Cherry Popper Read online

  THE NEXT FEW days passed slowly.

  Instead of thinking about Monroe’s naked body on my bed, I thought about the last words she said to me.

  When she put me in my place.

  For a man who was incapable of feeling most emotions, I felt like shit. To me, this wasn’t some sick game. This was a mutual benefit. She got what she wanted, and I got what I wanted. And it wasn’t like my offer wasn’t generous. Eventually, she would sleep with someone, be disappointed, and then regret not taking my offer.

  Her words should have made me stop thinking about her instantly, but unfortunately, the exact opposite happened.

  I wanted her so much, I was losing my mind.

  I put the other women on hold because I needed to conquer Monroe before I could move forward. Right now, the only woman I wanted was out of my reach, and any other woman would just be a disappointment.

  My first assistant, Jillian, came into my office. “Mr. Remington, here’s everything you need for the meeting.” She set a manila folder on my desk.

  “Meeting?” I asked, drawing a blank because I’d spent so much time thinking about Monroe.

  “Yes. Your brother is meeting you in ten minutes.”

  Shit, that was today? “Thank you, Jillian.”

  “Of course.” She walked out.

  I opened the folder and reviewed the numbers I would be presenting. My brother and I only spoke to each other on rare occasions, and only when it was necessary. Since we each owned half the company, we were forced to work together from time to time. He handled the resorts in the Middle and Far East, and I handled everything to the west. We had four quarterly meetings a year where we were forced to be face-to-face and a few other events that made us pretend not to despise each other. Today was a quarterly meeting, one I’d completely forgotten about.

  I refused to dread it or be nervous. If anyone should feel threatened, it should be him. He was the one who’d fucked everything up—for a goddamn woman. The betrayal would always feel raw, like a wound that just couldn’t heal. I tried not to live in the past or hold grudges, but when your flesh and blood stabbed you in the back, it was impossible to let go.

  It wasn’t even about her—it was about him.

  I left my office and took the elevator down a few floors. When I stepped out of the elevator, I could see the glass walls of the conference room. It could hold fifty people comfortably, but for today, it would only hold the two of us.

  I’d just happened to wear my best suit today and shave my beard, so I looked like a million bucks. I stepped through the door and found my brother standing at the head of the table, in a navy suit with a matching tie. There was no denying our relationship, not when we both had the same eyes, the same build, and features so similar, we looked like twins. His head was tilted down as he flipped through his notes.

  That’s when I noticed her.

  Simone.

  Tall, blond, and with vibrant blue eyes, she reminded me of a snake. She slithered in the dark and crept up on you in silence. Then she struck, sinking her fangs deep into your skin and injecting you with poison. She might be beautiful on the outside, but she was black as coal on the inside.

  I hadn’t expected to see her there because she was never present at our meetings, but I refused to look surprised. I walked to the table and sat down. “Ready?”

  My brother finally glanced up from his folder to look at me, but he wore the same indifferent expression he’d consistently held all these years. Even though he brought her to my territory, he still didn’t seem the least bit apologetic about it. “Yeah.” He took a seat.

  Simone sat in the seat across from me, decked out in expensive jewelry with perfectly styled hair. She wore a skintight black dress that showed her perfect figure. A diamond ring was on her left hand, a diamond so big it was impossible not to notice.

  Jesus Christ.

  “Coen, she has no business here.” I looked at him and ignored her, pretending she wasn’t there at all. “Last time I checked, we were the CEOs—and she was just your fuck buddy.”

  Coen lifted his gaze and looked at me, but he didn’t rise to the insult I’d made about his woman. “Simone and I are getting married. That means she’s a part of this company. She wants to be involved—which is why she’s here.”

  I wanted to grab him by the neck and slam his face into the table. His lack of intelligence alarmed me at times. We all turned stupid when it came to good pussy, but his ignorance was terrifying. “Then tell her about your day when you get home.”

  “Half of the company will be hers—”

  “Half of half the company will be hers,” I corrected. “And you’re an idiot for letting her have that much.” The angrier I got, the more bitter I seemed, but my rage had nothing to do with my personal feelings toward her. If he brought in any woman off the street, I wouldn’t be happy about it. But this woman, I knew exactly what she was after—our money. Coen didn’t see it, but I certainly did. “She has no experience or skills that give her the qualifications to sit at this table. This is our meeting.” Having her around would only make things worse because she would whisper in his ear and subtly manipulate him, just the way she’d already manipulated both of us in the past.

  Coen was wrapped around her finger too tight. “Let it go, Slate.”

  “Let what go?” I barked. “Even if I was fine with this, she’s not your wife. You aren’t married yet.” I turned back to her. “So get the fuck out, or I’ll throw you out.”

  Simone kept up her indifferent expression, like she didn’t care about what I said at all.

  If I had lesser morals, I would grab her by the neck and drag her out. “Coen, get rid of your whore.”

