Sex Addict (4 page)

What the shit?

The old man rambled on. “You’ll find there aren’t any distractions here for you, anyway. No wife of mine to screw—though if you want the ex who took half my fortune and ran off to the Hamptons, you’re welcome to her. And Amy, our receptionist, well… She’s a female-lovin’ sort, so cross that one off your list. Even your good looks and boyish charm couldn’t persuade her to take a trip to the petting zoo.”

This has got to be a fucking joke.

“This one…” Bill motioned to Reagan with his thumb. “She’s not going to screw her career for a quick go-around with you, so forget that.” He looked over at Reagan, and Evan followed suit. “Am I right?”

Her expression remained impassive as she replied, “Of course.”

Of course,
she’d already screwed him and his possibility of getting hired, so what did she care?

“Right,” Bill said, slapping his hands on his thighs. “If that’s all sorted and agreeable, Reagan here will discuss salary. What do you say to all that?”

Jesus. Way to wine and dine. Can I have a second to digest?

Evan sat there, not quite sure of the whirlwind he’d just got caught up in. Bill was all over the place. So...that was it? He’d barely said two words and he was being offered the job? He took a long pull of his scotch before answering. If they were handing out jobs on a silver platter, he supposed he could go along with that.

“I guess I’d say you’ve got a deal.”

“Atta boy. I knew I could count on you.” Bill took Reagan’s offered arm as he pushed up out of his chair and pressed a hand to his thigh, rubbing it. Then he noticed Evan watching his movements. “Oh, just gets a bit stiff after a while.”

His eyes shifted to the woman lending a hand and thought,
Yeah, so’s my dick. Will she help me out with that too?

Bill walked over to where Evan was seated and stuck his hand out. Evan took it and stood, shaking it in a nonverbal agreement. The man’s sharp eyes pinned him with a don’t-fuck-up look, and he gave a slight nod.

“Don’t let me down.”

Evan spotted Reagan approaching before standing just behind Bill’s shoulder.

“If we’re done here, I need you to come with me,” she told him.

Though the words were delivered with nothing but cool professionalism, his cock didn’t get the memo, because it rose to attention as he pictured her saying those words—but with him balls-deep in her sweet pussy. He was grateful at that moment that Bill couldn’t read his mind.

“Yes. Go with Reagan. She’ll take good care of you, get you all sorted.”

He figured now was not the time to let him know that she’d already taken good care of him. Several times.

As she made her way around them and to the door, Evan turned in her direction, wondering if it was safe for him to be alone with her with the thoughts running through his mind. When she stopped in the doorway and glanced back at him, he kicked his ass in gear to follow. Real fucking fast.

Her office had a corner view of downtown, and unlike the cozy, dark wood covering the expanse of most of the rooms, hers was sleek and modern. The decor was understated and no-nonsense—crisp, white rugs were spread out along the floors and black fixtures adorned the walls.

Her desk was a combination of both hues, and beyond that, in the far corner, something caught his eye. The one flash of color in the room was a red velvet chaise lounge. It would’ve seemed out of place here in such a professional setting, but it was almost as if her underlying sex kitten had crept its way into her work space.

After he walked inside, Reagan shut the door behind him. As she turned around, he stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“This sure is a creative way to see me again, Reagan. You could’ve just called.”

Her eyes gleamed. “And what makes you so sure I wanted to see you again?”

Evan gave a cocky smirk and leaned in a little. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I? In your office of all places.” He glanced over to the corner where the chaise was and felt a full smile spread across his mouth before he looked back at her. “Nice setup you have here. Your couch looks comfy.”

Her eyes fluttered down to his mouth, and she moved in closer, tilting her head to the side so he could feel her breath on his lips. Then her gaze traveled back up to his, and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip.
 

“Oh, it is. Very.” She pulled back then and walked around him towards her desk. “Why don’t you have a seat,
Mr. James
,” she said, and when he made a move towards the chaise, she tsked. “One of the chairs will do just fine for what I have in mind.”

