Rush

We'd arrived back at Sinclair's office and he had immediately pulled me in, placing his hands all over my body. He placed his lips to my neck and trailed up to my ear where his shallow breathing felt wrong yet desirable at the same time. As ridiculous as this man is sometimes, he sure knows how to send shivers down my spine.

What am I saying? I mentally scolded myself for being so ridiculous. I don't like Sinclair, but his endless sex drive and full wallet happened to appeal to me.

'Who's the gold digger now?'

He seperated his lips from my neck and stroked my jaw with his thumb, "Something wrong?" He asked looking down at me with crystal eyes clouded with lust.

I cleared my throat, "Not at all. I mean it's just, well, you were all over me the whole drive here. Shouldn't we turn it down a little bit, before one of your employees catches us?"

"I can't help myself when you look so fucking hot." He smirked and reached behind my neck to loosen the tie on my halter neck dress. He connected his lips to mine once more and trailed his fingers softly down the length of my back. I shuddered involuntarily, willing myself to open my eyes and push against his chest softly. He took it entirely the wrong way, though, tightening his hold on my neck and pushing his hips fully against me.

"Charlie please," I nearly moaned stepping out of his grasp. "Later, I promise."

If there was one thing Charles Sinclair did not like, it was being denied. His eyes became dark, menacing almost, as he narrowed them at me before pushing me away. "Fine. Go down the the mail room and get my fucking paperwork." He spat, not looking up at me.

Fucking moody bastard. Two can play at this game.

I turned on one heel, making my exit and slammed his door shut. I wasn't exactly familiar with his office building yet, considering most of the work I've been doing has been at his house. I did figure out, however, that at the end of the hallway on every floor was a receptionist who could tell you the entire building directory if needed.

I made my way to the desk, occasionally glancing in every open window seeing long, square tables with men in suits gathered around.

I made my way up to the receptionist desk, batting my lashes when she looked up from her stack of papers.

"Can you tell me where the mail room is? Mr. Sinclair would like his paperwork."

"Floor 15, right hallway, third door to the end on the left." She spoke curtly, as if my presence was bugging her.

"Wait, right hallway to the wha-"

"Goodbye." She flicked her hand and shooed me like an annoying child.

Well, bitch.

I made my way to the elevator, stepping in just before it could close.

"What floor will it be, gorgeous."

"Fifteen." I replied, turning to smile at the gentleman asking. I stopped in my tracks when I slightly recognized his dorky glasses but couldn't quite place where I'd seen him before.

"Call it fate...I believe we've met before." His lips twitched upward ghosting a smile.

"Have we? I don't think I know you."

"Well in that case, you now know me as Dean. Dean Clark."

If we were going off of first impressions, I had to admit that Dean was actually quite cute. He seemed fairly young, around 24 or 25, like myself, and slightly quirky. His posture didn't show him to be dominating, and his suit was too amateur to belong to a leader in big business.

As I scrutinized him his eyes captured my line of sight, "Are you checking me out?" He laughed.

I raised my eyebrows, "You wish, honey."

"I do, actually. And I have the pleasure of calling you...?"

The elavator dinged to my floor and quickly I stepped out, swaying my hips a bit just to tease him. "You don't."

I continued down the rest of the hallway making the first....right...I think, toward the mail room. Fuck, where did she say to turn? I kept walking until I reached the end of the hallway with only two doors.
I opened the one on the right, surprised at finding Sinclair's son leaning over Reagan who was sprawled out on the couch. Way to go Reagan! Finally, doing the smart thing and taking my advice for once!

I couldn't help put laugh a little, "Well, well, well, what do we have here!"

They split apart almost instantly to opposite sides of the couch. Reagan coughed awkwardly shooting me a look.

"Calm down you two, it's not like I'm gonna tell."

"There's nothing to tell. I was just—Hazel and I were-" Gabe stumbled over his words not being able to come up with a good excuse.

"Just what, Gabe? Hmm?" I smiled. It was entertaining to see him try and come up with a reasonable excuse.

"Spencer, why are you in here?" Reagan cut in before he could say anything.

"Well I was looking for the mail room...but I've obviously interrupted something far more interesting." I winked at her.
Reagan rolled her eyes and nudged past me motioning for Gabe to getup and follow.

"Spencer, next time you barge into someone's office you should probably try knocking first." Gabe winked and clicked his tongue at me.

"Gabe, next time you try to jump somebody's bones, perhaps you should lock your door." I countered, smirking suggestively at the two of them. "Oh, and your father expects your presence at his meeting back at the estate. 8 o'clock. Don't be late."

➢➢➢

By the time 8 o'clock rolled around, I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of Charles' Porsche while he hit 90 mph down a back street heading up to his estate. I really had no intentions of dying today, but driving reckless made him a lot less angry so I kept my mouth shut. However, after a minute or so I couldn't take the tension.