  “She’s not a whore,” he snapped.

  “If she’s slept with every man in the room, then yes, she’s a fucking whore. And if you want me to stop talking about her like this, I suggest you get rid of her.”

  Coen and I weren’t afraid to throw fists at each other’s faces, but since we were at work and in a conference room made of glass, we behaved ourselves. He sighed before turning to his fiancée. “Wait for me in the lobby.”

  The heavy disappointment appeared in her eyes. “What did we—”

  “I need to speak to Slate alone. Simone, go.”

  Clearly pissed that she wasn’t getting her way like a brat, she grabbed her folder and stormed off, her heels clacking against the tile and announcing her rage. When the door shut behind her and her obnoxious heels turned silent, she was finally gone.

  Coen turned to me. “It’s been five years, Slate. You still aren’t over it?”

  “I never needed to get over it in the first place, asshole. She’s a vindictive, manipulative, gold digger. How do you not see it? You don’t think she pulled this same shit with me? When I didn’t give her what she wanted, she moved on to you. How stupid are you?”

  “It’s not like that—”

  “Yes, it is. Normally, I wouldn’t care. If anything, you deserve everything that bitch is about to do to you. But this affects me—because half this company is mine. She’s not qualified to play a CEO.”

  “Because she’s a woman?” he asked incredulously.

  “No. Because she’s a bitch. I own half this company—and I want her to have nothing to do with it.”

  “There’s not much I can do about that once we’re married.”

  “She’s signing a prenup. Easy solution.”

  “I can’t ask her to sign that.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why the hell not?”

  “It’s offensive.”

  “No, it’s necessary. The only reason you don’t want to ask her is because you know she’ll throw a fit. If she really loved you for you, she would sign the damn thing—and we both know it. I’m not letting that cunt walk in here and touch the company I’ve busted my ass for.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table as he looked at me.

  “It’s bad enough that you stabbed me in the back in the first place. N
ow, this? What the fuck is wrong with you?” I grabbed my folder and shoved it into his chest. “Here are my numbers for the quarter. You can send yours via email—so I don’t have to listen to this bullshit anymore.”

  I stormed out of the office and came face-to-face with Simone near the elevator. She stood perfectly upright with her folder tucked under her arm, trying to pretend she was more important than she really was.

  I hit the button. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

  “Really?” she asked. “What am I doing?”

  “You’re trying to sink your claws into our cash. You get half his portion and then start screwing some other guy. Coen is getting a prenup, so your genius idea won’t work.”

  “Prenup, huh?” she asked. “Coen would never do that. He loves me—really loves me.”

  Because he was an idiot.

  She stepped closer to me, her red lipstick contrasting against the fairness of the rest of her skin. “Does it still bother you? After all this time?” she whispered under her breath, her voice sultry.

  My brother and I used to be much closer. We were more than just brothers—we were friends. But then he started fucking Simone behind my back while I was seeing her. When I found out about it, he started dating her publicly, making a scandal that buried us for years. At the time, I felt like a fool for letting Simone play me, but what hurt the most was my brother’s betrayal. He traded in our relationship for a cheating whore. If we’d broken up and some time had passed before he’d asked if he could date her, I wouldn’t have cared. But they’d both screwed me over. Simone wanted me for my money, but when she realized I would never marry her, she moved on to the next best thing—but my brother was too dense to see it. “Yes. It hurts knowing my brother is still this stupid—after all this time.”

  8

  Monroe

  I SAT across from the finance guy at the bank, the company that held my student loans as well as my medical bills. Two hundred thousand dollars would have wiped out my student loans, but my pride was too big. I didn’t want to submit to an asshole who thought he could have whatever he wanted.

  The banker was an older man in a stuffy suit, flipping through my paperwork with a bored look on his face. “There’s nothing that can be done. Since these are two private loans, they can’t be consolidated into one. You might be able to find another company that might buy it out, but the debt ratio is so high that it’s too risky.”

  I’d thought if I could refinance my loans, I could survive a little easier. Looked like that wouldn’t happen. “Alright…”

  He closed the folder then looked at me expectantly, like he wanted me to leave.

  “Well…my student loans are only for ten years, right?” At least I wouldn’t have to suffer like this forever.

  “No. That’s not correct.”

  My eyebrows furrowed. “But I’m on the ten-year plan.”

  “Yes…but you’re making the minimum payments. So you’re covering the interest but not the principle. At this rate…you’ll be paying this off for an additional fifteen years.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  He stilled at my profanity. “I wish I were, miss.”

  “That’s twenty-five years. That’s a mortgage.”

  He nodded. “Student loans have exceeded credit card debt in this country. It’s a crisis.” He said it in a monotone voice, like he said this a million times a day to other people in my situation. “The only solution is to pay more money. If you doubled your payment every month, you could finish on time.”

