Ashley ignored Yvonne as she followed him up to the penthouse, intent on getting a drink, a shower and checking his messages. Not necessarily in that order. His temples ached and his fingers trembled slightly, the way they did after a particularly intense negotiation that lasted well into the night and even the next morning. He didn’t want Yvonne there, but the way she drifted into the apartment and settled on the couch like a sleepy cat told him she had no intention of leaving.
He undressed as he walked, reaching the kitchen in his boxers. Despite his need for alcohol, he grabbed a bottle of water first, realizing he was dehydrated. He brought the bottle to his lips, but nearly choked on the liquid as Yvonne finally spoke.
“So, have you f****d her yet?”
“No,” Ashley sputtered, setting
