Why I'm Yours Read online

  “Where to, ma’am?”

  I shift my gaze toward the voice, and an instant relief washes over me. A woman driver smiles back at me. She’s a burly woman who is three times my size but a woman nonetheless.

  I ramble off my Lake Shore Drive address as I lean back against the seat, my pulse slowing as calmness settles over me. The cab begins to ease forward, and I look to my right one last time to find Andrew still standing near the front entrance of the club. His dress shirt’s unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up his arms, showing off his strong forearms.

  I’m not blind. I noticed instantly how attractive he was. Strong jawline, broad shoulders, the epitome of perfection. He screams confidence, and this realization hits me hard. He handles himself well, and I want to go back and spend time with him. If I show him any attention, then I’ll be giving him the wrong idea, and I don’t want that to happen.

  My cheeks heat as his gaze connects with mine before I can no longer see him.

  I knew, if I had met him prior to Zane, I wouldn’t have been in a cab, leaving him standing on the sidewalk. But those times of giving in to temptation are over. Men like Drew have expectations. They want women with experience and kink. I'm not that woman.

  The dominance he exuded made me nervous. I told myself leaving was the best thing.

  This night isn’t what I expected. I met Russ for a purpose—to scratch an itch. Russ is safe. Yes, he’s the furthest from my type, but he’s safe. He’s one of my go-to men, one I can control, and he never tries to take that from me. He’s older, a divorcé. He’d do just about anything I asked if it meant he would gain something in return. Something being, a quick round of mind-blowing sex—for him, not me. It was mediocre at best. Again, it served a purpose.

  Now, the idea of sleeping with Russ gives me an uneasy feeling.

  Why I felt that taking Russ home was suddenly forbidden is beyond me. It’s not like it’d have been the first time.

  The cab pulls along the curb just outside my apartment, and I offer the fare plus a generous tip before moving toward the door.

  “Have a nice evening,” the cab driver says, offering a casual wave before driving away.

  Entering the building, I politely smile to Henry, the door attendant on duty, as I move toward the elevator. While waiting for it to arrive, my mind wanders back to Andrew and his persistence.

  Why was he so adamant that I join them?

  He doesn’t know me. I’m sure he only saw me as a new target. Someone he could get comfortable with and keep on the side for those moments when the mood struck him, and there was no one else around.

  A toy to play with.

  Well, I have news for Mr. Powers. I’m no man’s toy.

  The chirp of the elevator regains my attention, and I step to the side just as the doors slide open. Once it’s empty, I step inside and press for floor six. Then, I lean back toward the wall and focus on the lit panel above. Doing my best to keep my mind off the searing look that Andrew offered as the cab pulled away, I remain focused on the fact that, even though he might be handsome and alluring, he’s a man, and all men are the same.

  I step inside the apartment and jump at the sound of Aimee’s voice as it carries throughout the space.

  “Alone?” she asks.

  “Yep,” I say with a shrug as I pull off one heel and then the other. “I wasn’t feeling it.”

  “Yeah, Russ doesn’t seem like he’s packing to impress, so I see that.” She snickers at her own joke when I narrow my eyes at her. “What? I’m not sure how you can even go out with that man. He isn’t anyone I’ve ever imagined you being attracted to.”

  My love life, if you can even categorize it as that, is one thing Aimee and I rarely discuss. It isn’t for her lack of trying. I'm tremendously good at avoiding those topics. It’s easier to play it off as if I truly were attracted to Russ and his type.

  “He’s sweet, and he makes me feel like no other woman out there matters,” I say, moving past the space where she’s lying back on the couch.

  “That’s because he’s in complete awe and most likely in shock that he landed a woman with your looks,” she adds.

  Instead of biting back and taking the chance of this conversation veering off into territory I want to steer clear of, I choose to change the subject. “What are you doing home anyway? I thought you were going out with the guy you met at the café? What was his name? Lyle or Kyle?”

  “Changed my mind.” She dismissively waves her hand.

  “Because?” I push, knowing there’s a story.

  “He’s a whore,” she says. “I saw him kissing Maggie from HR near the elevators, and I decided to cut ties. If it was Bridget instead of Maggie, I might have been down for a little ménage à trois.”

  I choke on the water I’d just taken a sip of and lean over, trying to regain control.

  “Seriously, you remember Bridget?”

  I turn just in time to see her holding her hands out in front of herself, indicating a large set of breasts.

  “I’ve never tried it, but for her, I think I might give it a go.” With a wag of her eyebrows in a suggestive manner, I can no longer hold back my laughter.

  I adore this girl and her ability to change my sour mood in an instant.

  11

  Drew

  I overhear my mother asking Reagan to get her coffee from the nearby Starbucks, and I walk in, ready to give her my order as well.

  “A venti café latte with an extra shot of espresso.”

  Reagan turns and glares at me. I notice she isn’t writing down my order, and I can see my mother inching forward.

  “Do you need me to repeat that for you?” I ask, raising a brow and waiting for her to respond.

  “Why do you think it’s okay to come in here and tell me what to do without simply asking politely? Are you above being polite, Andrew?”

