Long and Hard: A Bad Boy Box Set Read online

  I absentmindedly flip my pen over and over and try to recall the investment figure Joe mentioned earlier. The notepad in front of me is mostly blank, except for a few doodles I drew to help pass the time.

  “Repeat the investment amounts for me again. How much will we be out of pocket initially, and how long until we start seeing some cash flow?” I ask.

  Despite the monotony of the meetings, there’s only one thing capable of keeping my attention… money. I need the cold hard facts. How much do you need? When do I get it back? And how much interest will be included? The bottom line is the most important thing to me, luckily my other board members help handle the rest.

  Joe flips back through his notes and repeats the information he knows I’m looking for. One bad investment, a single wrong move has the power to render me penniless. Thankfully, I make all the right moves.

  The other investors swivel their chairs to face me, waiting on the final decision. We work together as a team, but there can only be one boss.

  “Sounds good to me,” I say. “I’ll have Amelia draw up the necessary documents and we’ll get this show on the road.”

  Everyone gathers their various notebooks and folders, preparing to leave the conference room. I grab my things and prepare to bolt, but Joe blocks the door.

  “Slow down, Asher,” he says playfully. “We just closed on a major deal, let’s go celebrate.”

  Celebrate. I’m not sure I know what that word means anymore.

  It’s been ages since I’ve celebrated anything. I go on a few bland dates a month and to the occasional company party. I’m usually juggling several things at a time, and partying doesn’t rate highly on my agenda. There are twenty-four hours in the day and I prefer to spend mine making money.

  Normal people can live in the moment, but not me. I like to schedule everything, including fun. When someone asked me to have drinks in my early twenties, I would drop whatever I was doing and party all night. But at thirty-five, my priorities are a little different.

  “Not tonight, Joe,” I say. “I’m slammed with work, plus I have some loose ends to tie up at the building I’m looking to purchase.”

  Joe steps aside to allow me out of the room, but follows me down the hall to my office.

  “You and I both know you can do this job with your eyes closed. Besides, you know what they say, all work and no play will make a man’s balls shrivel up,” he teases.

  We laugh as I shove a stack of paper into my briefcase and check the time on my Rolex. If anything is worth having, then make sure you have the best, is a motto I live and die by. My suits, cars and way of life in general all fall under this motto and I must stay focused to maintain my standards.

  “You’re absolutely right,” I say. “Trust me, my balls are currently in no immediate danger, but I promise we’ll get together soon and party all night. In the meantime, go tie one on with the guys. You worked hard on this deal these last few months and gave an amazing presentation. You deserve to celebrate and have a little fun.”

  We walk out of my office and Joe claps me hard on the back before we part ways in the hallway. I enjoy the silence of the elevator as I ride down to the ground floor. Given the number of meetings I have in a day, I always appreciate the moments of quiet, no matter how short. I stand out front and wait for my Rolls-Royce to pull up, a rare occurrence since I hate waiting for anything.

  Ed, my driver for the last ten years is the only person who could get away with such an oversight. He’s more like family, but I still give him an eyebrow raise when he gets out, tilting his hat knowingly in my direction before opening the door to the backseat. I slide inside and pull out my phone.

  Amelia has updated my schedule yet again and sent a confirmation email about the meeting we just had.

  Ed gets in the car and adjusts the temperature to my liking. “Are we heading for the Hills, or the new place?”

  I sigh and tuck my phone into my pocket. “The new place,” I say.

  Ed grunts a reply and pulls off into traffic. The building isn’t far from my office and we pull up just in time for me to spot the maintenance man standing in the alley smoking a cigarette.

  “Stop the car, Ed,” I say.

  The car rolls to a stop and I get out without waiting on my driver to get the door for me. Grant, the useless maintenance man, glances up at me. He appears nervous as his eyes dart from one side to the other, probably searching for an escape.

