To: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
From: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
Subject: Tonight
Charlotte,
I will be at your apartment at 7 p.m. to talk.
Max
To: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
From: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
Re: Tonight
I won’t be here.
To: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
From: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
Re: Tonight
Charlotte,
Where will you be? You didn’t say you had other plans. You can see your friends tomorrow. Tonight we need to chat.
Max
To: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
From: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
Re: Tonight
Dear Bossyboots,
I love that you assume that the only people I could have plans with are my friends. I have a hot date coming over. I think you know what for, or do I have to spell it out for you? Let’s just say my panties are wet just thinking about it. I will see you tomorrow.
Charlotte “in for a good time tonight” Johnson
To: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
From: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
Re: Tonight
Dear Can Your Panties Be Wet If You Don’t Wear Them,
Bullshit. I’ll be over in thirty minutes.
Max, your de facto boss
To: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
From: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
Re: Tonight
Dear Max,
How many women can you have in one night?
Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT come over to my house tonight.
Charlotte “Do crotchless panties count as panties” Johnson
To: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
From: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
Re: Tonight
Are you trying to make me hard?
To: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
From: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
Re: Tonight
It doesn’t seem that hard. Pun intended.
To: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
From: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
Re: Tonight
I need to put you across my lap and spank you.
To: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
From: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
Re: Tonight
Figures you would be into that kinky shit. Next thing you’ll be wanting to gag me and use handcuffs.
To: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
From: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
Re: Tonight
Don’t tempt me. I’d love to gag you. And then slap that pert bottom of yours. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
To: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
From: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
Re: Tonight
I told you not to come over. What if I wanted to slap that rock hard butt of yours?
To: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
From: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
Re: Tonight
Another body part of mine is rock hard right now. Want a photo?
To: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
From: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
Re: Tonight
No thanks. I’ve seen enough pencils in my life.
To: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
From: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
Re: Tonight
That sounds like a challenge. Three minutes away.
To: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
From: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
Re: Tonight
Not a good idea for you to come over right now. Also, why don’t you text like a regular human being?
To: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
From: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
Re: Tonight
Is that your way of asking for a dick pic?
To: MaxParkerCEO@Parkercorporation.com
From: ArtyCharlotteJohnson@Gmail.com
Re: Tonight
Bye, Max. I will see you tomorrow.
I rolled my eyes as I closed out of my email. I leaned back on my couch and rubbed my eyes. I was feeling a little hot and bothered after that exchange. Okay, if I’m being honest, I was feeling a lot hot and bothered. Max had a way of getting under my skin that no man ever had before in my life.
Was he really coming over? It made no sense for him to come over, especially if he’d arranged for someone else to go over to his place that night. He was just trying to get a rise out of me; I was almost positive. I knew men well enough to know that they loved to egg women on. I could remember Brandon doing that to me all the time. Trying to trick me into being upset with him, so that he could surprise me and make me happy. Like that time when he’d pretended he’d forgotten my birthday and then I found out he’d gotten me a copy of the Articles of Confederation as a present. I’d been so sad and then so happy.
“I’d never forget, Charlotte,” he’d whispered into my ear before giving me a big hug. “You know that.” He’d brushed my hair back and smiled at me with such love that I’d just grinned back at him. I had been closer to him than anyone else in my life, and even though he’d been five years older than me, we’d never really noticed the age difference. When we were together, we were just us.
I jumped up and walked over to my bookshelf and looked through my books for the copy of Huckleberry Finn that he’d given me. I opened it to the title page and read the quote he’d taken from the book and written down:
To my love Char Bear,
“What’s the use you learning to do right when it’s troublesome to do right and ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same?”
Live your life to its fullest potential and don’t let anything hold you back.
Love Always,
Brandon XOXO
“Oh, Brandon.” I held the book to my heart as tears threatened to fall. Why was it still so hard? Why was he always on my mind? I missed him. I missed being with him. Even though he’d lied to me. Even though he’d left me. I still remembered the good times, and I still wished things were different.
Beep beep.
Someone was texting me. I walked back over to the couch, placed the book on the coffee table, and grabbed my phone.
Max: You didn’t answer my last email, so I assume you want to text instead.
Charlotte: Max, I told you I’m busy.
Max: Do you want that photo from me?
Charlotte: Send it.
Max: What?
Charlotte: That’s what I thought. All talk and no show.
Max: Here you go . . . {click to view attachment]
Charlotte: That’s your face . . . not your cock.
Max: Show me your breasts first.