  I can’t help but smile at her tone and ferocity. She’s the only woman who talks to me in this manner, especially in front of my mother. She’s definitely not like the others, and if I want to get Reagan’s attention, I need to play the game she’s playing because no one as sweet-looking as her can be this sassy all the time.

  “It would mean so very much to me if you can get me something since you’ll be fetching a drink for Miranda.”

  “Fetching?”

  I nod. “Yes, fetching. That’s what you’re doing.”

  Reagan inches closer to me and tilts her head back a little, raising her chin with sheer confidence. I’m so fucking turned on by her need to constantly challenge me. Never before has something turned me on to this magnitude.

  “Dogs fetch.”

  “Your point?” I ask.

  She sweetly smiles. “Are you sure you want me to get you your latte, Mr. Powers?”

  “Why, yes, Reagan, I am positively sure.”

  “Okay. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  “I’m okay,” I say. I give my mom a quick glance. “Mother?”

  “Oh, no, dear. Please use the company card, and I’ll see you in a few.”

  Reagan walks out, and as soon as the door closes, I take a seat on the chair in front of my mother’s desk. I’m expecting a lecture from her.

  “You’d better be nice to her, darling. She’s not one to be messed with. And I like her, so don’t you dare do anything stupid. I can tell you right now, if I lose her, then you’ll be in the mailroom for two months and working every single weekend.”

  I gasp playfully, appearing to be in shock. “Whatever do you mean? I will do no such thing.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Everyone saw what happened between you and Reagan, dragging her into your office and then trying to get the girl to do your dry cleaning! Honestly, dear, that isn’t okay. Is that how you treat women? Because, if so, then I know to never expect more grandchildren.”

  “I’m sorry.” I cough and widen my eyes when her words register in my mind. “Wait, what? More grandchildren?” I stammer.

  The idea
of having more children running around scares the living shit out of me. I don’t want Dawson to feel left out or another woman leaving us. Dawson’s the best kid, and I need to keep him safe. Plus, the idea of having a second child, or worse a girl, freaks me the hell out.

  Marriage with the white picket fence isn’t what I want for myself. I don’t do love since it worked out so terribly the first time. I don’t do relationships because they are only one big clusterfuck. All I need is Dawson, my family, and the company to be completely happy and content.

  “Just please mind yourself, and be the man I know you can be. Remember, CEO,” she says in a singsong tone, “Not DICK.” She grins.

  I simply ignore her poke at my continuous need to be the office asshole.

  I excuse myself and walk back to my office. When I look at the time, I see Reagan’s been gone for over twenty minutes.

  How long does it take someone to get coffee?

  I’m sitting at my desk when Reagan walks in nearly forty minutes later, and she hands me a cup.

  “Oh, good. You’re not spilling it on me.”

  “Oh, good. You’re not invading my personal space,” she responds with a sly smile.

  “What took you so long?”

  She shrugs. “I had some things to do after I gave Miranda her coffee.”

  I take a sip from the cup she offered me and notice the smirk on her face.

  “What the hell did you do to my drink?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugs innocently. “Whatever do you mean, Andrew?”

  I stand up from my desk chair and point at her. “I know you did something. Why didn’t you bring me my coffee as soon as you gave Miranda hers? And why are you standing there, smiling like you know something I don’t? I know you did something, and I’ll find out what it was.”

  She leans in closer to me and fixes my tie with her hands. “I think you’re a little paranoid, Mr. Powers. I didn’t do anything to your coffee, and I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. I’m a professional woman. Have a good day, sir.”

  As soon as Reagan’s out of my office, I leave in a hurry and walk toward Remy’s office down the hall.

  “Try this.” I thrust my coffee in his direction.

  “I’m not trying that.”

  “Why?”

  He shakes his head. “Um”—he laughs—“Reagan spit in it, and I’m pretty sure she tossed in a dead spider, bug, or something no longer breathing just for the hell of it, too.”

  I grab the phone on Remy’s desk and dial Security, demanding them to meet me at my mother’s office.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “She’s fired. I don’t fucking care who the hell she is or if she’s my mother’s assistant. We don’t need crazy people like her in this office.”

  Without thinking, I storm out of his office and toward Reagan’s. If she thinks she can get this over on me, she has another thing coming. I’ll fire her ass so fast, she won’t know what hit her. Then, I’ll blackball her with every other company in the city, making it impossible for her to get a decent-paying job within a five-hundred-mile radius of Chicago. She’s done. Gone.

  Security meets me, and I tell them to pack her things and wait to escort her out. I completely ignore the questioning looks on the guards faces because this is my fucking show, not theirs. If I want her out, she is out.

  “Miranda,” I call out as I walk into the office, seeing my mother and Reagan working on the documents on Miranda’s desk. “Get up, Reagan. Security’s waiting for you. You are to be escorted off the premises immediately.”

  “What?” they both say at the same time.

  “You heard me,” I growl. “Remy told me what you did to my coffee.”

  My mother gets up, and I don’t look her way. She can’t fix this with a few kind words. My eyes are steady on Reagan’s, and she’s not moving.

  “Did you hear me?” I demand.

  “You can’t fire me. I told your mother what I did, and I knew Remy was watching me. Don’t tell me to fetch you anything again. I am not a dog, and I deserve respect.”