  “You’ve been dodging me for over a week,” I say, standing toe to toe with the man. “I asked you to change those filters and fix the leak in my place before I moved in and it’s still not done. I know you received my texts, calls and voicemails about the other shitload of things that need to be completed around here.”

  Grant drops his cigarette butt on the ground and steps on it. “I haven’t been dodging you, Mr. Jordan. Just give me a chance to explain.”

  This lazy man is costing me money and I need the improvements done to help bolster the asking price on this deal. I step back and fold my arms, not caring about the creases I’m making in my tailored suit.

  “This had better be good.”

  Chapter 5

  JADE

  I RIDE THE elevator down to the lobby and briefly scrutinize my outfit in the mirrored glass. Unlike Magdalene, I don’t have a need for high fashion, especially for my bi-weekly trips to the grocery store. My tank top, shorts and favorite pair of sandals work out just fine. I grab my hair and wrap it into a knot on the top of my head. It’s humid outside and I hate being hot, especially with my hair sticking to my neck.

  I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded piece of paper so I can double check my shopping list. Grocery shopping is one of the rare occasions Magdalene stays home with Jacob. It’s a welcomed break and I’m grateful she agreed to allow me to grocery shop alone. I love Jacob, but it’s hard trying to pick out fresh meat and vegetables and care for a fussy baby all at the same time. I have no idea how hands-on parents can do it without the help of a nanny or some other assistance. I guess my maternal instincts aren’t quite as evolved just yet, because now that Jacob is older, he’s constantly grabbing things, trying to rub everything along his teething gums.

  The elevator dings loudly before the doors slide open. I step out and pat my pockets for my keys. I’m always misplacing stuff. When it’s time to shop, I tend to focus on my list, and sometimes forget the other important things I need, like my keys and cell phone. I check all my pockets and finally my purse.

  After finding both my keys and phone, I quickly rush out the lobby and head to the parking garage. When I’m out and about with Jacob I’m required to ride in the chauffeured car kept on reserve, but during my “me time” and my shopping trips, I take my own car, a blue Honda Accord with a small dent on the side. Comfort is key when I’m running errands and nothing other than cooking brings me quite as much comfort as driving my own car.

  Just as I pass through the side of the lobby with the revolving doors, Mrs. Montgomery and her overly friendly dog nearly tackle me to the ground. I catch myself and steady my balance to stop the disaster mid-collision.

  Mrs. Montgomery is a short round woman with a subtle blue tint in her hair. She’s what I like to call “old money.” She’s the true definition of a professional widow and is full of amazing stories about each marriage. Her husbands died and left her everything… all six of them. I don’t like to speculate, but I do wonder if all their deaths were as natural as she claims. Maybe I just watch too many crime shows. Each one she married had a net worth higher than the last. With no children to speak of, she freely spends her money on her dog and whatever new boy toy she takes on for the evening.

  Most of the older ladies in the condo have purse dogs like little miniature poodles or a yappy Maltese, but not Mrs. Montgomery. She had to have a giant German shepherd named Trixie. She swears Trixie is just a puppy, but the size and heft of the bulldozer-like pet suggests otherwise. Deep down I’m slightly jealous of Trixie. She has a diamo
nd-encrusted collar and only drinks imported water. I remember the day Mrs. Montgomery told me the hefty price of that collar, even furnishing papers to show she had it insured. Damn dog lives better than I do.

  “Jessica, thank heavens you showed up just in time,” says Mrs. Montgomery, smiling to reveal yellow teeth with a smear of lipstick on them. “I need to go back up to my apartment for a moment. Trixie’s in a mood and is being a little stubborn.”

  I pull my lips into a tight line. Every time I see Mrs. Montgomery she calls me by the wrong name. I’ve been called Jessica, Jasmine and Janelle on more than one occasion and once all three names during a single conversation. At this point I’m somewhat grateful she at least calls me by a J-name, even if it’s the wrong one. When we first met, she used to simply snap her fingers at me to get my attention.

