Page 45 of Beautiful Desire
God, he’s such a fucking dick. Who the hell says something like that about their own kid? And then he has the fucking audacity to threaten me? I have half a mind to reply and tell him what a piece of shit he is, but I’m not going to. I’ve done my forced, obligatory once-a-week email. I refuse to communicate with that poor excuse of a parent and man any more than that. Besides, as much as I loathe this fact, Idoneed something from Alden, and over my dead body will I lose that after I’ve put in all the work.
He can go to hell.
Fletcher deserves so much more than what he’s getting from his so-called father.
21
Georgia
Fletcher: Hey, I’m here, but the door’s locked.
Me: I’m coming up.
Tossing the phone on my desk, I walk out of my office and hurry toward the front to let him in. The store closed about an hour ago, but I stayed back to finish a few things.
Standing under the awning outside, Fletcher nods his chin and grins when he spots me. My stomach dips as I take him in, wearing a yellow crop sweatshirt, with the sleeves rolled up, black athletic shorts, that are entirely too short, and a pair of clean, white tennis shoes. He looks hot, and I’m guessing he’s coming from the gym. Opening the door, he walks past me into the store as I click the deadbolt into place again. My gaze immediately drags down his back, and I can’t help but notice how fucking bitable his ass looks in those tiny shorts.
Jesus, I really am no better than a man.
“Is everything all right?” he asks as he turns to face me.
“Yeah.” I nod, strolling past him. “Follow me.”
“Are we about to act out some sexy fantasy you have about getting fucked on your desk or something?” he asks as we walk into my office.
Barking out a laugh, I turn and face him, the question catching me off guard. “No? Why the hell would you think that?”
Waggling his brows, Fletcher flashes me a smirk that has no business being so attractive. “Maybe because things have been tense between us since the night after the bar, but you sent me a random-ass text, telling me to meet you at your storeafter hours, and we’re the only ones here?”
“And in your brain, that automatically meant I was looking for sex?”
“Hell yeah.” He snorts. “Can’t say I’d blame ya for needing to be dicked down by your stepbrother’s thick cock again. I know damn well I fucked you good the first time.”
“Ew, never say that again.” Face twisting up, I pretend to gag, even though the idea of getting railed over my desk turns me on. “That isnotwhy I asked you to come here, you pervert.”
Fletcher laughs and pulls out the chair in front of my desk, taking a seat as I do the same. “Okay, then what, Peach?”
“I’d like to help you with your capstone,” I say before reaching into my drawer and pulling out a stack of papers I printed earlier. Setting them down in front of him, I meet his gaze and say, “I called your dad and got all the information you’ll need to create a proper business plan for a secondary location, like you said. It’s all right here.” Not knowing how Fletcher’s going to react to me going to his father, my stomach twists as he glances at the papers on the desk, then at me.
“Why would you do that?” he finally asks, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Because, Fletcher, you told methreedays ago you hadn’t even started it yet,” I point out. “And if you remember, in order for me to keep my store, I have to make sureyougraduate.”
“Trust me, I didn’t forget.” He shakes his head and huffs a laugh. “But nah, that’s not it.”
“Excuse me?” My gaze narrows.Is he fucking serious?“Do you want myfreehelp or not?”
“Georgia, I’m not stupid. There’s a reason my father wantedyou, specifically, to see me through the rest of my program. You and I weren’t close when I was growing up, so it’s not like he just knew you’dwantto help me. And it sure as hell isn’t simply because it’s part of some deal that lets you keep the store. That’s far too generous for him.” Sitting back in the chair and clasping his hands together, Fletcher watches me inquisitively. “Alden St. James is nothing if not strategic when it comes to business, and one thing he definitely isnotis a gambling man. There is a reason he chose you, Georgia—a careful,deliberatereason he made that deal with you—and I want you to finally tell me what that reason is. Therealreason.”
I knew he wasn’t going to drop this, but he’s asking me to talk about a time in my life that I generally prefer not to even think about, and he doesn’t even realize it. But given how I have a front-row seat to the bullshit with his asshat of a father, and how he’s shared some of his own struggles with me, the least I can do is give him this, even if thinking back to that time makes my skin crawl.
“Fine.” Sitting back, I swallow around the lump in my throat, ignoring the tightness in my chest. “When I was nineteen, I started dating this guy named Timmy, who I met in undergrad, and we?—”
Fletcher snorts, cutting me off. “Okay, rewind. You dated a guy—anadultman—whose name isTimmy? Not Tim? Not Timothy?Timmy?Does he have fairy godparents too?”
“Do you want to hear the story?” I blurt out, rolling my eyes.
Biting back a laugh, he says, “Sorry, continue. You and Timmy Turner dated…”
