Page 14 of The Southern Submission

No matter how strongly she resists my charms, she’s eager to know about me. Perhaps wanting a story on Olympus or on my family motivates it. She could even be drawn to me in the same curious way I am to her. I have no problem dangling the carrot of information and an inside story in front of her. I’ll have plenty of opportunity to discover what she wants out of this connection now that we’re tied together for the foreseeable future, at least publicly.

The idea occurred to me on a whim as Harlowe backed me into a corner at the café. Having a favor in my pocket and realizing Ainsley would fulfill it regardless of the extremes meant I could ask for it. I don’t mind putting myself into a fake relationship if it gets me what I want—my freedom and a reprieve from Harlowe’s scheming.

It’s the kind of thing I’ve asked of my brothers when our company was under scrutiny and their relationship statuses could be used. Now it’s my turn to take one for the team and use it to my advantage. I just have to work out the details ofwhat this fake relationship will look like and how we’ll sell it to ensure Harlowe and the world believe it enough to give me an excuse to be a brokenhearted bachelor again in three months so she’ll leave me alone for a nice long time after that. If that means Ainsley and I have to appear to be wildly in love publicly, then that’s what it’ll take. I’m willing to do anything for Olympus and my freedom, even deceive my family when it’s for their benefit.

I pull myself out of the pool and drop onto a lounge chair. My chest heaves from the exertion I’ve put in before seven a.m., but I don't feel settled. All I have to look forward to today is my continued work of trying to solve a six-month-old cyber breach with cold leads, no closer to putting away Archer Donovan, the assumed culprit of the attack. I can’t find any connecting evidence that would mark him as the hacker to turn over to the authorities.

A business associate, Octavius Rex, gave us secondhand information that led us to Archer as the potential hacker for hire with a strong motive against Olympus. We destroyed his father’s company, Donner Investments, then sent his father to prison for orchestrating an industrial accident at one of our overseas properties in retaliation. But Archer covered his tracks with his infiltration and never publicly claimed the breach, meaning I can’t do shit about it now.

Archer moved through my firewalls and systems with a sophisticated program I’ve tried reverse engineering to discover how he did it to see if it will lead me back to him. It’s been gnawing at me for months that the system I built for Olympus failed at the hands of a twenty-five-year-old punk-ass kid who sold off proprietary information. This let our competitors take our cleaner-burning Pegasus jet engine plans to market before we could. I want to tie Archer to his crimes and turn him overto the authorities—after I’ve made him pay for his misdeeds in my own way. I want him to feel the same sting of failure and embarrassment I’ve endured for this colossal fuckup on my part. A petty hacker like him never should have infiltrated my system. I’ve reinforced the system and made it airtight since, but that doesn't change the past or that I failed in the first place, which is unacceptable.

Shit, Ainsley’s right. I don't have a life. I should have gone to the coast this weekend like I wanted. Then at least I’d be working from my yacht with a briny breeze blowing through my hair instead of sweating in Atlanta.But if I’d gone to the coast, I wouldn’t have met the Spitfire who has me in my head today and is now somehow my fake girlfriend.

She’s back in my head with that simple thought. What is it about Ainsley that keeps my mind circling back to her? She’s undoubtedly attractive, my physical ideal, with her blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, rosy pink lips, and pretty hazel eyes that narrow in suspicion each time she stares me down, but plenty of gorgeous women have caught my attention over the years. Is it that she says all the mean, unfiltered thoughts that pass through her head, or that she doesn’t feel the need to impress me because of my status and power? That has to be it. Ainsley knows exactly who I am and doesn’t seem to give a shit. She busts my balls and tells me it means nothing every time she opens her mouth, and I can't get enough.

She’s also using it to keep me at arm’s length, and I want to know why. Any other woman who’s been aware of my family and what our business is has been beyond friendly and willing to fall directly into bed at the first smile from me should I have been remotely interested. It’s refreshing to have someone, especially a woman, know my net worth and not trip over herself wanting to get something out of the connection.

Of course The Atlanta Haute List ran a story about me being spotted at The Unicorn Café before the day was even over, linking me to Ainsley as an unknown blonde and setting me up as the newestmost eligible billionaire bachelorfor Atlanta women to salivate over. The story will be a perfect way for me to introduce Ainsley as my new girlfriend to the public and squash that whole narrative.

I’ll have to feed a few select details of my own to the gossip site to encourage the connection. I’ve done this for Olympus over the years, keeping the company name in the news with small tidbits of positive information here and there, so it should work for me, personally, as well. A little PR magic never hurts, and using the Haute List to my advantage would finally be putting the salacious gossip site to good use after all the trouble it’s caused my family and business over the last two years.