  After ignoring her and allowing a few elevator doors to “accidentally” close in her face, she started trying to call me by a name, even if it’s not mine.

  “It’s Jade,” I say.

  She claps her hand to her forehead as if she just forgot, her withered fingers weighted down with several diamond and ruby rings.

  “Jade, that’s right. Sorry, honey,” she says. “As I was saying, Trixie is being a bit stubborn and I just need you to hold on to her while I run upstairs to grab some filet mignon to coax her back inside. Based on how stubborn she’s acting, I may have to bring in the big guns and grab that imported pâté she likes. At two grand a pop, I completely understand why she loves it so much.”

  I try to wave her off and sidestep my way around Mrs. Montgomery. “Well, I ca—”

  But before I’m able to finish the word, she shoves the leash into my hands and waddles right by me.

  “Thanks, darling, I’ll be right back,” she says, disappearing inside before stepping into the elevator.

  I look down at Trixie, feeling well… tricked. Magdalene only gives me an hour and a half to shop and my already-limited time is ticking away. I pull out my phone to check how long I have left.

  Shit.

  I glance back at the lobby for a sign of Mrs. Montgomery, but it’s empty.

  What the hell is taking her so long? Maybe I can tie Trixie to a post and just apologize to Mrs. Montgomery later.

  As if she can read my mind and knows I’m trying to get rid of her, Trixie starts to pull away from me. Given her size and strength, versus my own, she easily wins the brief game of tug-of-war and the leash slips from my hand.

  “Damn it, Trixie, get back here,” I say, but it’s too late. Trixie takes off running, her diamond-studded collar reflecting brightly in the sunlight.

  Mrs. Montgomery is going to kill me.

  I chase after Trixie, cursing loudly under my breath. She weaves in and out of the parked cars and heads to the alley. I inhale and exhale, measuring my breaths as I kick my high-school track star talent into high gear.

  Trixie turns the corner, but I’m right on her heels and manage to get close enough to dive for the leash just as she enters the alley.

  “Gotcha,” I say, grabbing the leash.

  Trixie and I both pant loudly as we struggle to catch our breath. I really want to tie her to something and leave her to be Mrs. Montgomery’s problem once again.

  Just as I’m about to drag Trixie back to our building, loud voices draw my attention further down the alleyway. I instantly recognize the dirty jumpsuit worn by Grant, the lazy maintenance man of the building next door. I don’t consider him the maintenance man of anything really. Most of the time, he’s in this alley smoking a cigarette or sitting in the stairwell of our building arguing loudly with his girlfriend on the phone. Here he is yet again, arguing with someone else, judging by the heated exchange between the two. I take a few steps closer as the man Grant is going at it with turns just enough for me to catch his profile. I’m stunned for a moment, but quickly regain my senses. I’d know that face anywhere, even though I’ve only seen it briefly from afar.

  It’s him. Mr. Peeping Tom from the other day.

  I instantly make up my mind to confront the creepy asshole on the spot. I want him to know he’s busted and his little game is over. This is as good a time as any, especially since I doubt he will try anything crazy with Grant standing around as a witness, or Trixie standing in as my bodyguard.

  My heart pounds in my ears as anger forces me to close the short distance between me and the men.

  “Hey!” I say.

  Both men stop arguing long enough to look over at me. I point my finger at the creepy guy. Despite my anger, I can’t help but notice his custom suit and how it perfectly hugs his body. I’m pissed off to see he’s even more attractive in person than he was when I saw him the other evening. It’s plain to see the man works out on a regular basis. He has a muscular build, but he’s not too bulky.

  Damn it, all the cute ones are taken, mean or creepy.

  “I saw you the other day,” I say, jabbing the man in the chest with my finger.

  His gray eyes look down at where I just poked him. He slowly looks up at me, and tilts his head to the side. “Excuse me?”

  His voice is deep, and the warmth in his tone softly caresses my skin like a gentle hug, sending a shiver down my spine. I briefly notice the deep dark hue of his hair. It’s shiny, but not greasy, causing his hair to appear more obsidian than just a regular dark color.

