Fuck that. The idea of some asshole coming in and putting his hands all over my company makes me sick to even think about.
"No, thanks. I'm fine."
"Nash, think about it. I bet Prior is still available if you want me to call him."
The fork I’m holding drops with a clang against the porcelain plate. Bits of orzo salad scatter across the glass table, and I move to clean it before Zara can. Clearing my throat, I shove the plate aside and try to act natural. After taking a sip of my tea, I ask, "Who is it?"
"Ellis Prior. Do you remember him? You were just a kid when he worked with me."
I turn away, focusing on the movement of clouds gently rolling across the sky. "I remember him."
"You do?"
I exhale, keeping my calm. "Yeah. I wasn’t that young."
"Well, he's still in business. He does shit like this all the time. He'll come out and help you through the whole—"
"I said I've got this."
I can feel my father’s eyes on me, and it grates on my nerves. Downing the rest of my tea, I stand up, ready to get back to the office and away from the scrutiny of the two people I’d rather not hate, so it’s easier if I’m not around them.
My dad’s idea is not an option. There's zero fucking chance I'm calling Ellis Prior, not after what went down in Amsterdam, but my dad doesn’t know about that, and he never will.
3
"Good girl," I purr to the pretty little blonde at my feet.
I stroke her chin as she licks up the leftover drops on her bottom lip, staring up at me with a look of adoration on her face.
"I have a meeting to get to now."
"You're welcome," she whispers even though I never actually thanked her. I zip up my pants and lean down to lick at her pink pouty lips, tasting the saltiness there. She jolts toward me trying to deepen the kiss, and I let her for a moment before pulling away.
My meeting is a video call, and I was tempted to keep Valerie between my legs for the duration, but it's an old friend, and it didn't seem quite right to do that to him.
"Let me know if you need anything, Mr. Prior," Valerie chirps, standing and straightening her pencil skirt. She calls me Mr. Prior because she loves to play the part.
"A coffee would be perfect."
She smiles sweetly and scurries out of my office to the kitchen where I hear her preparing my latte the way I like it. The beauty of owning my own business and working from home is I can hire a secretary to do whatever I like, under whatever terms we can both agree to. When she brings my coffee in on a tray, I admire the way her skirt hugs her hips and decide after my call I will pull it up to her waist and fuck her over my desk. But not until after my meeting.
Reclining in my office chair, I wait for the call to come in and stare out at the city view through the large windows. Business has been quiet this week, so I hope he has something new for me to work on. I miss having new projects. Everything lately has been follow-ups and old clients.
Right on time, the call comes in, and I tap the green button to open up my camera. My face stretches into a smile when I see a much older version of Alistair Wilde taking up my computer screen. He's still a good-looking man, but his hair has grayed and the crow’s feet around his eyes have deepened.
"Jesus, you look old," I say with a laugh, and he grins at me before holding up his middle finger on the screen.
"So, do you," he replies.
"It's good to see you. Congrats again on the new arrival. My secretary showed me the announcement a couple weeks ago.”
Alistair stiffens, looking uncomfortable, and I laugh. This isn't our normal conversation. We don't talk about babies and weddings and wives. The last time I saw Alistair Wilde, we were in a much different phase of our lives, a couple of bachelors, impressing women with expensive wine and private islands.
"Thank you," he mutters. "How are you?"
"I'm good. Are we talking shop yet? I thought you were in retirement."
"I am, but Wilde Aviation is about to buy out a small fixed-wing manufacturer, and I'd like Nash to bring you