I slick wet hair off my face as I grab a towel and dry off as I make my way into my bathroom. My phone chimes a few minutes later while I turn on the shower. I pluck it off the counter, thinking it could be one of my brothers, or even Harlowe checking in after reading the Haute List story and giving me a hard time about it, but I’m shocked to see it’s not from them at all.

Muffin: Why the hell did you end our conversation like that last night?

I bark out a laugh at the unexpected question, bringing my phone into the shower with me as I type back a response. Thank God for waterproof technology and large shower enclosures where I can keep my phone out of the spray. I don't want to miss the opportunity tospar with her.

Me: Why? Did you stay up all night thinking of me?

Good to know I’m not the only one with a brain stuck on repeat over the person I met yesterday. I put the phone on the ledge next to my shampoo and step into the shower spray, rinsing off until I hear my phone ring, surprised it’s the FaceTime sound instead of a text notification. She’s the initiator this morning. I smile and it feels wicked. I must’ve gotten under her skin good last night. I leave the phone on the ledge and accept the call. The camera only shows me from the abs up if I don’t step back. It could get indecent if I went far enough, but I can keep the mystery intact unless she requests otherwise. Then all bets are off and she can have whatever she wants. I’m not shy in the least.

“Miss me, Muffin?” I ask, loud enough to be heard over the sound of the shower.

“What the hell, Payton?! Why would you answer a video callwhile in the shower?” she screeches, her pretty eyes popping wide but not averting from my body, dominating her side of the screen.

“You called me. It’s only polite to accept.” I lift my arms and slick back my hair, giving her a show of my tan, wet, muscled arms and flexing abs with water sluicing down my chest toward other, hidden parts. “Like what you see of your new boyfriend?” I ask as she stays quiet and I catch her lips parting.

Her mouth snaps shut and she glares at me. “Fake boyfriend. It’s entirely inappropriate to answer a call like this. You could’ve declined and texted that you’re busy. Why do you have your phone in the shower, anyway?”

I reach out and grab the bottle of shampoo next to thephone. She moves like she thinks I’m reaching for her. I laugh, water dripping off my face with the movement. “It's efficient. Besides, I don't mind if you watch.”

She makes a sputtering noise, her cheeks growing red. “Idon’twant to watch you in the shower! You’re all…wet.”

I smile at her embarrassment over her blatant interest because she refuses to look away or hang up when that would solve her problem in the simplest way. “Relax, Spitfire. We all get wet when we shower.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but they return to me, and I give her a slow, sultry smile as I pour shampoo into my palm and return the bottle to the ledge. She doesn’t flinch away this time.

She stays silent, her face set into an uninterested look, but her eyes are burning hot and a rosy glow is creeping up her neck in a way that makes me want to see where else that pretty shade is coloring and how far down I can make it spread. My innuendo and the fact she knows I’m naked in the shower affect her and yet she continues watching.

Voyeur, my brain catalogs about her, while I’m an exhibitionist. Perfect fucking pairing.

“You know getting wet never hurt anyone. I spent the last hour working myself up, getting really wet, so I need this shower.”

Now I’m getting into it, playing up the tension, seeing where it’ll get me, just because I can. My brothers call me a meddler. They’re not wrong. I like to see what kind of reaction I can get from people. Ainsley’s easy to provoke. She wears her emotions on her sleeve despite wanting very much to appear unaffected, which is why she relies on her surly attitude and snappy replies more often than not. She started off a bit hard to read, but now she’s as clear to me as the newsprint her storiesrun in. I can read her every nuance, and I’ll use that to my advantage at every opportunity. If she were really mine, I’d be testing her boundaries for different reasons.

I lather the shampoo into my hair, really giving her something to watch. I’m not bad to look at. Even if I’m not built as huge as Hayes or as devastatingly handsome as Zander, I hold my own just fine, and I’ve been told I have eyes that women could drown in. I keep myself fit, maintaining a shredded body to ensure I can keep my brothers from killing each other when their dominant personalities clash in the boardroom—or anywhere, really. Being the middle brother—often the mediator—means I have to step in to soothe ruffled feathers and keep them from coming to physical blows more often than not. I have to stay fit enough to stop the freight train that is Hayes and nimble enough to intercept Zander’s willingness to bait him. Not easy with stubborn brothers who are too much alike and too eager to be the authority on everything.

I tip my head back into the spray and rinse the lather from my hair. I may step back a little too far because I hear a gasp over the sound of water hitting the tiles and cascading around my ears. I pull my head out of the spray, stepping forward again. I blink and check the small view of myself in the corner of the screen. She can see the V cut of my low abs but not my cock, so we’re good.

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