Changing the bad boy

Chapter 16

VALERIE POV

It's finally quiet. My brother has left, the kids are sleeping; the neighbors have stopped their s*x capades and I've shut the TV off.

I drain my third glass of wine, stretch out on the couch, and decide to call Fiona.

"Hey," she sings. "How was your day in Hottie Land?"

I let out a giggle, but a second later I groaned because even though it was a great day at work it got a bit rough once I got home.

"So much has happened today, Fi," I tell her.

"Yeah," she beams. "Good stuff?"

"Mostly, I think."

"Has it solved the cobwebs be gone problem?" she asks eagerly.

I snort out a laugh. "No, not that good." But damn, now I wish that was the case.

"I figured that, so I bought you something," she says, and I can hear the amusement in her voice.

"Oh god." I'm not sure whether I should be scared or excited. It can go either way with Fiona.

"Yeah, she chuckles, it might make you scream 'oh god."

"Fiona!" I try to be stern but after three glasses of wine, and images of a half-naked Preston dancing through my mind all sense of dignity flies out the window. And I'm curious what she bought.

"I'm just trying to be a supportive friend," she teases. "You know, until you get the real thing again."

"Oh, no, Fi. Did you buy me a vibrator?"

"Maybe," she laughs. "By the way, it's purple."

I groan loudly again, which only makes Fiona laugh harder. It's not long before I can't help but laugh along with her. And I guess there are worse things than your best friend wanting to help you out, in all sorts of ways.

***

I wake up to the feel of something slimy and wet across my face. There's a little giggle next to me as I blink and try to force my eyes open. It takes me a few seconds to orient myself once I do.

It's morning and I'm in my apartment, only I fell asleep on the couch instead of the bed last night, which explains the crick in my neck. And I'm being smacked in the face by a wet bathcloth.

"Morning Mommy," Bella says happily.

"Bella," I croak out, my mouth dry from last night's wine. "What are you doing?"

"Helping."

"Helping?" I push myself up

to a sitting position. "With what?"

"Uh huh, mommy's dirty face."

I look from her big smile to the wet towel she has in her hand, dripping water all over the floor.

"Dirty face?" Oh, yeah, I probably have smeared makeup all over me.

Getting up from the couch in yesterday's rumpled work clothes, I take the wet cloth from Bella and walk to the bathroom. I drop it in the sink and stop short. The toilet lid is open. I look from the toilet to the sink, and back again, while a sick feeling flips my stomach.

"Bells," I call. "Where did you get the water from?"

I already know before she answers because she's not tall enough to turn on the faucet. Thank goodness the toilet had been flushed, and the water was clean.

"Potty," she responds, like a little ray of sunshine.

I don't have the heart to reprimand her, so I just tell her that from now on there's no more playing with water, unless I'm awake and with her.

She is right, though. My face needs a cleaning. It does look dirty with smudges of mascara and eyebrow pencil down my cheeks, which is even worse after Bella attempts to clean it off for me.

Maybe three glasses of wine is one too many. My head hurts and I'm too old to sleep on a worn-out couch.

It's early, so Rory is still sleeping. I put Bella in front of the TV and turn on a cartoon, as it's available this morning, unlike last night. Taking some much-needed time for myself, I enjoy a long and hot shower, where I scrub my face until it's red, and feel so much better.

By the time I get out of my room, dressed and ready for work, Rory is bouncing up and down in his crib. He's trying to climb out, taking instructions from Bella who's on the floor in front of him, coaching him on what to do.

Groaning, I pick him up, already knowing it's going to be a long day.

***

Andrew is in the kitchen when I get to work. He looks good in a dark blue suit, as usual, with his brown hair brushed away from his face. From the look he gives me and the quick squeeze of my shoulder, I know Preston told him of what I found out. I also gather that he appreciates it, but doesn't want to talk about it, which I assume is because he doesn't know who he can and cannot trust and that makes sense.

So instead I just wish him a good morning.