  “That would mean I would have to pay thirty-five hundred dollars a month…” That was how much I made every month after taxes. “I literally can’t afford that. It’s not possible.”

  “Then I don’t know what to say. It is what it is.”

  “Ugh…” I sat back in the chair and covered my face with my hand. Crying seemed so tempting, but I wouldn’t do it out in public like this. I had more balls than that. “This is a fucking nightmare.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, like he didn’t mean it at all. “And your private loan is nonnegotiable.”

  The loan for my mother’s treatment had an insane interest rate since I already had so much debt from my student loans. I would be paying that until I died, and then it would be transferred to my children. That bill would hang over my head forever. Even if I could afford a down payment on a house, I could never actually buy one because no bank would give me a mortgage at this point.

  How did I fuck up my life this much?

  “I don’t know what else to say. You could always get a second job.”

  And work sixteen hours a day, sleep, and then do it again the next day. “Thank you for your time.” I grabbed the paperwork and walked out, feeling much worse than when I walked in the door.

  Now Slate’s offer was even more tempting. If I just put out, that would save me twenty-five years of student loan payments. Maybe I had no room to call the shots. Maybe I had no right to anything anymore. Maybe I needed to just stop believing in fairy tales and accept the cold, harsh reality of the world.

  That life wasn’t fair.

  I NEVER GOT Slate’s phone number and I had no idea where he lived, so I had to go by his office again—even though his blond assistant would be pissed.

  It was the second time I’d entered his office, and this time, the humiliation was even worse. I’d told him off and made a big speech about how he was an asshole, and now I was back because I was desperate.

  He probably didn’t even want to see me anymore.

  He could just move on to someone else and forget about me.

  He would probably lower the price now that he had all the power.

  But if he was still interested, I could probably talk him back to two hundred. I really needed to get that loan cleared. Otherwise, I’d have to get a second job. My entire purpose in life would be just to work.

  I stepped inside and saw the blond girl look at me, this time with fire in her eyes. She immediately rose to her feet, prepared to make my life a living hell.

  I walked right past her.

  “No, I don’t think so.” This time, she jumped over the counter, not caring about her dress riding up, and grabbed me by the arm. “This is not how this office works. You can’t just march in here without an appointment—”

  “Jillian.” His deep voice immediately calmed her. In a gray suit and a black tie, he stood over both of us, acting as the thermostat in the room. He immediately lowered the temperature, making everyone cool down. “Miss Monroe is welcome to come and go as she pleases.”

  Jillian dropped my arm and became sweet as tea. “Of course, Mr. Remington. Thanks for letting me know.” She walked away and returned to her desk.

  I was relieved he’d saved me from her viciousness. “I’m sorry to drop by. I don’t have your phone number…”

  “I’ll make sure to give it to you this time.” He stepped to the side and raised his arm to show me to the doors. “After you.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes as I stepped inside his office, annoyed by his gentlemanly façade in front of his employees. He was the most arrogant asshole I’d ever met, and the fact that he hid that from the public just annoyed me even more.

  He shut the door behind me and sat behind his desk. “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting to see you again.” He relaxed in the chair, his elbows on the armrests and his fingers linked together. He wasn’t as aggressive as he used to be, but his thick muscularity still made him intimidating. Those chocolate eyes always seemed sinister, and his jawline was so sharp, it could be used as a weapon. He’d shaved that morning, so all the angular lines were visible. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, but he’d been swallowed by the shadows that existed in his eyes. He was no Prince Charming. He was the evil and sinister brother.

  “Neither did I,” I said honestly. “And I’m sorry to bother you at work.”

  “You aren’t bothering me. I could use the dis
traction right now.” He sighed quietly, his eyes taking on an air of annoyance.

  “Why?”

  “Just a bunch of bullshit. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

  Since I was only there for one reason, I didn’t ask. “I went to the bank yesterday to consolidate my loans. They’re out of control. I thought I could refinance them or something. But I found out that I’m going to be paying them off a lot longer because I can only afford the minimum payment…and it’s just a nightmare.”

  He wore the same expression, not showing sympathy or irritation.

  “Which brings me here…the last place I want to be.” Women usually did the walk of shame after a long night of dirty deeds, but not before. Somehow, I was doing it backward. “So…here I am.” I could barely look him in the eye because of the embarrassment. I’d made a big fuss about his money being worthless, and now I was asking for it again.

  To my surprise, he didn’t throw that back in my face. He didn’t ask for an apology either. He just stared at me. “I still want to fuck you—if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He reminded me how harsh it would be with his choice of words. It wouldn’t even be sex—but a fuck. He would pay for me then use me, use me like a disposable product. Once the packaging had ripped, it would never be the same. It was such a misogynistic view, this obsession with an untouched woman. It was a conquest, another accomplishment he could put on his resume. And I was going to give him what he wanted.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked. “Because I’m not interested in being teased anymore.”