Our Affairs

chapter 15

A year passed quicker than I expected. Work was relentless—I traveled constantly and never had the chance to spy on my pretty Payton the way I wanted. But her photo stayed with me everywhere I went, tucked in my bags, in my mind.

Then Elizabeth finally showed up with the news I’d been dying to hear: she was officially with Richard now, distracting him in every possible way.

Months later, a report Eric handed me changed everything. The company Payton worked for was in free fall. Profits had been declining for years, debts were piling up, and investors were quietly slipping away. And the employees had no idea how bad it had gotten.

This was the opportunity I have been waiting for. To finally be with Payton.

All I needed to do was invest enough to take control—which I did.

Within weeks I owned enough shares to force the board’s attention. When I laid out my plan to restructure the entire company, they barely pushed back. They were desperate, and they knew exactly how good I was at turning dying businesses around. They had no choice.

The old CEO stepped down shortly after.

And just like that, I became the new CEO.

On my very first day stepping into the company, they already told me: Payton was my assistant.

I barely had time to settle in when a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” I called.

The door swung open, and I couldn’t stop the slow, hungry smile spreading across my face.

There she was—the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on. She moved toward my desk with those files clutched against her chest, hips swaying just enough to make my pulse hammer. Every step was pure temptation, the kind that made me want to rip her clothes off right there on the spot and claim her against the glass.

Fuck. She was standing right in front of me now, close enough that I could smell her perfume, close enough that restraint felt like torture.

I forced myself to stay seated, to play the part of the composed new CEO. But then I caught it—the way her eyes flicked over me. Lingering. Appreciating. She was checking me out just as shamelessly as I was devouring her.Even if she seems composed.

And that was the moment I knew.

It wouldn’t be long.

She would be mine.

As the days slipped by, our glances grew longer, heavier. I’d been seducing her in every way I knew how—subtle touches, lingering looks, words laced with promise—and it was working. She was unraveling, just like I wanted.

Then came that night at the bar.

She was drunk, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy and reckless. Before I could process it, her lips crashed into mine. My head nearly exploded. She tasted like sin and sweetness—gin, cherry lip gloss, and something dangerously addictive. I wanted to devour her, to pin her against something and taste every inch. Instead, I bit her lower lip gently, just enough to make her gasp.

She pulled away suddenly, wide-eyed, and fled into the crowd, leaving me rock-hard and furious. Aching. She’d teased me to the edge and run, and now all I could think about was punishment—bending her over, spanking her until she understood exactly how much she’d wrecked me.

I fired off a message to Amanda: Bad mood. Need to let off steam. Now.

Minutes later, I was in my car, speeding toward the club. My special room waited, dimly lit, familiar. Amanda was already there, kneeling on the bed in that custom outfit I liked—the black lace, the collar, the mask. “Payton” was scrawled across it in elegant silver script, just as I’d requested.

She crawled forward the moment I stepped inside, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on mine through the mask.

I loosened my belt with a sharp tug, the leather whispering as it slid free. I crossed the room in three strides.

“Do whatever you want with Payton,” she murmured, voice husky. “I’m all yours.”

“Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

I wrapped my hand around her throat—gentle, possessive—and kissed her softly, as if she really were Payton. Then I slapped her cheek lightly, a sting that made her breath hitch.

“Be good from now on.”

“Yes, Master.”

I shoved her back onto the bed, shrugged off my shirt, and climbed over her. My body caged hers. I stared down, drinking in the sight—curves, skin, the rise and fall of her chest.

And then I froze.

She wasn’t Payton.

The mask, the name, the willingness—it was all wrong. I wasn’t drunk this time. I was painfully sober, and the heat that had been roaring through me moments ago guttered out like a candle in the wind.

“I need a drink,” I muttered, rolling off her.

I crossed to the table, poured a generous measure of whiskey, and knocked it back in one swallow. The burn did nothing to fix the hollow ache in my chest. I couldn’t believe it. Amanda—beautiful, eager, always reliable—had suddenly turned me off completely. This had never happened before. Not once.

All I could see was Payton. Her real lips, her real taste, the way she’d run from me like she was scared of how much she wanted it too. She was the only one I craved. The only one I needed right now.

“What’s wrong?” Amanda asked softly, sitting up.

I looked at her for a long moment, the whiskey glass still in my hand.

“I’m sorry, Amanda. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

I set the glass down, grabbed my shirt, and started pulling it on.

She slid off the bed and stepped in front of me, blocking the door. Her fingers brushed my cheek, then slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

“Teddy, you can’t just leave me like this. You’ve never rejected me before. Not once. What’s the problem?”

She rose on her toes and kissed me—deep, pleading.

I took a slow, steadying breath, cupped her face gently, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek instead.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I have to go.”

I stepped around her, opened the door, and walked out—still hard, still furious, but now burning for the one woman who wasn’t here.

I drove home still rock-hard, my mind a mess.

I knew Amanda would be furious right now. I had no idea what the hell had come over me. Why did I just walk out like that? Payton had somehow gotten under my skin—deep—and it was f*****g dangerous.

Once I got inside my room, I stripped off my clothes and headed straight for the bathroom. The tub water was warm, almost too inviting.

Even as I sank into it, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

My hand found my c**k, still aching. I started stroking—slow at first, then faster. Harder.

I must be losing my damn mind.

I’d left a woman who was ready to give herself to me completely tonight. A woman who wanted me, no matter what. And for what? To come home alone and jerk off in the dark?

My grip tightened. I stroked faster, rougher, chasing something I couldn’t name.

“f**k—” I growled through clenched teeth as I came hard, hips jerking.

“That’s it, Payton,” I rasped into the steam.

I’ve had enough.

You’re not getting away from me again.

At the elevator that Monday morning.

I wanted to do so many filthy things to her, but I held back. She was making me hard again—every time I got mad at her, the anger twisted straight into raw need I couldn’t control. I told her to meet me in my office. The second she stepped inside, I unleashed.

The hunger was unbearable. I dragged her against the wall and kissed her deep, tongue claiming every moan. I wanted to rip her clothes off, bend her over my desk, and bury myself inside her until she screamed my name. But she was Payton. Not like the others. She deserved gentle hands and slow, deliberate strokes so she could finally feel everything I’d carried for her for years.