Chapter 7.

Christopher's POV

The email glared from my laptop screen, cold words like a gut punch.

"Subject: Termination of Employment

Dear Mr. Christopher Vance,

This confirms your immediate termination as Product Testing Manager at Vance Enterprises.

Cause: Gross misconduct, including engaging in sexual activities on company premises and falsifying reports to conceal such behavior. Your access has been revoked. Final paycheck will reflect deductions for violations.

Regards,

HR Department"

I stared, fists clenched on the desk. The mansion office. Our mansion. It felt like a trap closing in. Darcelle's doing, no doubt. That icy bitch finally swung the axe.

"You fucking traitor!" I roared at the screen. How dare she ruin me like this?

I built deals for her company. Now she acts like I'm trash. Rage burned hot. I can't stay here.

"My money paid for it all." she'll say.

She didn't even come back last night. Probably whoring around, that bitch.

No way. I'm leaving.

I stormed out to the garage, threw my duffel in the trunk of the Audi she bought for my birthday last year.

I drove to a decent hotel and tossed the keys to the valet and walked straight to the reception.

“A room for the night?” The receptionist inquired with a fake smile.

“King sized suite for two weeks."I said, sliding my platinum card to him.

The machine beeped. Declined.

"What the!?" I tried again. Same shit. Declined. Heart pounding, I whipped out my phone, checked the app.

All accounts frozen.

I tried a few more cards from my wallet, every goddamn one frozen. The receptionist gave me that shitty pity look. I snatched my cards back from his grubby hands and stormed out.

She froze all our shared accounts! I have my personal ones left but I already have big plans for that money. Plans that will destroy her ego.

I yanked open the Audi door and slid in, slamming it hard enough to rattle the frame. Fists tight on the wheel, breath ragged.

I could crash at Mary's loft downtown. She's one of my flings. Perfect spot to hole up. She'd let me in.

I hit her speed dial. Rang once. She snatched it up.

"Chris? You jerk! I lost my job today because of you and Darcelle! HR called me in at dawn, ranting about misconduct on premises. Videos, reports, your mess got me canned! Then you go ahead and ignore all my calls."

She'd get over it. Women like her always circled back.

"Mary. Unlock the door. I'm heading your way now."

"After you wrecked everything? No way."

"You will. Two minutes." I cut the call.

Tsk. Such a drama queen. I knew she'd cave in once I reached.

The loft door buzzed before I even reached it. Mary, predictable as ever, standing there in that silk slip, eyes already softening.

I didn’t bother with words. I stepped inside, kicked the door shut, and shoved her back against the wall. Her gasp turned into a moan the second my mouth crashed onto hers. Hands everywhere, mine yanking her slip up, hers clawing at my shirt like she hated me and needed me in the same breath. I tasted salt on her lips, anger and want mixed together.

"Took you long enough." Voice teasing, eyes lighting up at my duffel.

I didn’t answer her taunt. Instead I spun her around, pressed her chest to the wall, and shoved the silk higher until it bunched around her waist.

She arched back into me, already wet. I buried myself inside her in one rough thrust, her sharp cry swallowed by the crook of my neck as I bit down on her shoulder to keep from groaning too loud.

It was fast, angry, and desperate. Her nails raked red lines down my arms. I gripped her hips hard enough to bruise.

Mary came first, shuddering and cursing my name like a prayer, and I followed right after, spilling into her.

Then I pulled out, stepped back, and started gathering my clothes from the floor.

She slid down to sit on the hallway rug, slip still rucked up, thighs slick. Watching me button my shirt with lazy, knowing eyes.

“So,” she said, voice hoarse and smug, “did you finally get kicked out by Darcelle?”

I paused, fingers on the last button. I looked down at her.

“Not kicked out,” I said. “Just getting started.”

She looked at me as if didn't believe me.

“What are you gonna do? You have nothing against her.”

“You'll see.”

Darcelle's POV:

I returned home at night and found his closet cleared up. Thank God he left on his own. The morning had been slow, after we all woke up at Steve's villa everyone went ahead to attend to their businesses as did I.

A new shipment was arriving today and I had to be present there to check it all. The whole day had been hectic.

I took out a bottle of wine and poured myself some.

I dropped onto the cushions, remote in hand, and flicked on the TV. Mindless noise to fill the silence. I scrolled through channels, news, reruns, some late night talk shows until I landed on a movie.

One of those erotic thrillers, the kind with dim lighting and heavy breathing. I almost changed it, but the scene caught me.

A woman alone in a lavish room, silk robe slipping off her shoulder, her hand trailing down her body as soft music swelled.

I sipped my wine, leaning back. The actress's fingers dipped lower, teasing the edge of lace, her head tilting back with a soft gasp. Heat bloomed low in my belly, unbidden but familiar.

My day had been all business, numbers, crates, signatures.but now, alone in the dim glow of the screen, memories flooded back. Not of the movie. Of them. Noah, Steve, Josh.

I set the glass down on the coffee table, my hand lingering there, fingers tapping restlessly. The actress moaned softly, her hand slipping under the fabric, and I felt a answering throb between my legs. I shifted on the couch, thighs pressing together, but it only made the ache worse.

The wine warmed my veins, loosening the tension from the day, and I let my mind wander.

Noah first, always Noah with that intense gaze, the way he'd pin me with just a look. I remembered his mouth on my neck last night, nipping, sucking, sending sparks straight to my core.

My hand moved of its own accord, sliding up my thigh, pushing the hem of my pencil skirt higher. The fabric whispered against my skin, cool air kissing the exposed flesh. I traced the edge of my stockings, garters still clipped from the day, and imagined Noah's rough palms doing the same slow, deliberate, building the need until I begged.