Filthy Rich (Filthy Rich 1)

His voice was harsh. “Then why are you angry with me?”

“Because I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”

“We’re not married, the last I checked.”

God, he was being an ass. I rolled my eyes. “I’m aware of that, and I thank God for it, believe me.”

Aidan pushed his chair back, laced his hands together over his stomach. Those hands. His strong wrists. My gaze dropped to them, and I pulled it away by force, made myself look at his face again. That was no better, because now I was looking at his cheekbones, the line of his mouth. The stubble on his jaw. Wondering what it would feel like on my skin.

“I don’t see a problem,” Aidan said. His voice was icy cold. I’d heard him use that voice in meetings when he was particularly annoyed. Most of his employees shook with fear when he used that voice.

“Then you’re blind,” I said. Never, in my entire career as an executive assistant, had I ever spoken to a CEO like this. It had never even crossed my mind. Yet with Aidan, the words came out. “If you don’t want me to work for you anymore, just say so. It can be a mutual agreement.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I want you to work for me?” Now he sounded angry. “When the fuck have I ever said anything of the kind?”

“Does this kind of thing work on your other employees?” I asked him. “Acting one way, then pretending the other person is crazy? Well, you can play your game if you like, but you’ll be playing it alone. If you can’t acknowledge a problem, then I’ll do it myself. And I quit.”

I turned away from the door, lightheaded. I hadn’t intended to quit. It wasn’t my plan. But there was no way I could work for a man who couldn’t be in the same room with me. I couldn’t even blame him entirely—it was hard for me to be in the same room with him, too. I wanted him so badly, and I couldn’t have him.

I started across the dark open office space, trying not to wobble as I walked. Behind me, I heard Aidan’s chair move, his laptop snap shut. The lamp went off and his door closed. His legs were longer than mine, his stride faster, and in seconds he had caught up with me. “Samantha. What the fuck?”

Normally, Aidan didn’t swear when he spoke to me. Now he couldn’t seem to stop. “I was clear, I think,” I said. I kept walking.

His hand touched my elbow. It wasn’t rough—it wasn’t even a grab—but my body stopped as surely as if he’d spun me around. That was how much control he had over me without trying. When I looked up at him, his dark eyes were blazing.

“You are not fucking quitting,” he said.

“Yo

u have no say in it,” I told him.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.” I turned again, moving harshly, even though he wasn’t holding me. Because it felt like he was.

As I moved, my bookstore bag fell to the floor, the book I’d bought spilling out. Before I could stop him, Aidan had stooped and picked it up. He looked at the title, at the back, and I felt my cheeks get hot. I’d bought an erotic romance, this one particularly dark. The title was One Night with the Devil, and the cover featured a photograph of a woman’s elegant hands, bound at the wrists with a thick red silk ribbon.

Aidan turned the book over, looking at the back. I knew he was seeing the words taken and possessed and unimaginable pleasure. I knew he was seeing the words in bold: I barely knew him, yet I couldn’t resist his command. The author’s name was Melina Cherry.

I stood there with my hands clenched, refusing to feel ashamed. I was a grown woman, and I could read whatever I wanted. “Give that back,” I said.

He handed it to me. He didn’t scoff or laugh; he didn’t even have a derisive look in his eye. Instead, he looked at me with the same intensity he had before. “Is that how you get off?” he asked. “With books?”

That was tonight’s plan. I was pent up and wanted an orgasm, but that was none of his business. “Would you rather I do it with strange men?” I snapped, shoving the book back in the bag. “Would that be more acceptable to you?”

He looked furious, and for a second my breath stopped. “It isn’t acceptable to me at all.”

I made my voice work. “Well, that’s too bad. Once again, you don’t get a say.”

“I know I don’t.” Aidan stepped forward, closer to me. I didn’t step back. I could smell him, that deep, masculine scent, and this close I could see the stubble on his jaw. I clenched my hands again so I wouldn’t touch it. “Do you know why I’ve been avoiding you?” he asked me, his voice low with anger.

“In fact, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

His jaw flexed. “I’ve been avoiding you because in Chicago, I wanted to fuck you raw. That’s why I left. That’s why I’ve stayed away from you.”

The words hung there, stark and dirty. I couldn’t breathe.

“You wanted it, too,” Aidan said. “You can say you didn’t, but you would be lying. Now who’s pretending that problems don’t exist?”