She gestured to the guest chairs in front of her desk, and as he moved to take one, he noted the way her eyes tracked him across the room. She was so calm, so put together—it was unnerving. Her mocha-colored eyes flashed, almost daring him to say something he shouldn’t. But he kept his mouth shut, instead unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sat down and then crossed one leg over the other.
 

Her eyes flicked to the movement, and just as quickly, she looked away, grabbing at a clipboard before walking around to hand it to him.

“The top amount is your salary offer, and below that, you’ll see the list of benefits. If you accept the terms, sign and date the bottom and we can get started on the rest of the paperwork.”

Glancing at the amount listed, he was taken aback to see a number smaller than he’d grown accustomed to. His eyebrows shot up.

“I know it may seem like we’re lowballing you,” she said as if reading his thoughts.

“You
are
lowballing me.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you bring
your
balls into the mix.”

He jerked his head up at that comment. “Excuse me?”

She leaned back against her desk and crossed her arms. “Your biggest accomplishment of late has nothing to do with your skills in finance and everything to do with your extracurricular activities affecting the companies you work for. Don’t act so shocked. You know it, I know it, and so does Bill. The number you see is just the starting salary during your probationary period, which I’ll be overseeing. After that, we’ll renegotiate your terms. It’s a great offer, so don’t be too proud to take it.”

He tapped his pen against the clipboard and tried to bite his tongue. She was provoking him. Not only with her words, but also with the warmth that had begun to fill her cheeks, causing her skin to flush and his cock and frustration to rise.

“So if I sign here, that would make you my boss for now, correct?” He stopped tapping the pen and pinned her with a heated look. “That won’t be a conflict of interest for you?”

His mind flashed back to that night and the way he’d let her take the reins, something he never did. The control over another was something he craved too much. But with her, he hadn’t even given it a second thought as she’d crawled on top of him, rolling her hips with him deep inside her, her nails digging into his chest. Maybe he’d liked her being in charge...

“It’s just during the trial period—”

“And after that?” he interrupted, curious if she had any thoughts running through her mind regarding their night together.

“After that, it still won’t be an issue. I didn’t know you that night, and I don’t do repeats, so, no, there is no issue.”

Right. Of course. He shook the naked picture of her out of his mind and tried to feel relieved at that admission. He never did repeats either—he didn’t have to in a city as large as Manhattan, with an overabundance of willing participants. That thought had his cock perking back up again. Maybe the sting he felt at her shutdown was simply his pride.

“Okay, then. As long as we both agree.” Then he signed and dated the form and handed it back to her. “When do we start, boss?”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE MOMENT HE stepped inside, he knew it was a mistake.

The stark, grey walls seemed to close in on him as he followed the officer down the narrow hallway, and he broke out into a sweat despite the bitter temperature. When a wave of revulsion ran through him, he reached out to steady himself, taking a shaky breath. The air was stale, the paint under his fingers peeling, and he briefly thought about turning around and getting the hell out of there. The glaring eyes of the guard who turned around when he stopped, however, changed his mind.
 

“There a problem?” his voice boomed, echoing off the naked tile.
 

Evan ran his hand over his face and shook his head, pushing off the wall.
 

The intimidating figure ahead watched him for another beat before heading back down the hall, Evan steeling himself as he trailed behind. He took another deep breath and shook off the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Home sweet home.
Well, his father’s anyway.
 

The Federal Correctional Institute in Otisville was more familiar to him than the house he’d grown up in. He’d been going there since he was a boy.

As the officer handed him the clipboard to sign in, Evan felt the slight moment of pride he’d had at securing the job earlier change to one of disillusion.
 

Who was he kidding? No matter how much money he made or what kind of car he drove, he would still be his father’s son.

“You can wait through there.” The guard gestured to the large, rectangular room with several chairs and tables set up. “They’ll be out shortly.”

