Let's Play A Dirty Ass Game, Mr. CEO

Chapter 8: I WANT IT

TRISTAN

It hit me like a sandstorm the moment she denied knowing me.

I almost went mad.

Because we did in fact, know each other. We had spent a whole night five years ago, exploring each other’s bodies. Tasting each other. Fucking each other.

So how could she just deny me like that?

But then, she could not be blamed. Things had gone terribly downhill between us ever since that night. I tried to keep her around because I wanted more of her, but she wanted nothing more with the man who kept his CEO identity a secret just to fuck her.

Of course, that was far from the truth. Would I ever get the chance to explain it to her?

It was so obvious that she was not the same woman from back then. Who would believe that the fastest-rising star who made waves in the fashion industry now, was the same Laura Hayes who was humiliated and treated unfairly by my company five years ago?

Who would believe that seeing her again, after all this time, would fuck with my head like this?

Moments after I was denied access by her shit-faced bodyguard, I stood there on the red carpet, staring at her ginger hair as it shimmered in the evening sunlight.

She had just disappeared into a black SUV with the most dazzling of smiles when a hand curled around my arm and pulled me off the carpet.

Thankfully, the paparazzi and reporters were so focused on her that they did not notice me standing there. They would have pounced on me like a swarm of bees, buzzing in my ears and increasing the ache in my skull.

"What is wrong with you?" Madison’s nagging began as we glided towards our vehicle. "The media would have eaten you up if they spared one moment not worshiping that bitch."

I did not miss the bitterness in her tone. Of course, Madison had recognized Laura too. She did not seem very happy about the fact that any woman was getting more attention than she was, at a fashion show. Especially not the one she kicked to the ground sometime ago.

Madison was fashionable in the flashy kind of way. It was nothing like the creative precision and stardom that Phoenix displayed.

And the face behind that brand? Laura Hayes. Unbelievable.

"Did you see the way she looked at us back on that runway? I bet she feels on top of the world now that she’s tasted a little bit of fame."

I ignored her and stared out the window as the car moved, even though I itched to tell her to shut the fuck up.

First, Laura looked at me. Me. Not Madison.

Madison did not feel that electric current that burned in the air. She did not feel this ache in my chest.

Second, Laura had every right to feel on top of the world. Because she looked like she had done well for herself. Wonderfully well.

Third, Laura was even more famous than Madison and I put together. So who said Madison could speak like that?

"Don’t get all quiet and broody on me. It’s not my fault you didn’t get to meet the Phoenix you’ve been chirping about for weeks."

My jaw ticked as my gaze strayed to her face. "Do you want to continue the ride alone? Or you want me to kick you out of the car?"

She blinked, caught somewhere between shock, disbelief and rage.

Of course, Madison would be fuming. But who gave a fuck?

"Are you seriously trying to pick a fight?" she snapped. "Our wedding is just around the corner and you almost fell off your seat staring at her!"

I stared at her for a beat of three seconds. "Stop the car."

The car screeched to a halt. I caught my PA’s stolen glances in the rearview mirror.

"Get out."

Madison’s jaw hung open. "What? Are you talking to me?"

I held her gaze without flinching. "Yes, Madison. Get. Out. I need to think without a parrot in the car."

She laughed. "You’re not serious."

At this point, I was more serious with her than I’d ever been. To prove it, I got down, snatched her wrist and pulled her out of the car.

Her lips curled into an ugly snarl as she stumbled onto the sidewalk. "Let me go!"

I did, after she was safely out of my car.

"You will regret this, Tristan! Fuck you!"

I hardly cared what Madison thought. Even less at the moment.

I got back into the car and slammed the door shut. Then I watched her through the tinted glass as she glanced around frantically, still furious.

"See to it that she gets home safe," I directed at my PA, Logan, who had been silent the whole time. "And set up an official meeting with Harlan Voss. As soon as possible."

"Yes, boss."

As soon as the vehicle moved, my thoughts wandered far off.

Phoenix. Laura. The last model to walk the runway who stole every attention in the hall. The tanned skin. The captivating eyes. The hair.

God. I wanted to run my fingers through those ginger curls again.

Just thinking about how she looked when I fucked her, my cock went stiff in my pants.

I always knew she was beautiful. But now? Damn. I wanted to get my hands on her body by all means. I wanted her close. I wanted to work with her. I wanted her, every part of her.

Fuck.

If I thought enduring her absence these past years had been hard, then I was in for a hell of a ride. Because seeing her without being able to touch her, or reach her, or hold her close, was an even worse torture.

I whipped out my phone to give Harlan a call. Apparently, the bastard was close to the woman that made my heart race in an unimaginable way. A woman I have secretly searched for, all these years.

But the alarming inflow of notifications made me pause and scroll through social media.

Turns out some paparazzi had managed to get a few dashing shots of me on the red carpet. I mean, no CEO is more popular or good looking than Tristan Pierce of Pierce Holdings. It was every day my pictures were slapped on magazines and blogs. But today, they had the juiciest and nastiest captions anyone could imagine.

"He’s got the kind of eyes that arrest at first glance."

"The CEO with a heart of stone who would stop at nothing until he’s acquired every brand he sets his mind to."

Then I saw a picture of me standing there with Laura’s bodyguard, looking as sad as a puppy. Who the fuck took a picture of me like this?

The caption read: "Oops. Did he just get snubbed by the famous Phoenix? What is he thinking? He can’t just buy her out like a movie ticket!"

I scoffed, rage spilling against the walls of my chest like thick paint. "I want it, I’ll get it."