Beneath the desk, I squeeze the cap of my knee to keep my face from portraying my reaction to his name. I know Nash would never tell his dad what happened between us in Amsterdam. Fuck, I don't think Alistair even knows we saw each other, let alone spent nine months together. So, he certainly doesn't know how it ended.
I knew Nash took over the company after his father properly retired. I know Nash has done well with the business—only because I have stocks in the company, and I watch it closely.
"So, are you open to new clients? I assume the job would take six weeks? Maybe less. You're always welcome on Del Rey, you know."
"Does Nash know you're asking me this?"
Alistair grimaces. That's what I thought. Nash would never ask me this. First, because it's me and he hates me. And second because Nash is no doubt the same stubborn prick he was three years ago, and he doesn't ask for or accept help. Fuck, he doesn't even take suggestions.
"You know I can't do anything until he hires me, Alistair."
"I know, but I think if you two had a conversation, he'd consider it. He always looked up to you, Ellis."
It's like needles under my skin, bringing enough pain to the surface to make me choke on it. Nash did look up to me.
"I can tell you'd like a new project. This has your name written all over it. Consider it. Give him a call."
I would love a new project. And I’m enough of a curious fool I will contact Nash about this. Alistair and I spend the next fifteen minutes catching up, talking about his new projects even though he’s supposed to be enjoying his new life with his beautiful, young wife and baby. He asks me what is new, and I have to fight the guilt because there is nothing new for me. I’ve been content with that for a long time, but now it’s giving me a sour feeling in my gut. Finally, we say our goodbyes, and I stare at the view out of my window, jaw clenched.
"Valerie, whiskey neat."
"Yes, sir," she calls, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
When she comes in a moment later, holding the golden liquor in her hand, I stand up and nod my head toward the desk, already unbuckling my trousers. Her eyes light up and she bites her lip. She sits on the desk facing me and runs her hands down my chest with an apologetic look on her face.
Sometimes I wish this thing between us was real and that she cared more than a secretary or casual fuck would care.
"Bad meeting?" she asks, and I stroke my hand down her neck, pulling her toward me to nibble on her ear. There is nothing emotional tying us together, and I know Valerie likes it that way. She has her own life, and unless it's a weekday between nine and five, I don't care much about what that is.
But fuck, is she a great secretary.
"No, it wasn't a bad meeting," I groan, trying not to think about anything Alistair said and especially not about Nash.
"You seem tense," she replies as I pull her off the desk and spin her around so she’s facing it. She lets out a satisfied sigh as I pull her skirt up, letting it bunch around her waist.
“I’m fine,” I reply tightly. Then, I pull a condom out of my top drawer and put it on quickly because like I said, what Valerie does on her own time is her business, but sticking my dick in her is mine. She keeps quiet, letting out only a soft cry while I plunge myself in, fucking her fast and hard. I try in vain to shrug off the anxiety the call with Alistair has caused.
But it’s no use. Nash is back in my head, and I know from experience it’s going to take a while before it’s clear of him.
And I was having such a nice day.
4
"You called him?" I snap, shooting out of bed. It's not even six in the morning, but the email that just popped into my inbox had me calling my dad pretty fucking fast.
"Jesus, Nash. Do you know what time it is?" His voice is like gravel on the other line. He never used to sleep past six. I don't know why the fact he's changed so much in the past few years bugs the shit out of