Charlotte: I’m not showing you anything. You’re the one who offered me a pic.
Max: Ok, here you go . . . [click to view attachment]
Charlotte: Whoa, you nearly had me for a second, that’s your thumb.
Max: Ha ha, smart girl. I thought that would have fooled ya.
Charlotte: I wasn’t born yesterday.
Max: I’m outside your door.
Charlotte: What?
Max: I’m outside your door. Open up.
Charlotte: You didn’t knock.
Max: I didn’t want to scare you.
Charlotte: Max, I told you that this wasn’t a good time.
Max: I guess I’m calling your bluff.
Charlotte: Max.
Max: Open the God Damn door, Charlotte.
Charlotte: Fine. I’m coming.
Max: That’s what she said.
“You’re so immature,” I said as I opened the door. Max walked into my apartment, a huge grin on his face. “You’re rude as well. I told you that I have plans tonight.”
“Those plans will have to change.” He looked around my small apartment. “Is this a studio?” I nodded and I watched as he made his way over to my window with the view of Central Park. “It’s cute. Small, but cute.”
“Is that what women say about you and your . . .” My voice trailed off and I looked down at his pants.
“You wish.” He threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t get any complaints.”
“I’m sure Sandy is excited.”
“Sandy?” He said her name and then grinned. “Are you jealous?”
“Jealous of what?”
“My fuck buddy.”
“Crude.” I shook my head, but I knew my face was going red. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure, I’ll take a whiskey.”
“I don’t have whiskey.”
“A gin and tonic?”
“Nope.” I shook my head again.
“An IPA?”
“Nope.”
“What do you have, then, Charlotte?”
“I have two apple ciders, a bottle of red wine, water, chocolate milk . . . oh, and some ginger ale.”
“I see.” He paused. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Is that the first time in the world those words have ever been spoken by you?” I stared at him with widened eyes, pretending to be shocked. “I’m sure many people haven’t heard you say you were fine before.”
“Is that what you’re wearing on your supposed date?” He looked me up and down and I could see a sly smile on his face as he took in my oversized Columbia sweater and gym shorts. His eyes went down and stayed on the red and white striped socks I was wearing, and I could tell that he was trying not to laugh. Asshole.
“Anything wrong with my attire?” I held my head straight up in the air and looked at him through narrowed eyes.
“No, it’s very sexy,” he said with a smirk. “I know I’d be down to hook up with a woman in fox socks.”
“Good to know.” I walked over to him. “How can I help you, Max? What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” I reached up and undid my ponytail and shook my hair down my back. I could see his eyes focus on my hair and then on my lips, and so I pulled off my sweater and threw it onto the couch. His eyes fell to my chest area now, and I heard a sudden intake of breath. I was wearing a loose-fitting white T-shirt with a V-neck and no bra underneath. I was pretty sure that he could see my hardened nipples poking through the top.
“I thought we should discuss what’s expected of you in your role as my fiancée. And well I thought we could get to know each other better.”
“Oh, I see.” I placed my hand on his chest and slowly started undoing the buttons to his shirt. It was like some other being had taken over me, but I wanted to see his body. “Well, let’s get this party started, then.”
“I didn’t mean in the Biblical sense,” he said, though he didn’t stop me from unbuttoning his shirt. “I meant we should learn about each other's personalities and all that good stuff.” His breath caught as I pulled his shirt out of his jeans and stared at his naked chest. It was absolute perfection. His skin was a tanned golden brown with a light smattering of dark hair across his pecs. His six-pack was taut and smooth, and I ran my fingers across his skin. “Unless, of course, you had other ideas.”
“No,” I said quickly and pulled my hand back. “I was just curious.” I licked my lips and walked back to the couch and sat down. “What do you want to know?”
“Can I pull your shirt off as well?” he asked as he followed me to the couch and sat next to me.
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s unfair that you got to touch my stomach and I didn’t get to touch yours.”
“Well, we can fix that right now.” I grabbed his hand and placed it under my shirt and on my stomach. I didn’t have a six-pack, or abs at all, really, but I liked my body, even though I could have stood to lose about twenty pounds.
