Page 3 of Irresistible Temptation
“Of course.”
“Thanks. Bye, Gabs.” I hung up and pulled myself from the plush bath rug. I walked toward the mirror and removed the towel over my head. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and shook my head.
“You couldn’t have just had a chill, calm morning, could you?” I asked myself.
I would have laughed, if I didn’t feel like I was going to erupt into tears. Instead, I took a deep breath and tried to do what Gabriella said. Brush it off. I opened the bottom drawer of the bathroom counter and pulled out my blow dryer and round brush. I began drying my hair and trying to ignore the images of myself on my phone screen that kept popping in my head.
Maybe it was a grainy livestream and no one could tell it was me. 270,000 people isn’t that many in comparison to how many people populate the planet. Aside from people who I’m friends with, it was just a bunch of strangers who would probably get a laugh out of it and forget about it. These were all things I kept telling myself as I worked the round brush through my hair, holding the blow dryer with the other hand.
Once my hair was dry and looked half decent, I applied a coat of mascara, a pop of blush, and some clear gloss on my lips. I brushed the shine from the small mole above the right side of my lip, trying to take away any emphasis on the one of many insecurities I had. Then I quickly dressed in the cream skirt suit I had steamed the night before that was neatly hanging in my closet. I studied myself in the mirror, feeling mostly mortified, and only somewhat professional. Lifting my shoulders in a shrug, I let out a deep breath. This was as good as it was going to get.
Chapter 2
Chester
Ireached for my alarm clock on the nightstand beside my bed, turning it off just a minute before the lit green numbers changed. It was set to go off at. 4 a.m. on the dot. My internal alarm clock has been set to that wake time for years. I didn’t know why I even bothered with an alarm anymore, when my body did the job for me. I rubbed the sleep away from my eyes and kicked at the plush duvet that was wrapped around me like a cocoon.
Stretching as I made my way to the large window of my bedroom, I looked down at the city below. The purple haze of the sky was glittered with the surrounding lights of the buildings, just waiting for the sun to relieve them. I placed my hand on my lower back and jutted my hips forward in a morning stretch. Just clad in my boxer briefs, no one could see me up this high in my tower of a penthouse. It was why I chose the place. Not only for the view, but for the privacy to do what I wanted and with whom. The pretty penny I paid for it was worth it.
I strode for my closet, the overhead lights flicking on as soon as I opened the door to the warm, wood-paneled room. I changed into gym shorts and a cut-off tee that I had set out the night before for this morning’s training session, followed by a pair of the latest workout shoes. I laced up the clean white strings tightly.
The building’s gym was occupied by only a few other residents of the building, the usuals I would see at this hour of the morning. I gave them a tight-lipped nod as I passed, turning up the music on my headphones as I usually did. I wasn’t one for small talk. Thankfully, no one ever tried and the gym was spacious enough to keep my distance so I could focus on my workout.
I grabbed a set of weights from the black metal rack and faced the floor-to-ceiling mirrors to begin my set of bicep curls. Not before long, beads of sweat dampened above my brow as I grunted through the last and heaviest set. All the while, I ran through the list of things I had to do that day.
Shower.
Breakfast.
World domination.
Not really, but it may as well be in the business I was in. I was to take over my third business of this year. The press called it a merger, but I saw it for what it really was; I was buying a company for dirt cheap. It was being liquidated, and I got to buy up its assets for pennies. Nonprofits weren’t exactly my forte orreally anything I cared about, but I knew it looked good for me. Yesterday’s paper even called me a charitable man, which was a bald-faced lie, but again, good for business.
The press was never this kind. I was usually called a “hatchet man” by journalists and former employees of mine. Former for a reason. I took it as a compliment, but others didn’t see it that way. It wasn’t my job to protect anyone’s feelings, or livelihood, for that matter. My job was to come in and see where the weaknesses were and cut them out for bigger and better things. If people could just see it was for the good of the company, then maybe they wouldn’t feel the need to slander me. But the numbers didn’t lie. Every company I had acquired or “merged” with had doubled in numbers at the very minimum.
I smirked to myself as I picked up the set of weights from the bench and began pressing them overhead. I was good at what I did. People just needed to have a villain or someone to blame for their shortcomings. It didn’t bother me. I lived in the greatest city in the world, in this luxe building, with more money in my bank accounts than I knew to do with.
After about thirty more minutes and my final rep of upright rows, I set the weights back down on the rack with a dull clank and toweled off my brow and the back of my neck. With music still pulsing through my ears, I headed for the frosted glass doors of the gym and pushed through them, aware of the eyes on me as I left. It was what came with being the richest man in the building. Hell, the richest on the upper east side.
Back upstairs in my apartment, I ran the shower and waited for the steam to rise to the high ceilings. I stripped out of my dampgym clothes and stepped into the shower, my skin welcoming the heat of the water as it sprayed against my back. I closed my eyes and my to-do list popped back in my head, as it so often did. Business was always on my mind.
First things first…
Coffee.
Then I had to meet with the lead accountant. I needed a rundown on finances to see how far in the hole this nonprofit was and where I would need to cut down and cut out. This needed to be done before heading into the first major company meeting where I would have to plaster on a smile as I met the employees of the office, all while mentally picking and choosing which were going to stay and which were going to go. I had a pretty good sense just by looking at people. They either had it or they didn’t.
Once I was rinsed off and smelling of sandalwood and vetiver, courtesy of a recent shopping trip to Bloomingdale’s where the woman behind the counter was very convincing, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. With my palm, I wiped a circle into the fog of the large mirror that hung above the white quartz countertops. I quickly brushed my teeth and shaved before running a pomade through my damp sandy brown hair.
I quickly dressed in my freshly pressed navy suit that the dry cleaners had delivered to my door just last night. Paired with a crisp white button-down and a matching silk blue tie, I wasready to head to the office over two hours earlier than I needed to be there. It was better to be early than on time, even if it was excessively early.
I had my town car driver drop me off at the coffee shop just down the block from the office building before dismissing him with a single wave. The aroma of freshly ground beans wafted toward me as I stepped up the threshold and through the open glass door. My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket. I slid it out and glanced at the screen, curious as to who was calling this early in the morning.
Will.
“Hey, man,” I answered, stepping into the short line of the coffee shop, my eyes darting immediately to the perky ass of the redhead in front of me. I raised my brows, impressed.
“Chester! Have you started making anyone cry yet?” asked Will with a smirk surely plastered across his lips.
