Beg for It Read online

  He’d stopped paying much attention to reports on his assets about two years ago when the numbers had reached a point where they’d become ridiculous, like playing with Monopoly money. Cash could buy and sell a lot of things, but Reese wasn’t naïve enough to believe happiness was one of them. Other things—cars, houses, tailored suits, fine wines. Those could bring at least the briefest interludes of happiness. Very rarely, however, had anything brought him joy.

  Well, fuck joy. He’d given up on that a long time ago. For now it was enough to have the money he wanted to do whatever he pleased. As far as Reese was concerned, Heaven looked a lot like a long, long string of numbers in front of a decimal point.

  Once, Reese’s Heaven had been something else to him, but that had also been a long, long time ago, before he’d become the man he was now. He’d learned to be ruthless. Uncompromising. How to cut a path for himself without caring much for who stood in the way. How to get what he wanted, no matter the cost. Reese had fled Lancaster County at twenty-three, but here he was again, and the gently wafting scent of manure that had drifted through the car windows as he drove had been enough to slam him back into the past and places he’d worked hard to forget.

  Nothing he’d learned, it seemed, had taught him how not to look back.

  “Still waiting? Can I bring you something to drink awhile?” The pretty brunette with the ponytail gestured at Reese’s empty wineglass.

  “Yes. Two glasses of the Rendezvous Orchard Cabernet.”

  “Do you want me to bring it when…she…gets here?” The lilt of the question made it clear she wasn’t sure what to think about the fact Reese might very well be on his way to being stood up. Or maybe she was just surprised that anyone in this rinky-dink town had ordered from a fifty dollar bottle of wine in the middle of the afternoon.

  “No. Now. She’ll be here. She’s just running late, I’m sure.” He didn’t check his watch again.

  He’d been waiting for half an hour. It was unfathomably rude and far from professional, but he couldn’t be surprised. Everything about Stein and Sons had smacked of small-town folksy standards, including handshake contracts and keeping what Reese thought of as country time. His parents had been that way. Languid and leisurely, getting there when they got there, wherever there was. And for his parents, it had never been very far.

  She would be here. She had to be. He’d come all the way from Philadelphia. He’d had his personal assistant, Tony, confirm and reconfirm the meeting. She was going to show up.

  Corinne Barton Levy, CFO of Stein and Sons.

  Reese had been casually scrolling through one of the weekly emails he got from a service that collated information on companies ripe for buyout when he saw her name, and the past fifteen years had given him a roundhouse kick to the teeth. It would’ve be a lie to say he’d never thought of her in all that time; the truth was he’d never stopped thinking about the only woman to ever get him on his knees. Without a second thought, he’d forwarded the information to Tony with instructions on making an offer.

  He’d known he was being a prick about it. The offer wasn’t half of what Stein and Sons was worth, even if Reese acquired it only for the assets and never even tried to turn it around. He’d made the terms too harsh for the minimal buyout amount to be worth it, a virtual slap in the face, purposefully insulting. Yet they’d asked him for this meeting, which meant they were seriously considering his offer.

  What would he do if they decided to take him up on it?

  A small craft dairy company? Why the hell would he ever want to go back to where he started? He didn’t even drink milk. He hated yogurt. And lavender ice cream…well, that just seemed like it would taste like shit.

  He’d worry about that when it happened. He’d made worse deals without knowing it up front. Heading into something like this wouldn’t give him more than a day’s headache. He could pick it up and put it down in the span of a few weeks, especially if he simply liquidated everything, which, from a business standpoint, would make more sense than trying to make it successful.

  The truth was, none of this was about the company at all. It was all about her. Unless she didn’t show, Reese thought, and wouldn’t that end up being an ironic boot to the ass?

  Another five minutes ticked by before the girl brought back the glasses of wine, and Reese still sat alone at the table. He checked his phone for messages, but there were no texts, voicemails, or emails. Damn it, were they sending their cancellation by Pony Express? He stood, ready to ask for the check and walk out without waiting another minute. Screw Stein and Sons and Lancaster County. He was out of here.

  “Sorry, so sorry,” a feminine voice said, her words a rush, her tone sincere. The woman in front of him shook her head and put a hand on the back of the chair on the other side of the table. “I got stuck behind a buggy and there were a lot of looky-loos out today. I’m so sorry I’m late…”

  Her voice trailed off as she looked up at him with those big, blue eyes rimmed with thick, dark lashes. She blinked rapidly, before her gaze went as sharp and focused as a finely honed knife. She straightened, all vestiges of apology disappearing and replaced by a familiar haughtiness that in the past would’ve tempted him to turn the tables and beg her pardon, but Reese stifled that urge neatly, like closing a book. He’d had years of practice, after all.

  “Hello, Corinne,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

  For a moment he was sure she was going to tell him to get bent, then stalk off. Maybe, he thought suddenly, terribly, unwillingly, maybe she’d slap his face first. He didn’t take a step back, though he wanted to.

  Corinne didn’t leave, and she didn’t slap him. To his surprise, she moved to embrace him, a second or so only, the press of her cheek on his. He breathed her in, blinking at the brief caress of her hair on his face before there was space and distance between them again. His cock was already almost fully hard.

  “Reese, my God,” she said. “How are you? What a wonderful surprise.”

  A second later she was in his arms again, like she couldn’t stop herself from hugging him, and all he wanted to do was pull her closer and never let her go. Instead, Reese took her by the upper arms and pushed her carefully but firmly a step or two away from him. It was impossible to miss the way her mouth turned down, though she smoothed her expression immediately. They stared at each other in an endless silence.

  “They told me I was meeting with a guy named Tony Randolph,” Corinne said finally.

  “He’s my assistant,” Reese told her. “But I decided to show up, myself.”

  Corinne took a seat at the table. She looked at the two glasses of wine, then him. She took her napkin from her plate and settled it on her lap.

  “I hear you have an offer for us,” she said. “I suppose we should discuss it.”

  Chapter Five

  Before

  “Sit down.”

  The woman in the dark blue uniform is no-nonsense, a little frazzled. More than a little annoyed, Reese thinks, by their boisterous group. His friends chuckle and shuffle, edging into the diner booth, but at her command, Reese immediately complies. His ass finds the chair settled at the edge of the table. His heart pounds.

  His dick leaps.

  She doesn’t even pay attention to him as she puts a handful of napkin-wrapped utensils in the center of the table, along with an equal number of menus. He’s glad for that, because that means he can look at her surreptitiously without having to pretend he’s not fascinated by her. This woman, the waitress, her name is Corinne, and she’s almost always here in the late night hours when he and his friends leave the club and end up craving breakfast. She knows them all, by sight at least, which is why it’s okay with everyone that she bosses them around like this.

  It’s especially okay with Reese, who would never admit aloud to any of the other guys that when he jacks off, it’s to the sound of this woman’s voice commanding him to stroke harder. Faster. Telling him to beg her to let him come.

  �€