  “I saw you,” I repeat. “Watching me undress. You were spying on me with your telescope. You have several of them pointed directly at my window!”

  The man steps back, shakes his head and laughs. “Lady, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you give me just a moment, I’m sure we can clear up any misunderstandings.”

  He points to a spot off to the side. “Wait right there and we can talk in just a second.”

  He turns back to a stunned Grant, who is now checking me out from head to toe, and starts back yelling at him. He laughed. Laughed at me like I’m a joke. What a complete asshole.

  I stand there for a second, too mad to even move. I feel my anger rising as heat rushes to my cheeks. I’m positive I’m red in the face and my hand shakes a bit. He practically dismissed me. Actually, that’s precisely what he did. He dismissed me just like Heath dismisses me, as if I’m an annoying fly to shoo away. An image of Heath and how he treats me on a regular basis instantly shoots to the forefront of my mind.

  ‘Wait right there.’ Who does he think he’s talking to?

  I turn on my heels and stomp back to my building with Trixie in tow.

  “Wait!” yells the man. “Miss, come back!”

  I keep my back turned, refusing to even acknowledge him calling out to me.

  Fuck you.

  Fortunately, Mrs. Montgomery is coming out of the building as I walk up with Trixie.

  “Oh, darling, you didn’t have to take her for a walk.”

  “It was just a short one.”

  “Yes, my Trixie is quite energetic. She’s just a puppy! I must be off. Thank you, Jeannette.”

  I glance at my watch and realize that my shopping trip will have to be rushed.

  Chapter 6

  ASHER

  JOE IS A man after my own heart, if only I was ten years older and still woman crazy. More to the point, neither one of us knows how to take no for an answer, which is how I ended up on this boring blind date. I like to think his take no-prisoners attitude is what makes him a successful partner at my firm.

  I’m not exactly trying to ignore my date, but I can’t stop myself from glancing at my phone for the millionth time. I work hard to make my boredom not be so obvious, pretending to at least appear somewhat interested in my date.

  Like every woman Joe seems to know, my date is a model. He swore this one was different from all the rest and I just had to meet her. What I should have done is consider the source of this information. I knew better, but I also knew I wouldn’t be able to dodge Joe or the date for too long, so I reluctantly agreed. Big mistake.

  I’m willing to bet my ent
ire fortune Joe finds these women all in the same place. I knew at first glance this one is the same as the others. From her tight dress to the make-up caked on her face, I could tell from a mile away. The pissed-off blonde with the dog from yesterday definitely didn’t fit that same mold. Her beauty was effortless with her fresh face and messy hair.

  To be fair, Alexa, my date, is absolutely gorgeous, but looks aren’t enough anymore and I’ve had enough models. I occasionally nod politely as she explains every single detail about the latest fashion show she walked in. In truth, I’m only catching every other word of this one-sided conversation.

  She name-drops different designers she’s worked with and how she’s due in Paris next week for another show. Luckily, the server enters and interrupts her little story time by handing us the menus. Alexa pauses for a moment to review the options and I use this time as an opportunity to check my phone. I’m expecting Amelia to send over a few documents I need to review, and at this point they would be more interesting than this date.

  “I’ll have a watercress salad, no dressing, but bring two lemon wedges on the side,” says Alexa, handing the menu back to the server without looking at him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a steak or a lobster tail?” I ask although I know the answer.

  She complained the whole ride over here about how she couldn’t wait to eat and now she practically orders a forty-dollar plate of grass. These models are all the same. I can’t imagine going to dinner, with someone else footing the bill might I add, and only eating a salad. Not that I want to be taken advantage of, but I also don’t want another incident where my date passes out from not eating enough food. Now that was a date to remember for sure, and not in a good way.

  “I’m sure,” she says, leaning over the table, her breasts spilling out of her tight dress. “I have to maintain my figure for work.”