to be touched and rebuffing every attempt to get to know her, to thriving under my attention and care. She’s warming to having someone she can depend on.
Ainsley shifts in my arms and I’m jostled out of the rosy memory of when everything changed for us and brought back to the dreary reality in front of me.
“I guess there’s nothing else we can do. The building manager said it could take a few weeks for everything to dry out and the work to be completed. We have rooms at the extended stay hotel they’ve arranged for displaced tenants. It’s not fancy, but I don’t need much. I’ll head over there now and see what I need to replace immediately.”
“Like fuck you are,” I growl, an unfamiliar feeling rising in me. It’s protectiveness morphing into possessiveness. “That’s not safe enough for you. You can both stay with me. I have plenty of room at my loft.”
“That’s nice and all, big man, but I’d rather not be a part of your sex-fest, as hot as it sounds, so I’ll respectfully pass and let you two play kinky house,” Della says, a mischievous smile curving her lips.
“Della!” Ainsley hisses, her cheeks growing pink as she steps out of my arms in embarrassment. “I’ll never tell you anything ever again.”
“What? I liked hearing you were having your back blown out by your billionaire boyfriend on the regular and he was kinky as fuck. Sir, carry on with that shit. She needs to have a safe space to not be so uptight and rigidly in control of herself. It’s good for her.”
I laugh darkly and shake my head slowly. I hadn’t expected Ainsley to divulge that much, but I also hadn’t expected her to stay completely silent about what we’re getting up to.
“Sounds like my little brat’s been running her mouth and needs to learn what’s acceptable to talk about and what isn’t when it comes to our playtime. What do you think, Della? Should I cuff her to the bed and strap a vibrator to her clit, only to turn it off just before she comes and edge her for hours? Or should I put nipple clamps on her and attach them to a chain so I can lead her around on her hands and knees like my good little pet until she learns her lesson?”
Della and Ainsley stare at me with wide, surprised eyes. Della clears her throat and seems to recover quicker. “Edge her until she’s begging. Make her squirm.” She turns to Ainsley and pats her on the shoulder. “You lucky fucking bitch. I’m so glad I love you and you introduced me to my own kinky king, so I’m not at all jealous. Speaking of, I have my own safe place. Luca’s letting me stay with him, but thank you.” She directs the last bit at me, confirming my suspicion. He normally wouldn’t even think to offer his home to anyone in need, so he must be completely into her.
“I’m glad you do. Now let’s get you ladies something to eat. What would make today better?”
Ainsley and Della look at each other, sharing a conspiratorial smile before saying in unison, “Mama P’s.”
They introduced me to their favorite hole-in-the-wall, family-owned restaurant in the neighborhood near our planned sports arena and entertainment district that they claim has the best Southern comfort food. It turns out, a flooded apartment and losing nearly all your worldly belongings is made somewhat better by Southern soul food. Atlanta staples like chicken and waffles, mac and cheese, shrimp and grits, and biscuits with honey, along with lots of sweet tea for Della and icy Coke for Ainsley seemed to do the trick. I can’t complain after trying it for myself.