"Are you still mad at me?"

"I'm not mad." He grumbled, stepping on the gas even harder.

"Bullshit."

"Fine, I was a little mad. No one has ever denied me like that. I always get what I want, Ms. Fox."

"And what do you want now, Mr. Sinclair?" He didn't reply, instead resting one of his hands on my inner thigh.

"Do you now?" I quirked my eyebrow slightly.

We pulled up into the Sinclair Estate driveway when he quickly threw the vehicle in park. He climbed out of his side and smoothly made his way to my side of the car, grabbing my hand to gently pull me out. I was about to thank him, but when he flipped me so that my front was leaning against the hood I was at a loss for words.

"Yes, and I want you right here...first. Don't forget, Ms. Fox, I always get what I want." He murmured into my ear, making me tip my head back into his embrace. Ugh, what a hot, horny, bastard. He gave me a little spank before turning to enter the front door.

"As do I, Charles. Just you wait." I muttered to myself.

Stepping inside, I desperately wished I could escape to my room instead of enduring the boring events to come. I noticed Mrs. Sinclair standing in the corner of the room making small talk with some head executives. She flipped her hair and touched their shoulders as if she honestly gave a shit what they were talking about.

"So, this is the third time we've met. And, as they say, third times a charm." A smooth voice spoke from behind me, inturrupting my observations. I squeezed my lips together trying to conceal a smile and turned to meet the bright eyes of the man I met in the elevator.

"Jesus, you're everywhere." I rolled my eyes.

"I believe this might actually be the heavens pushing us together. You know," he leaned in close to me, "it might be best not to piss off the heavens. Eternal damnation, seven years of bad luck...you know, all of that nonsense."

I giggled covering my mouth with my hand causing him to smile brightly. "Ah, she smiles."

"Shut up." I grumbled turning away, like a child. Okay, so he's funny and cute....I don't care. My face turned slightly hot from even thinking that.

"Are you blushing?" He raised his eyebrows, smiling a bit. Fuck. Seriously, I'm blushing? Oh no. No no no. Jamie does not get all blushy from some guy that she doesn't even know. I huffed, trying to compose myself.

"I'm not fucking blushing!" I snapped, causing some people to turn their heads in our direction.

He held his hands up in defeat, still smiling, and I sulked my way over to Reagan. Eveveryone was out of ear-shot once the meeting was about to start so I pulled her aside into a hallway.

"Hey, I have a plan." I whispered, looking around to make sure none of the house staff was around. Once the coast was clear, I pulled Reagan with me along the empty halls until we reached the west corridor of the property.

"Where are we going?" She asked, shifting her weight on each foot. I could tell she was a little nervous to be anywhere in this house but I wanted her to see that there was a reason behind my madness.

"We," I looked both ways before unlocking a door that looked to be no bigger than a closet, "are going to Charles' study to do a bit of....research."

"How did you get a key to his study? Wait...don't answer that because I really don't want to know." She shuddered briefly, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Oh ha ha very funny, sis. I'm not a whore, you know. Somethings in life you can just ask and you shall receive."

"You aren't a whore, you're just sleeping with a married man. Right. Makes perfect sense! Thank you for clearing that one up." She looked at me pursing her lips slightly.

"I haven't fucking fucked him yet! Christ Reagan, give me a little more credit than that!"

She gave me a look that said 'really?' And I smirked a bit, "Okay we did it once, but that's all, I swear. It kind of hurts that you think I just fuck my way through life. I have morals too."

I wasn't lying. Reagan clearly has so much potential in life, she's young and talented, smart as hell too. To be quite honest, I was pretty jealous of her most of the time. I feel like my body is the only thing I have to offer because it's clear that she holds most of the intelligence between the two of us.

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I just....I don't know. So, what exactly are we looking for?" She walked over to a few papers on the desk, lifting them up, and shuffling through them.

"Well...I'm not really sure. But if you find something personal on him just let me know." I shuffled through some cabinets against the wall while Reagan took care of the desk.

"Is a prescription bottle of Lamictal juicy enough for you?" Shaking the bottle a bit, she held it out for me then continued looking.

What the hell? I turned the bottle over in my hands to find its use. "Take 3 Lamictal a day to temporarily relieve manic episodes. So he has anger problems?" I clicked my tongue, Hm figures. Now it made sense why he seemed more pissed off than usual this morning.

"I think it's more than a little problem, this paper says that he was put in a holding cell for 48 hours due to a domestic dispute with..." Reagan trailed off mid sentence.

"A dispute with who?"

Seeming to find her voice again, she continued, "A domestic dispute with Angelica Mardonis and Gabriel Sinclair."

"Who the hell is Angelica Mardonis?" I snatched the paper from Reagan studying it closely.

"Well I don't see how that's any of your god damn business." Mrs. Sinclair stood at the door, glaring at the two of us.

Shit.