Read Online Caught Up In You (Edgeplay Part 2) by Jenna McCormick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenna McCormick
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my day to day life. How many people ever manage that?
Connor exits the bedroom just as I finish braiding my wet hair. He isn’t even looking at me as he types a text message on his phone. “You ready?”
My dress, shoes and underwear from the night before are in the shopping bag, as well as my clutch containing his check, my phone and twenty seven dollars, all the cash I have. “What about that?” I nod to the dishes still sitting on the patio.
“I have staff to clean up.” He stows his phone and gestures toward the front door.
Considering I’m part of that staff, his answer rankles. Just leave it, the help will get it. Casting him a sour look, I open the sliding glass door and stalk to the table where I start stacking dishes. Connor watches silently as I scrape the remains of the delicious breakfast into the trash and load the dishwasher. When the task is complete I dry my hands on a dishtowel and turn to him. “You should learn to clean up your own messes.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he says levelly.
Great, I’ve gone from being his most cherished possession to a mess he’s forced to deal with in a burst of latex. Was I really naive enough to hope for a happy ending here? My anger deflates and my shoulders sag as we exit through the garage.
I’m surprised to see men wearing Connor’s black security detail uniform appear on either side of us. “Did they sleep in the car all night?”
“I own every house on the street.”
No wonder the strip of beach was virtually deserted. “Any particular reason?” I don’t know what compels me to ask, because the last thing I want is to make small talk with him, give him another chance to gut me.
There is an SUV with blackout windows idling at the curb. One of the security guards opens the rear door for us and Connor places his hand on the small of my back as I climb inside. Once we’re secured inside the car, the driver pulls away from the curb. “Privacy, for one thing. The people I gift those houses to have proven themselves loyal employees.”
“So a house in the Hamptons is part of your corporate pension plan?”
“Not for everyone,” he murmurs. The phone reappears and his brow crinkles as he reads something on the small screen.
I stare out the window, not surprised when fat drops of water spatter against the windshield. The rain suits my mood. I don’t want to make a scene in front of his people but I need to tell Connor it’s over. I can’t be with a man who blatantly disregards my feelings about something as personal what sort of birth control I take. The only reason I’m going along with this is that I really don’t want to risk a pregnancy. If he’d just taken a little bit of time to calm down and talk to me instead of ordering me to be seen to like some problem, maybe I wouldn’t be so set in my resolve to end it. I would have gone to see my own doctor at home for a morning after pill and discussed other methods of birth control. But his overbearing manner torpedoed that possibility.
I’ll have to deal with him soon enough. Right now, I’m tired and having trouble holding a thought. My eyes feel grainy, and I close them, letting the steady humming of the well-tuned engine lull me to sleep.
****
We arrive at Connor’s brownstone overlooking Central Park just before five. I’m ushered out of the car and into the lobby and in short order, Connor, two members of his security staff and I are all crammed into an elevator. I try to shift away from Connor, but his hand comes around my neck in a proprietary grip, keeping me beside him. My look shoots daggers but he ignores me as the numbers light up for each successive floor. Yet another security member greets us as the doors open. “All clear, Mr. Edge.”
“Thank you, Justin.”
Justin, I recognize from the Rosemont. He nods in my direction. “Ms. Sinclair.”
I smile at him, though it’s forced. “How are you?”
Connor’s eyes narrow at the other man.
Connor exits the bedroom just as I finish braiding my wet hair. He isn’t even looking at me as he types a text message on his phone. “You ready?”
My dress, shoes and underwear from the night before are in the shopping bag, as well as my clutch containing his check, my phone and twenty seven dollars, all the cash I have. “What about that?” I nod to the dishes still sitting on the patio.
“I have staff to clean up.” He stows his phone and gestures toward the front door.
Considering I’m part of that staff, his answer rankles. Just leave it, the help will get it. Casting him a sour look, I open the sliding glass door and stalk to the table where I start stacking dishes. Connor watches silently as I scrape the remains of the delicious breakfast into the trash and load the dishwasher. When the task is complete I dry my hands on a dishtowel and turn to him. “You should learn to clean up your own messes.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he says levelly.
Great, I’ve gone from being his most cherished possession to a mess he’s forced to deal with in a burst of latex. Was I really naive enough to hope for a happy ending here? My anger deflates and my shoulders sag as we exit through the garage.
I’m surprised to see men wearing Connor’s black security detail uniform appear on either side of us. “Did they sleep in the car all night?”
“I own every house on the street.”
No wonder the strip of beach was virtually deserted. “Any particular reason?” I don’t know what compels me to ask, because the last thing I want is to make small talk with him, give him another chance to gut me.
There is an SUV with blackout windows idling at the curb. One of the security guards opens the rear door for us and Connor places his hand on the small of my back as I climb inside. Once we’re secured inside the car, the driver pulls away from the curb. “Privacy, for one thing. The people I gift those houses to have proven themselves loyal employees.”
“So a house in the Hamptons is part of your corporate pension plan?”
“Not for everyone,” he murmurs. The phone reappears and his brow crinkles as he reads something on the small screen.
I stare out the window, not surprised when fat drops of water spatter against the windshield. The rain suits my mood. I don’t want to make a scene in front of his people but I need to tell Connor it’s over. I can’t be with a man who blatantly disregards my feelings about something as personal what sort of birth control I take. The only reason I’m going along with this is that I really don’t want to risk a pregnancy. If he’d just taken a little bit of time to calm down and talk to me instead of ordering me to be seen to like some problem, maybe I wouldn’t be so set in my resolve to end it. I would have gone to see my own doctor at home for a morning after pill and discussed other methods of birth control. But his overbearing manner torpedoed that possibility.
I’ll have to deal with him soon enough. Right now, I’m tired and having trouble holding a thought. My eyes feel grainy, and I close them, letting the steady humming of the well-tuned engine lull me to sleep.
****
We arrive at Connor’s brownstone overlooking Central Park just before five. I’m ushered out of the car and into the lobby and in short order, Connor, two members of his security staff and I are all crammed into an elevator. I try to shift away from Connor, but his hand comes around my neck in a proprietary grip, keeping me beside him. My look shoots daggers but he ignores me as the numbers light up for each successive floor. Yet another security member greets us as the doors open. “All clear, Mr. Edge.”
“Thank you, Justin.”
Justin, I recognize from the Rosemont. He nods in my direction. “Ms. Sinclair.”
I smile at him, though it’s forced. “How are you?”
Connor’s eyes narrow at the other man.
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