The Dirty Series 1(10)

“Your work here so far has been very satisfactory.” My heart leaps in my chest. This is the first time Sandra has ever given me such high praise, and I feel an intense burst of loyalty, strong and pure. I nod, forcing myself not to smile. Sandra disapproves of giddiness. She speaks again. “As long as you continue to perform, and as long as he leaves us to our own devices, we should be successful.”

For a moment I think she might say more, but she just dismisses me with a curt nod.

My heart flutters as I make my way back to my chest. There are too many emotions to sort through right now. God, I want him so much, but Sandra has just made it crystal clear: he’s the adversary now.

It’s him or my work, and I know which one has to come first.

I pull up my email and start firing off messages even while I place phone call after phone call to everyone I cancelled on this morning, summoning them back to Sandra’s office—yes, now, as fast as you can—and though I try to ignore the clock in the upper corner of my screen, I can’t help but watch it as the minutes tick by.

When the emails are finished, I risk it: I pull open a private browser window and type in a search. All I know is his last name, but I add keywords until…there he is, giving the camera a steely look for a promotional photo that looks to be a couple of years ago.

Three clicks later, I’m reading his biography on a Fortune list of New York City’s wealthiest residents. And he’s damn near the top.

I close the window and lean back in my seat, considering what I’ve just learned.

It doesn’t make much of a difference.

I wanted him on sight, and it had nothing to do with what he could buy.

Just what he could do with those hands, that body…

There will be no work at the office tomorrow. I’ll finally get at least half a chance to catch my breath.

By Wednesday I’ll be back in my desk, my focus where it needs to be.

Not on the slick wetness between my legs. Not on the heat rising to my cheeks.

Not on the cocky, mysterious Mr. Hunter.





Chapter Seven





Jax



This has got to be the most boring sex I’ve ever had, and that’s saying something.

I should be enjoying this on some level. Christian, who is arguably my best friend in the city—and also happens to frequent the same dining club I go to when I want to give my personal chef a night off—set me up with a blonde who puts Aleah from last night to shame. Jessica is witty and bright and half-decent in bed. Her body is unreal.

But nothing can break the hold Catherine Schaffer has on my mind.

Even as I go through the motions of fucking Jessica, it’s Catherine’s face I see. The deep hazel eyes that locked onto mine and didn’t look away. The full lips that I know would feel like heaven wrapped around my cock. And an absolutely luscious ass. A woman like Catherine—independent and fiery—will love some of the things I’d like to do to that ass.

Even if she’d never admit it.

“Fuck,” I grunt out loud, picking up the pace. Judging by her face, Jessica is having a good time, but she’s got to go.

I need space to think this over. The palate-cleanser was a bad idea.

I play it up a little for Jessica, finishing things up neatly. I do her the courtesy of making sure she’s at least come once. Jessica means about as much to me as Amber from last night, but she’s a friend of Christian’s, and I don’t need him giving me any shit about treating her badly.

Nobody on earth can argue that, anyway. I took her to Eleven Madison Park and we had some pleasant back-and-forth.

The entire time, my heart beat Catherine, Catherine, Catherine like I’m some lovesick teenager. I disgust myself.

I thought maybe if we got physical my brain would reset, realize that Catherine is as dispensable as any other woman, and I could move on.

I’m a goddamn idiot.

My only saving grace is that Jessica doesn’t want to stay over. She’s already pulling her dress back over her head, slipping on her shoes, and picking up her purse. I lean back on my pillows and watch her, wishing I’d brought Catherine here instead, consequences be damned.

Jessica glides back over to the bed and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the date, Jax.”

“I’m glad you were available.” It’s not exactly a lie.

She leans back, cocks her head, and looks me up and down with her big blue eyes. “I hope you find her.”

“What?” I give her my most charming smile, but I don’t reach for her hand. I don’t pull her back in for another kiss.

“You’ve probably been with a lot of women who would never notice,” she says, a smile quirking the corner of her mouth. “But I know when a man is thinking about someone else. I’ll tell Christian you were a gentleman anyway.”