Page 25 of Enemies, Lovers & A Valentine's Baby

I struggled, but eventually built my company from scratch. Took what was nothing and turned it into this billion-dollar empire.

But it’s still not enough. It’s never enough.

I spent too many years as a kid just wishing for the barest minimum, and now, it feels like no matter how much I have, there’s always the fear of that I’ll lose it all and be nothing more than that scrawny little kid that grew up in an orphanage, with nothing more than the clothes on his back. It’s what leaves me with the never-ending need to prove to myself that I can have anything that I want. Anytime I want it.

It partly explains why I go through as many women as I do.

Because I know I can have them whenever I want. On my terms.

Now, one of them is sitting downstairs, waiting for me.

I sigh, dusting invisible lint off my jacket, and make my way out of my office.

Ashley’s eyes widen just a fraction as she sees me. She’s seated at a corner table, wearing a short dress, long legs strategically crossed to give off the best view.

Her eyes greedily run over me. She’s never been shy about telling me about how good-looking she thought I was. She lived for trying to get me naked. Insatiable in bed.

Most men would be flattered by this, but it did nothing to satisfy me.

“Baby,” she squeals jumping up. Before I can think, she grabs the back of my head and pulls me in for a kiss.

Was the smell of her perfume always this overpowering?

She drops down to her knees in front of me, pulling my shirt up as she expertly unbuckles my belt.

Irritable now, I grab her hands and push her off to the side.

I grab a tissue on the coffee table and wipe my mouth, anxious to get the feel and taste of her off me.

“Don’t.”

“What’s wrong, baby?” she whines, still on the floor. “Why haven’t you been returning my calls?” Her eyes start to glisten.

God, I can’t deal with this today.

She stands up, straightening her dress. “I’ve been trying to see you, but the reception—”

“My assistant,” I correct.

“Whatever. That bitch has been refusing to let me see you. Obviously, she doesn’t know who I am to you. I’ve been waiting for hours.”

My eyes harden. “Don’t you ever speak about her like that again,” I say coldly. “Plus, it’s been less than ten minutes; you’d think you’d be able to tell time with my watch that you stole,” I say, glancing at the new platinum Rolex around my wrist.

This isn’t the one I had on the last time I saw her.

That one had been sneakily tucked away in her purse that I accidentally knocked over as I tried to quietly make my way out of the hotel room early the next morning.

I stared at that watch on the ground, watching the gold gleaming amongst the other contents of her bag that were strewn all across the floor.

In the end, I decided to let her keep it. She didn’t deserve a $25,000 watch, but it was a much-needed reminder to me that I was right in my assessment of women.

So, I just gathered up the items on the floor—a pack of gum, some lip gloss and wipes, along with the watch, and shoved it all back into her fake Birkin bag.

She really has some nerve, showing up here like this, after stealing from me.

“What? I—I didn’t—” she starts to stutter, but I raise my hand, cutting her off.

“Look, Ashley, I only came here to spell it out clearly to you, because you obviously haven’t been getting the message. It was just sex. That’s it. It was never going to be more than sex, although there might have been a little more sex if you hadn’t stolen my watch,” I say matter-of-factly.

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