Chapter 4

Jason

I sat alone in my office staring at the files Monica dropped. She's quite an assistant if you ask me, good looking, smart, great at her job and fair in bed.

That's what I say about everyone I've ever gotten involved with but this one— I paused, and looked at my phone.

It's been three hours since I requested for the call to be made. My curiosity knew no bounds when I woke up and she was gone.

Knowing I could get whatever information I wanted from anywhere in the world, I got her details.

I looked away from the phone and raked my hands through my hair.

My hair was still in shape; trimmed as always. I have a thing for appearing better than I feel.

The worse I feel, the better I look.

This is unlike me… to have scattered documents laying on my desk. My office felt different from usual. It's been this way since I got the call about my father.

Although I'm the first son, I have never really understood my emotions and how to manage them. Grief for me is running away and that's exactly what I did.

The only thing now is that I ran and felt something stronger than just lust. It was an intense desire to possess even though I said the opposite while sliding into her.

I looked around my office, looking at the mess. To everyone else, it may look all good and okay, but being diagnosed with OCD meant normal wouldn’t cut it for me.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, my brother walked in, his suit tailored to perfection.

Mike had a scowl on his face and I could tell he was here for something serious.

“What's up with you?” he asked the moment he reached my table. I groaned, not ready to have whatever conversation brought him here. “And did a tsunami occur here?”

“Yeah.. No. I’m fine and I'm just getting these documents signed.”

He placed both hands on the mahogany desk. “It's good to know that you're done running.”

“What?

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “You’re doing the same thing every other avoidant does… run. But you can't keep running. You know damn well that father left a will and none of us can get it until you do what is said in the will.”

“To get married?? That's ridiculous.”

“No. Losing what is rightfully ours because of your damn reluctance is ridiculous.”

I let out a deep breath. “I’m not getting married.”

“You have to. It's the only thing we need from you, damn it.”

“Then do it. Do it for the rest of us!” I barked. “I need to think, Mike, and this is not the right time for this.”

“Well, we don't have time.”

“…and I don’t give a fuck.”

It was the blatant truth. I was never his favorite while he was alive so why on earth do they need me now that he's dead?

“What I need right now is to take a break. I’ll figure all of this out at the right time.”

“Well, it’s just a reminder,” Mike said. “A gentle one.”

Just before I could respond to that, a knock came on the door and the door pushed open.

Monica.

“Hi.”

Mike frowned. “Get straight to the point, Monica.”

“Well, she's here… Clara Mallon, the representative.”

I could smell the jealousy that was laced in her voice. It's always like that with the women I fuck. They never want to let go of me even though I always make it clear that I'm not in for anything serious.

“Send her in,” I said calmly.

As she closed the door behind her, I turned back to look at Mike who looked like he had a bunch of questions to ask.

“What?”

“What damn representative is Monica talking about???” He sighed. “We have a million things to handle and somehow you think another investment is what we need?”

“I need,” I corrected. “It's what I need.”

Clara is what I need.

A soft knock followed a moment later and I looked up to catch long toned legs walking in.

Her heels clicked. One. Two. Three until she was inside.

Clara fucking Mallon. My Stranger.

She stood framed in the doorway looking all stunning

“Who the hell is she?” Mike asked in a whisper not loud enough to ruin the moment.

Mike looked at Clara and looked back at me, curiosity crippling. “Who is—”

“I’ve got a meeting with her,” I said.

I really do not want to say much so I ended the conversation with that and looked closely with a knowing half smile.

“I’ll take my leave now,” he said even though his brows were up, looking at me like I’m about to do something wrong.

He walked past her and I stood up, right behind my desk.

This moment should be aired on live TV.

“Hello, Mr—”

She froze.

It was obvious she was too stunned to talk. Her jaw dropped and that little opening in her mouth filled my head with wild thoughts.

What happened in Houston would certainly happen here, again.

“This can't be.” Clara breathed so hard that her voice was a mix of shock and disbelief.

“Clara Mallon,” I said with a rather accommodating smile. “Please have a seat,” I said. “Or are you unable to move?”

She cleared her throat and took one step forward. She swallowed hard and shook her head slightly, like she was trying to put the dots together.

“What is happening here?” Clara asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You know damn well what I'm asking,” Clara flared.

“You seem to have a little bit of anger issue, Clara. Or is it My dirty stranger?” My tone was deceptively light.

The question hung in the air, my gaze met hers waiting for her to respond to what I asked her, but rather Clara took back her breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clara answered aggressively. “You know what?” she continued. “I need to leave right away.”

“You shouldn't," I added. “Ryan won’t be so proud of you if you do so.”

The lump in her throat grew even bigger. “Who the hell are you?”