Andrew removes his cappuccino from the

machine and starts another one for me.

"Thanks," I say.

"No, thank you," he responds and walks out.

It's not much, but it's enough to bring a huge smile to my face. It's been a long time since I've felt truly appreciated. Seeing the gratitude on Andrew's face makes me stupidly happy, despite the dull headache.

With the cup in my hand, I hurry back to my desk and open up the email and the Marramount folder. There are a few appointments I need to confirm, a new invite for some fundraising gala Easton and Preston will need to respond to, and an email from Ralph Demers.

"What do we have here?" 1mumble to myself as I click on Demers' email.

I'm not surprised to find yet another increased estimate, although I think they're being reckless at this time. I would've figured that Preston's demand to have both me and him copied on everything going forward would've made them more careful.

This time the increase is for $5,000 for overtime charges to complete the luxurious bathrooms in the first two penthouses. I make a note to myself to double-check the original estimates and the subcontractor's bills to see if it adds up, or if this is another padding of Demers'own pockets. Because this is the kind of amount-too small

to worry about in that would've never made it up to Preston before he demanded to be copied on all changes.

Anyone not looking too far into this would approve the change. And since the amount isn't that great compared to the tens and hundreds of thousands they normally deal with, nobody would blink an eye. Except for me.

I print a copy and add an electronic one to the folder on my desktop.

The door by the elevators opens and Preston comes walking in next to Hayes. They are the two closest in age, and also the two brothers who look the most alike. They have similar heights and build - all the brothers are tall and in shape, these two spend a lot of time in a gym, and it shows.

The tailored suits only enhance their attractiveness. And I understand why the gossip rags and even some prestigious magazines are interested in their lives.

Sex appeal sells, and the Cartwright brothers have it in excess.

The door closes shut behind Hayes. He's two steps behind Preston with his phone in his hand as they make their way towards their offices.

I study them as they walk, confident and in no hurry. All the brothers are

gorgeous, like walking thirst traps, but Preston is a step above it all. He isn't exactly boyfriend material as far as I can tell, but I'm also not looking for a boyfriend. My mission is more carnal. And that he can deliver, even if it's just in the form of fantasies.

It's that sinful look in his steel-blue eyes that gets to me, the arrogance and self-confidence he extrudes. You can just tell that he'd be good in bed. That he knows how to work a woman's body. And according to Fiona, his reputation is for love 'em and leave 'em. But also for being very talented and having amazing equipment.

And I believe it.

My eyes drop to his broad chest. the red tie. white shirt

and gray suit jacket. I follow the red tie down over his flat stomach to the slim belt he has wrapped around his waist, to the well-fitting pants.

"Good morning Preston, Hayes," Alana says in a tone as sweet as sugar, which makes my eyes fly up. Lydia smiles and gives both of them a thorough once over. Kind of like I just did with Preston.

"Good morning," they respond in tandem. I look away in embarrassment. I'm becoming just as bad as Lydia and Alana. Maybe even worse. They are at least closer in age to Preston.

Hayes is older, but still a couple of years younger than me.

I'm a 36-year-old, divorced, single mom. I should not be ogling at a much younger man who also happens to be my boss.

"Anything urgent for me this morning?" Hayes asks Alana.

"Nothing until your ten o'clock meeting," she responds after a glance at the calendar.

"Thanks," he responds and pulls open his office door. Preston has already disappeared into his.

I bite back a groan. This new infatuation, or whatever it is, is stupid. I have a job to do, and it's not drooling over the CFO, even if he is the definition of eye candy.

It's one thing to find him attractive and admire him from afar and to joke with Fiona about it, but it's another to gape at him at work.

Damn, I really hope that whatever purple vibrator Fiona bought me is up for the challenge,because I'm going to be taking that baby out for a test spin as soon as I get it.

Thank god it's Friday, and I have a couple of days to get over myself.

"Valerie."

I look up to see Preston standing at the door opening with his eyes on me.

"Can I see you in my office, please?"