"I can't believe you called a business consultant behind my back."
"Calm the fuck down. Ellis is an old friend. I was just checking up on him and mentioned the acquisition. You should consider it. He made a world of difference for us before.”
"It's my fucking company, Dad. You don’t run it anymore, so stay the fuck out of it!"
He lets out a frustrated groan. "You sound like a teenager throwing a fit, Nash. God dammit, will you grow the fuck up?" This time I do throw my phone across the room. I didn't even hit end before it lands with a thud against the plush carpet and slides to the wall. It's probably not broken, but right now I don't give a shit.
Ignoring his voice calling for me from the floor, I throw on a pair of basketball shorts and socks and run down to the gym. Pounding out a few miles on the treadmill should help me get his voice out of my head. I'll never stop feeling like a bratty teenager until he stops treating me like one. I said I didn't want a consultant, but he refuses to believe I can handle this on my own.
After mile number two I realize I can blame my dad as much as I want for putting me in a shit mood, but I know it's really the email that started it.
Nash. This is strictly a business email. I hope you know, regardless, my services are still available to Wilde Aviation.
Ellis
So, fucking formal. Regardless. Regardless of what? Regardless of the shit that went down in Amsterdam. So much meaning in one fucking word.
The second I opened that email, I knew Alistair couldn’t keep his fucking nose out of my business. He had to do something.
The jog does nothing to calm my nerves. I need to get back to work. After a quick shower, I get dressed and pick up my phone off the floor. It's covered in notifications, mostly notes and messages from my assistants. Nothing super pressing, which irks me. I need something important to work on.
As I cross the grounds toward the office building, movement in the guest house catches my eye. What the fuck? I've told the housekeeping staff to stay out of there unless I give them instructions to clean it. I've been in the habit of taking girls there when I can bring someone back from the city. Sometimes it involves kinky shit I don't need everyone seeing. I always clean it up myself, but I can't remember if I put everything away after my last time in there.
Fuck, when was my last time in there? Too goddamn long.
Before I head to the office, I make a detour and head toward the guest house. The door is closed, but I toss it open and hear scrambling in the bedroom. What the fuck? Is someone snooping through my shit?
Quietly, I creep across the living area and into the one bedroom. A blur of copper-colored skin and black hair flashes by, and I quickly reach out, grabbing onto the curls, pulling the girl out of the bathroom before she can shut herself in there. People are sneaking into my guest house, using my bathroom, getting naked on my property.
I'm more pissed than I should be, but there is something gratifying about the way she screams.
"Nash!" I catch sight of her face in the mirror and immediately let go of her hair.
Jesus Christ. Hanna Thurber is standing naked in my guest house bathroom looking fucking terrified, and rightfully so.
"Oh fuck, Hanna. I'm sorry." It feels like a full minute goes by while I stand there, stunned and staring at her naked body in the mirror. One hand hovers over the apex of her thighs, hiding herself from me, but my eyes go there anyway. The warm clean scent of her soap fills the steamy bathroom, so she obviously just got out of the shower.
It all comes back in a flash, racing through my head. Zara asked if Hanna could stay in the guest house. She literally told me a couple of days ago she would be here because she was going through a hard time.
What have I done to this poor girl?
Quickly, I grab a towel off the counter and cover her. "I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?"
She avoids my eyes as she hides her body. "I'm fine. You just scared me."