Evan walked over to the far back corner, hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible, and took a seat facing the secured door his father would come through. Fuck, he hated this place. Whatever had possessed him to make the hour-and-a-half drive had left as soon as he’d entered the steel front doors.
 

He watched as more visitors streamed through the entrance he’d come from, the looks on their faces as grim as his own. Now that he was here, he wanted this shit over and done with. Glancing at his watch, he impatiently tapped his foot on the ground, hating that he was fucking anxious.  

It wasn’t until he heard the loud, “There’s my boy!” that he realized his father was being escorted over to him. It always amazed him that, even dressed in an orange jumpsuit, the man managed to look like a million dollars.
A million of someone else’s money.

He hadn’t changed much in the months since he’d last seen him. Same head full of silver hair, same confident swagger, as though he were working a boardroom of executives instead of the visiting room at an Otisville prison. It looked like he’d lost a bit of weight off his tall frame, but it didn’t diminish his presence; if anything, it made him look more like the cunning figure he was.

Evan stood as he came closer, and when his father opened his arms as if he expected him to step forward for a hug, he remained exactly where he was. His old man, though, had always been one to put on a good front, so instead of letting Evan’s stance deter him, he continued on and brought him in close before whispering in his ear, “You came all this way. At least act like you’re fucking happy to see me.”
 

Despite uncaring of what others thought, Evan let him put on his show, knowing that it was the quickest way to be released. When he was finally let go, he watched his father as he looked around at the other occupants in the room. Just as Evan had suspected, he was more concerned with their reactions than his.
 

He sat down and waited for his father to do the same, and when they were finally eye to eye, the charming bastard had the nerve to smile at him.

“About time you came back around. What’s it been? Eight months?”

“Nine.”

“That’s right.” His father’s shrewd eyes ran over him. “You look like shit, son. About the same as the last time I saw you.”

Evan’s chair scraped the tile as he stood up, intending to leave.

“Oh come on. No need to be so sensitive. Sit down.”

With his hand hesitating on the back of the chair, Evan eyed him.
 

“Give your old man a break. Humor me for the next few minutes.”

“I’m not here to play your games.”

“Then why are you here? What brings you to my illustrious dwelling?”

After sitting back in his chair, Evan crossed his arms over his chest.

“Okay, how about I start since you seem...angry about something.”

“About something? Gee…” He paused and looked at their surroundings before pinning him with an irritated look. “I wonder what that could be.”

His father leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankle over his leg. “As you can see, the conditions are still luxurious. I was promoted to electrical duty instead of the kitchen, which accounts for my fine physique,” he said, patting his firm stomach. “Apparently, I’m good with my hands but perhaps not as good as you.” He winked, and Evan’s stomach rolled.
 

“Cut the shit, would you?”

“Well, speak, Ev, and I’ll stop.”

Evan reluctantly shifted forward in his seat and uncrossed his arms, placing them on the table in front of him. “I actually came up here to tell you I got a job today.”

His father seemed to perk up at that news. “It’s about damn time. So which is it? L&P?”

“No.”

“Reiner-Wallace?”

Evan shook his head. “No.”

His father’s brow furrowed. “But still in finance, right?
Baumgard?”

“I decided to go with Kelman Corporations.”

A few beats went by as his father stared at him before the stunned look on his face turned perplexed and he started to laugh.

“Holy shit. For a second there, I thought you were serious,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I
am
serious.”

“No,” he said, gaping at Evan. “No, you can’t be serious.
Kelman
Corporations? As in Bill Kelman? Why?”
 

Feeling defensive, Evan straightened in his chair and glared at his father. “Because that’s who I chose.”

“Oh come on. No one would
choose
to work for Bill ‘Gimp Leg’ Kelman.”

“Well, I did.”

“Hmm.”
 

Evan felt his skin prickle at the once-over he was given. One thing about the man was that he had an uncanny way of reading a person. It’s what had made him one of the most successful financial managers in the world—and the most notorious.