His fingers ran across my stomach and played with my belly button, and I enjoyed the warm, firm touch of his skin against mine. My hand dropped away as he moved his hand higher, closer to my breasts, my heart racing as his fingers traced up the valley between them. Our eyes connected, and I could see a question in his gaze. His hand stilled and he cocked his head to the side slightly. He wanted to know if it was okay to go farther. I was momentarily surprised by that. But then I reached over and kissed him on the lips slightly and he grinned. His hands found my breasts, and he cupped them in his palms, squeezing my nipples and rubbing his palm against them roughly. I pushed him onto the couch and fell forward on top of him and he adjusted his body so that I was lying to the side of him. His right hand then ran back down my stomach toward my shorts and then inside of my shorts toward the top of my panties.
“Liar,” he whispered as his fingers worked their way in between my legs and he rubbed gently on the material.
“What?” I said innocently as I ran my hands down his back.
“You are wearing panties, and they aren’t crotchless.” His voice was hoarse as his lips found the side of my neck and he rubbed against my clit. My fingers found their way to the front of his pants and I rubbed his hardness, smiling as I felt it twitching in his pants. His fingers then slipped into the side of my panties, and I felt him touching me softly. I moaned at the feel of him and arched my back, pressing my breasts against him. He groaned as I fumbled with his belt buckle and tried to undo his pants.
“You’re wet for me, aren’t you?” he whispered in my ear, the desire in his voice clear. I nodded and almost whined as he removed his finger from my panties and pulled my them off quickly. My breasts were now on display for him, and he whistled as he stared at my chest. He leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth and I cried out as I felt his teeth biting down lightly.
Knock, knock!
The sound of knocking on my door made us both jump.
“You weren’t kidding?” His eyes narrowed as he stared at me in shock. I grabbed my shirt and pulled it back on quickly.
“Kidding about what?”
“You have another man coming over to fuck you?” He looked pissed off, and I almost laughed at his furious expression.
“No, I don’t know—”
I walked toward my front door. I had absolutely no idea who was here. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I hadn’t had sex in over a year, so there was certainly no booty call showing up to pleasure me. I readjusted my shirt and shorts and then opened the door.
“Charlotte, there you are!” Anabel beamed at me as she gave me a quick hug. “Emily told me she met you for coffee and that you were going to sign some crazy contract and I wanted to make sure you were okay because you haven’t been answering your phone . . .”
The sound of Max standing up alerted her to the fact that we weren’t alone. Her gaze shifted and her eyes opened. “Oh,” she said softly and looked back at me, a certain gleeful expression in her eyes. “Am I disturbing something?”
“No,” I said quickly.
“Yes,” Max said as he approached us. “Charlotte was just packing up some stuff so that she can come home with me tonight.”
“What?” I said and blinked at him. “No, I’m not.”
“It’s going to make everything a lot easier if you stay at my place for the next two months,” he said, his tone once again bossy. “You will have your own suite of rooms, don’t worry about that.”
“It’s unreasonable for you to think that I can just come and stay with you,” I said, annoyed. “Don’t you think so, Anabel?”
“Well, I . . . yes, in a way,” she said with a slight nod. “Though, I suppose if you’re to be a believable fiancée, you would live with him.”
“Anabel!” I scolded her. “How can you take his side?”
“I’m just saying, is all.” She shrugged and then grinned. “I should go. I didn’t realize you guys were busy.”
“We’re not busy,” I growled at her. “Come inside.”
“Your T-shirt is not on properly.” She giggled and gave me a quick hug. “Just have some fun and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.” She leaned back. “Good seeing you, Max,” she said with a small nod. “I hope we get to know each other better.”
“I’m sure we will,” he said with a small smile. “Good seeing you again, Anabel.”
“You, too.” She turned around and walked back out of the door. “Bye, guys.” And with that she was gone.
I turned to Max to tell him off, but he was walking back to the couch and toward my bookshelf.
“You have a wide variety of books.”
“I come from a family of readers.” I nodded. “My dad loves sci-fi, my mom loves romance, and my brother loved classics.”
“And you love them all.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” I stood next to him. “You can’t change the subject, you know. I’m not coming to stay at your apartment.”
“Penthouse suite.”
“What?”
“I wouldn’t say I live in an apartment. I’d say I live in a penthouse suite.”
“Fine, Max. I’m not coming to stay in your penthouse suite.”
“I think you’ll find you will.” He bent down and picked up the copy of Huckleberry Finn that was on my coffee table. “I loved this book as a boy. I can’t believe they banned it from schools.”
“Some schools banned Harry Potter as well,” I said with a shrug. “Can’t let schools dictate what you read.”
“Are you reading it now?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I was just looking at it. To . . . see something.”