  “You could’ve killed me!”

  “Killed you? Are you serious? A little overdramatic, aren’t we?”

  “You need to leave and never come back.” I point at the door, still keeping my focus on her.

  “She will do no such thing,” my mother says.

  Reagan and I turn toward her direction.

  “But she—”

  She puts up her hand. “Stop this right now. Drew, I don’t care what happened. I told you to be nice. This is what you get for treating people as if they owe you the world. Disrespectful behavior only gains disrespect in return. Now, leave, and go back to work, or so help me, I will embarrass you in front of the office.”

  “What the fuck?” I mutter. I leave before she treats me more like a damn child.

  However, with each moment that passes, I realize that the anger inside me is fueled by the sexual desire I feel for Reagan. It’s eating away at me with each second, like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  Throughout the day, I can’t get her out of my head. I’m continuously thinking of ways to get back at her. Some things are a little extreme, like super-gluing her office chair so that, when she sits down, she’ll be stuck. Or putting snakes in her office, so when she walks in, she’ll scream and run away. Like I said, extreme and over the top, I know. If I do any of those things, my mother will follow through with her threats. There has to be something I can do to get back at her.

  I’m heading into my next meeting when I enter the conference room and see Reagan bent over.

  Fuck. Me.

  It’s almost impossible to hold back the animalistic growl bubbling inside me. Her round and tight ass is staring at me, taunting me. My cock pushes against my pants, wanting to be well acquainted with her and that sexy body of hers. Not only is her ass in full view, but I also notice her long, tan, and toned legs spilling out from beneath her fitted dress. The navy-blue dress she has on today hugs her perfect curves.

  When she stands up and turns around, my eyes go directly to her perfect set of tits, and almost instantly, my palms twitch with the need to feel her supple breasts beneath them. Everything about her is perfect.

  I have no idea why I’m thinking about her like this—beneath me, clawing my back, screaming my name.

  Shit. She’s my mother’s assistant and off-limits.

  “You’re early,” she says, pulling me out of my fantasy of her in only those heels, lying on her back on the table.

  “I don’t like being late,” I inform her. “It means you’re rude and unprofessional.”

  “Hmm,” is all she says before putting down the folders for today’s meeting.

  Once everyone’s here and Miranda has Frank and Howard on the line, I see Reagan sitting down with her iPad, typing out whatever’s being said. I ignore the pulsing need for her and focus on the meeting.

  When I get home from work, I take Dawson to the local burger shack, so we can pick up our order.

  “How was your day?” he asks while we walk toward the restaurant.

  “Hectic and busy. Grandma yelled at me for not being so nice.”

  “But, Daddy, don’t you always say we have to be nice to others, no matter what?”

  Damn, my son has a point. I should be nice to Reagan.

  “You’re right, Dawson.” I ruffle his hair.

  When we walk inside the sixties-style diner and walk up to the counter, I notice Reagan on the other side. She’s staring ahead while I stare at her.

  12

  Reagan

  Are you kidding me right now? Seriously, what the hell did I do to deserve this continuous torture?

  Not only is this man an arrogant ass, but he’s a stalker, too. First, it was the bar, and now, the diner. Andrew Powers is always in my space.

  All I want is a burger. A big, juicy double cheeseburger with a little bacon, lots of pickles, and mayo. But, no, I'm once again subjected to the prick who
thinks he somehow has some type of control over me and my actions. Like he’s entitled and he deserves my utmost attention. I should be pining for him, following him around like a lost puppy waiting for scraps. I can assure you, that will never happen.

  But, here I am, once again dealing with the man I just want to get as far away from as possible. I can feel his eyes on me, practically burning a hole in my side.

  At first, I decide to ignore him and hope he gets the hint. From what I’ve witnessed, there’s nothing about him that I care to know. Sure, he’s sexy as sin, and I’m sure he could give me multiple orgasms, but there’s more to a man than his sex appeal.

  And I want more.

  “Are you ready to order?”

  I look across the counter at the eager young server who is smiling brightly. My sour mood has my mind conjuring up ways to sneak away, unnoticed, but I know I can’t escape. Out of my peripheral vision, I can see again that Andrew is still staring, only he’s closer now.

  “Do you have any questions?” the young man asks.

  “No,” I say. “I’ll just take a number two to go, please.” I don’t even know what a number two consists of. I just chose a number and went with it. I completely forget to tell the server I want lots of pickles and mayo and no tomatoes.

  Damn Andrew for distracting me.

  “Sure thing!” he says, still smiling brightly.

  “Please rush my order,” I say in an irritated manner, waving him off.

  For the love of all things holy, I’m wound so tight, I feel like, at any moment, I’m going to ignite and shoot straight through the ceiling.

  “You’re even mean to the innocent server.”

  I close my eyes at the sound of Andrew speaking near my ear.

  “You should really learn to be friendlier.”

  “Again, you should learn to respect the personal space of others.” My nostrils flare, but instead of facing him, I continue to stare forward.

  “Why are you so angry all the time?” he asks. “Always ready to bite my head off. Your defenses are up, and you never smile.”