On Friday, I promised to release a snippet into my current project providing Grayson, my main character, behaved and gave me my word count. He didn’t. Yet here I am still rewarding him. I guess I’m just as bad for enabling his sins.
So, who is Grayson Rush?
He’s a bad boy billionaire looking to expand his empire whilst maintaining all his other business ventures. He’s a hardworking man that enjoys the stress-relief of good-looking women. Plural. And he’s not after love; that takes too much of his precious time. But as womanizingly manwhoreish as he is, he also has a few redeeming qualities – his sense of humour, and the kindness that’s buried deep down in his heart. Deep, deep down. Remember that.
Anyway, this novel is all through his viewpoint, so it’s filled with filthy man-talk. You know, just so you’re warned beforehand. If that sounds like your kind of guy, then keep on reading.
*First draft. Content subject to change come publication. Copyright, Justine Winter 2015.*
“Good morning, Mr. Rush.”
“Olivia,” I acknowledge my secretary as I enter the top floor of Rush Tower that houses only my office. “What have we got going on today?” I ask as she hovers beside me, clearly something is on her mind.
“Your afternoon appointment with Enhance Graphics and Design has been moved to this morning. Now, in fact.”
I raise my brow, keen to meet the person with enough guts to rearrange my busy schedule. “Have they been waiting long?” I ask.
“No, sir. Just a few minutes. I have her in the conference room for you.”
“Thank you,” I appraise, flashing the grey-haired woman my warmest smile as I head toward my office to unload and prepare. “Hold my calls until I’m done.”
These days, loyal, hard-working assistants are hard to find. Most think it’s their best opportunity to screw me by applying for one of my jobs, but the truth is any girl on the street has a far greater chance of that happening. Workplace fucks never happen. It’s my number one rule. I can’t afford to mess business up with pleasure. Lawsuits, remember? They’d kill me. Never mind the work that would never get done, brain cells can be a bit lacking sometimes. Fuck, that was a nice way for me to put it. What I mean is, they’re all fucking dumb.
So when Olivia entered my doors, dressed conservatively elegant for her older age, I had no qualms that this would be the woman with only an agenda to work on her mind. And fuck me was I right. She’s brilliant.
As I hang my coat on the rack in my office, I consider using the effective power-shifting tool of making my appointment wait a little longer. I told you, I’m all about control. I’m the one in charge.
If I let one client rearrange my schedule then it sets the precedent for others, and I’ve worked too damn hard to be at another’s beck and call. But I’m also a professional. So in the thirty seconds it takes for me to have a to-and-fro battle in my mind of how this would play out, I decide to cut to the chase and get on with the reason I called for the meeting in the first place.
I straighten my jacket, pull on my stony business face, and head towards the conference room.
By the time I reach the glass doors, I’m afforded the chance of checking her out without her knowing. She’s staring out the windows, glaring at the view of London’s famous landmarks. Big Ben. Westminster. London Eye.
When I’ve eventually had my fill of her scrumptious arse and bare legs that are accentuated by the delicious four-inch heels she’s wearing, I clear my throat to announce myself, but even as the words leave my mouth I’m lost inside the most enchanting jade green eyes.
Call it what you will – lust, attraction, desire – I know I’m in fucking trouble. The number one rule I swore to myself just minutes ago already has me crippling with hatred. Fucking rules.
And that’s just her eyes. I take her in entirely, and I’m impressed. No, more than that. I’m a bloody animal that wants to press her bare cheeks up against the glass window and fuck her brains out until all she remembers is the raw pleasure I give her. Over and over.
Her lips are full, begging to be kissed. Her tits, though concealed in a smart, hot-pink dress, are bigger than my hands. And those sweet long legs look even better up close.
This is what I get for being a sexually active man. A boner for forbidden fruit.
“Mr. Rush, pleasure to meet you.”
Oh, it will be.
“I’m Maya Kennedy, Enhance’s junior designer.”
I blink, and blink again. Junior? I call for an important meeting with a new company and they send me a fucking junior?
“Is this a joke?” I ask, wondering what the girl’s gain is in wasting my time. She rearranges my day for this?
She sputters as if offended. “Not at all, Mr. Rush. My boss asked that I come in her stead. She’s out with food poisoning.”
I scrutinise her, knowing she’s seeing the dark danger in my eyes. Many have faltered under my gaze, yet she seems unaffected. Clearly she isn’t intimidated, and neither is she falling head-over-heels in love with me.
Oh, good god. It’s finally happened. I’ve lost it. You know, the it that makes me dangerously alluring. The it that makes businessmen I compete with squirm.
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!
“My qualifications and creative mind far succeed my job title, Mr. Rush. I wouldn’t be so quick to walk me out the door.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and the movement alone is enough to distract me for a few seconds.
What? She’s the one encouraging me to look. Don’t tell me women don’t do that on purpose to distract us men long enough to agree to whatever it is they want. It’s one of their womanly powers.
And it works, because I can’t remember what it is we were talking about when all I’m thinking about is having my cock wrapped in her tit sandwich for lunch.
“Mr. Rush, are you really so snobbish, you’d readily disregard what I can do for you and your company without the grace of assessing a simple mock-up beforehand?”
I smirk at her boldness, liking her confidence. Of course, I won’t tell her that. I like this fire in her.
“Please, sit down, Ms Kennedy.” I extend my hand to one of the many seats along the long conference table, eager to have her in my company, questioning my every word.
Christ, she’s fucking gorgeous.
She stares dubiously, no doubt assessing my intention. When she sits, I take it I’ve passed her test for now, and settle in a seat opposite her.
“So, what can Enhance Graphics and Design do for you, Mr. Rush?”
I have to hand it to her, she’s remaining professional no matter what she already thinks of me. And I know, based on her distance, that she has strong opinions about me. Which is fine for now, I’ll make sure I’ve changed her mind about me by the time the job is done.
Then, business will be over, and the all-night pleasure party can begin.