“Cool, cool.” He placed the book back down on the table and looked at the maps over my living room couch. “These are, um, interesting. You have a fascination with Africa?” He looked at me curiously as he pointed at the huge poster of the map of Africa.
“I don’t know if I would call it a fascination, per se. I studied history in undergrad, with a minor focus on African history.”
“You don’t say.” He looked impressed. “What do these colors on the map indicate?”
“Have you ever heard of the partition of Africa?”
“Can’t say that I have.” He shook his head.
“It was also known as the scramble for Africa.”
“Like scrambled eggs?”
“Very funny.” I rolled my eyes. “No, in 1884, there was a conference known as the Berlin Conference. The conference was held by Otto Von Bismarck. He was the first chancellor of Germany, if you didn’t know.”
“I can quite honestly say that I didn’t know that.”
“Well, essentially he and other European leaders met up and decided which countries in Africa each of them were going to get.”
“Going to get?” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean they were picking which countries they were going to colonize.” I could hear myself getting heated. “Imperialism at its best.”
“You sound like you’re getting angry.” He surveyed my face. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m just passionate about history and how greed has affected so many people in the world. And yet, so many people have no idea.”
“I get it.” His lips thinned. “I learned things when I was in Afghanistan that I never would have guessed or known about.”
“Yeah, I bet.” I looked away then. “War zones aren’t a great place to be.”
“No, they’re not.” He reached forward and grabbed my hands. “Do you know anyone else who’s been in the military?”
“Yeah.” I looked away from him. “I do. Or I did.”
“Oh?”
“He was stationed in Iraq for a couple of years and then in Afghanistan.”
“Air Force?”
“No, Army.” I started humming.
“The Army song?” He looked surprised. “You know it.”
“First to fight for the right,
And to build the Nation’s might,
And The Army goes rolling along
Proud of all we have done,
Fighting till the battle’s won,
And the Army Goes Rolling Along,” I sang.
Max looked impressed. I felt slightly embarrassed to have gotten so caught up in the singing of the song.
“I don’t know many civilians that know that song.”
“My brother was Army,” I said. “He taught it to me.”
“Is he still in the army, then?”
“No.” I didn’t offer any other information. He seemed to understand that I didn’t want to continue this line of conversation because he changed the subject.
“I deposited the first half of your money into your account this afternoon. I hope that helps,” he said then walked back over to my bookshelf to look at the books.
“It does,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Why was it so important to you?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I like to send care packages to the soldiers for Christmas.” I looked down at my hands. “Nothing crazy, but the bare necessities and some little treats. I didn’t think I’d have the money this year because someone got me fired.”
“That someone being me?” He made a face. “I didn’t know you sent care packages as well.”
“What do you mean ‘as well’?” I asked as I looked at his face. “As well as what?”
“I just meant I didn’t know that you sent care packages to soldiers. That’s nice.” He turned away from me. “It means a lot to the guys. I know it meant a lot to me.”
“I suppose your family must have sent you a lot of packages and stuff.”
“Actually, no. They never sent me a package. Not once. I never received any letters either.”
“Oh, wow.” I felt sad for him. “Not once?”
“Not once.” He turned around then and gave me a melancholy smile. “I suppose you can say that us billionaires don’t have it all, after all.”
“I never said you had it all.” I tried to smile, but I felt sad for him. “I don’t think money solves all problems, if that’s what you mean. I don’t have much money, but I don’t think it’s the be-all and end-all of the world.”
“Even though it gets you vintage Chanel handbags?” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“I mean, vintage Chanel handbags are cute, and I love fashionable things, but I don’t need them, need them.” I walked over to him and touched the side of his face. “I don’t really know you, and I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m not all about money. I’m sorry. Sincerely sorry for using your name to benefit monetarily.” I paused. “I truly didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I know.” His face was expressionless as he stared at me. “How are you single?”
“What do you mean?” My eyes narrowed at him.
“You’re a beautiful lady. A good person, from what I can tell. Why are you still single?”
“Why are you still single?”
“Deflecting the question, huh?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ve experienced loss. Heartbreak. It’s hard to bounce back from that.”
“I understand.” He stared into my eyes. “You still taking guitar lessons?”
“Guitar lessons?” I blinked at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you say that you used to play guitar?”
I froze for a few seconds, trying to remember if I’d mentioned that.
“No, I never said that.” I shook my head. “I mean, I took a few classes in college. I wasn’t good.” I laughed then. “In fact, I was awful. The only people who know I took classes are Anabel and Emily. And the instructor.”
And Brandon, of course. But I wasn’t going to talk to him about Brandon.
My eyes narrowed at him. “How did you know?”
“Maybe it came up when I did my research on you?” He shrugged. “I had to learn more about you before I decided if I was going to sue you or see if we could come to some sort of arrangement.”
“I suppose.” I nodded. “I guess I did have that one video on YouTube of me trying to play ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis.” I cringed. “I knew I should have deleted that video.”
“I’d love to see it.”
“Oh hell, no.” I laughed and shook my head. “I don’t want anyone to watch that.”
“I play the guitar.” He smiled. “I could teach you some songs.”
“Aww, I didn’t know you played.”
“Yeah, you’re getting to know the real me.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him. “Not many people know the real Max Parker.”
“Why’s that?” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I couldn’t even find any photos of you online. Just one of you in college on the swim team or something.”
“I don’t like photos of me circulating.” His expression grew shuttered. “The press knows not to publish any if they want to attend my press conferences, and I have friends at Google who’ve been good about deleting random pics that show up.”
“But why do you care?”
“When you’re rich, you become a target.” He lightly kissed the tip of my nose. “It’s easier for me to get around the city and the world without being accosted.”
“I see.” Though I didn’t really. “You’re not who I thought you were.”
“And you’re exactly who I thought you were.”
“What does that mean?” I frowned.
“Nothing bad.” He let out a deep sigh. “Life is funny, isn’t it?”
“In what way?” I ran my hands down his chest before leaning my body into his. “Are you going to tell me what you mean?”
“I don’t know if I should.” His hands moved around my waist and ventured down to my ass. He squeezed my butt cheeks and moved me into him so that I could feel his hardness next to my stomach. “I want you so badly, Charlotte. I want to feel myself inside of you. I want to feel you on top of me. I want to feel your warm breath on my cock. I want to taste you. I want to lick up your juices. I want to hear you shouting out my name.” He groaned loudly, his fingers creeping up the inside of my shirt and cupping my breasts again. “But we can’t play these games.”
“What games?” I whispered as I reached down and unbuckled his belt. It came apart easily now that I had better access. I undid his top button and reached my hands down his pants and into his boxer shorts. “I don’t play games.” My fingers found his cock and I squeezed gently as I ran my fingers down the length of his shaft. His whole body stiffened. “I want to taste you as well, Max. I want to make you come with my mouth and I want to hear you begging me to finish the job.”
“Charlotte,” he groaned, and I felt his body shudder slightly. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“Because this isn’t the reason I reached out to you.” He shook his head. “You want true love. You want a man that can give you everything you want.”
“You don’t know what I want.” I moved my hand from out of his pants. “Maybe I just want to have some fun.”
“Why did you agree to be my fiancée?” he asked me softly as he took a step away from me.
“Because I owed you.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“What would be another reason?”
“I don’t know. Nothing else, I guess.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry I bought Sally’s company and fired you. I didn’t know you were that—” He stumbled over the words to say and I cut him off.
“Destitute?”
“Yes. Well, no, but you know.” He made a face. “I do care about people.”
“More than profits.”
“Profits are important.”
“Not more than people, though.” I shook my head.
“Not more than you, no,” he said softly.
I just stared at him, not knowing how to respond. What did he mean by that? He was confusing the hell out of me. The way he talked to me. The way he talked about me. The way he looked at me. Everything seemed so familiar. And yet, until a couple of days ago, I’d never met him before. Never even heard of him. Why did I feel so comfortable with him?
“What’s that?” I asked as he moved suddenly and I saw a scar on the side of his abdomen that went all the way to his back. I reached out to touch it, but he pulled away from me.
“Just an old scar,” he said and buttoned up his shirt. “Nothing much.”
“Okay,” I said, not wanting to push it further. He was clearly uncomfortable talking about it anymore. “Soooo, what’s next? I’m fine with the contract as is. I’m ready to sign it.”
“Good.” He pulled out his phone. “Let’s go back to my place, and then we can figure everything else out.”
“Everything else like what?”
“Like if we’re going to make this sexual or not,” he said in a deadpan voice.
“You literally just told me you don’t want to go there with me. Are you bipolar?” I stared at him. “You’re going to give me whiplash.”
“Sorry, this is confusing.” He looked at his watch. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready. Then let’s go back to my place, and we can chat over dinner.”
“Okay,” I said, not even bothering to argue at this point. I wanted to get to know him better as well, and if I was going to be his fake fiancée, then there was a lot I needed to know about him.