A Bossy Roommate (Next Door to a Billionaire #2)

21. Carter

21

CARTER

5:14 A.M.

I roll over to find she’s not there. The sheets are cold, and when I sit up and listen, I can hear her humming to herself in the kitchen. I take a second to collect myself and get up. After my bathroom routine, I splash my face with cold water. Why the fuck am I allowing myself to get worked up about this?

No, I know what the problem is.

The power dynamic. She’s my assistant, and I’m the boss. I set the ground rules and she follows them. I have always been that way at work and in the bedroom.

Friday night after our kiss, something had changed. Last night, things had gotten worse.

She’s gotten under my skin.

I need to work out, to channel my energy into something else. After throwing on a pair of black workout shorts and black sneakers, I head to the gym like I do every morning. I avoid even looking in the direction of the kitchen, not wanting to get distracted by Eden.

The familiar burn of my muscles is a welcome feeling. I run on the treadmill, watching the news.

I haven’t been going for more than five minutes when I hear the guest suite door open, and my aunt pokes her head in. “Oh, Carter, good morning, I figured that was you,” she greets. “Stop that running nonsense. I think your beautiful wife is cooking us a big breakfast… Mmm. I can smell pancakes.”

“I’ll be there in seventeen minutes, Auntie.”

“All right, mon chéri .”

I work out until I can’t run anymore. By the time I step off the treadmill, I feel a lot better. I jump in the shower and throw on a fresh pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt before joining Eden and Aunt Eleanor in the kitchen.

She was right: Eden has made a large breakfast.

There are veggie omelets, toast, and vegan pancakes. It surprises me, considering she’s never given any indication that she’s interested in cooking. There’s even a colorful fruit salad, and, lo and behold, chocolate cupcakes. It’s a nice gesture from her to make my aunt feel welcome.

“Good morning,” Eden sings, far too cheerful for the early hour, wearing her summer dress, and pouring orange juice into three glasses.

“Good morning,” I rumble.

I walk over to her, put my fingers under her chin, turn her face to me, and place a soft kiss on her lips, followed by another one.

“Good morning,” she repeats breathlessly, spilling half the juice. I like that my kiss affects her that much. Her eyes are laughing, so are mine, but she quickly catches herself and wipes away the mess, addressing my aunt. “What do you want to do today, Auntie?”

My aunt’s plane is leaving in the early evening, and I’m glad there are many hours to fill with memories. “Yes, Auntie, anything special you’d like to do?”

“Oh, you don’t have to go making such a fuss. As long as I spend the day with the both of you, I’ll be happy.”

“Auntie, I must say, you are positively glowing today,” Eden says. “Did you sleep well last night? You seem to be full of vitality and vigor.”

Just as Eden asks that, my aunt goes into a coughing fit, and Eden hurries to get her some water while I kneel by my aunt to check on her.

“Try to take a deep breath,” I order.

“I’m all right, I’m fine.” She drinks from the glass Eden pushes into her hands, and after a moment, the coughing stops. “There, see? All better.”

I keep my eye on her as we eat breakfast. She seems fine, chatting away with Eden as the two of them lay out the plans for the day. Straying from her initial insistence of our activities not being important to her, my aunt is on a mission to take Eden and Hattie around to see not one or two but every single one of her favorite sights NYC has to offer.

“I am bringing Hattie with us, folks,” she announces. “Hattie’s always telling me about her wild youth, and I need to see some of that excitement in action. You know what they say: the more, the merrier!”

She’s in the middle of a lengthy talk about touring the Museum of Natural History when I interrupt.

“That’s a marathon,” I tell her. “Auntie, I really think we should consider doing something less strenuous. I know you want to spend time with us and show Eden and Hattie the places you like, but I don’t think this is the best way to do it.”

“Carter, I am not spending the entire day cooped up inside this apartment. Eden is family, and so is Hattie, and I want to spoil the three of you while I can.” Her tone is firm. “This is not up for discussion.”

“We’ll take frequent breaks,” Eden interjects, trying to ease the tension. “We’ll rest, and make sure there’s plenty of down time. But my husband is right, you don’t have to take me to see everything, Auntie.”

When she drops the H-bomb just like that, an odd feeling shakes through my chest. My aunt catches on to it and smiles at her. “We won’t see everything, dearie. Just the places I know you’ll love.”

I can tell Eden is trying to find a compromise, but when Eleanor has her mind set on something, compromise isn’t an option.

I’m outnumbered two to one.

We spend the better part of the morning touring the city, Hattie Hutton in tow. We take a ferry ride to Red Hook, Brooklyn, first, then Aunt Eleanor drags us into a department store, trying to buy things for us: a cat-shaped shower head that sprays water out of the ears and nose for Hattie, and two books for Eden: How to Train Your Husband and How to Survive Your Husband’s Midlife Crisis: A Guide to Coping with a Balding, Harley-Riding, Leather-Wearing Man . Last but not least, she finds—according to her—the perfect gift for me: a T-shirt that reads “I’m not bossy, I’m the boss” (which I actually like).

Hattie and Eden staunchly refuse to accept the gifts at first, but my aunt keeps insisting between three coughs, telling them she will feel much better if they would let her spoil them. Eden and Hattie give me pleading looks—Hattie because she’s trying to declutter since she’s moving and isn’t ready for “that level of wackiness in her life,” Eden because she doesn’t want to jinx things by accepting gifts that offer the best advice on “how to navigate tricky marriage dynamics.”

I know better than to interject. A shrug and a cheerful smile are the only things I offer.

“I’m sure this one will be a real page-turner,” Eden says to Auntie when we stand by the register. They’re still joking away about my midlife crisis that’s apparently a breath away.

“You know what would really help me cope?” I ask. “A brand-new sports car.”

The three women turn to me, slack jawed.

Eden beams at me. “Did Carter Bancroft just make a joke?”

“Yep, told you I’m a fun time.”

The day would have actually turned out nice if not for the phone call I receive around noon.

We’ve just sat down for lunch at The Good Fork, a cozy and charming neighborhood spot, when my phone goes off. It had happened a few times throughout the morning, and I’d ignored it. However, this time, I look at the screen and see Saul Huxley is the one calling.

Fuck.

Eden must see the expression on my face. “Why don’t you answer it, babe? We’ll tell the waitress we need a few minutes to decide.”

I nod and get up from the table, answering the phone. “What is it, Huxley?”

“Bancroft, I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday,” Huxley says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “But I just received an…interesting phone call you need to be made aware of.”

“What happened?”

“The Grangers have decided not to renew their contract with us.”

No.

My stomach drops, and my hand curls tighter around the phone. “Why the hell not?”

“A myriad of reasons. It looks like they’re talking to Ecclestone. I’ll forward the email to you. But suffice it to say, this doesn’t look good for Legacy. As you know, the Grangers are a very influential family. First thing tomorrow morning I’ll need you to gather your team and prepare for damage control. I’ll likely be out all day, but I’ll check back with you. No doubt others are going to hear about this, and it’s not going to be pretty. But I’ll leave you to the rest of your day. How’s your aunt?”

What a dick move.

Huxley is such a fucking bastard. I can’t even begin to list the reasons why I want to curse at him. He did all this on purpose, called me right in the middle of my day to tell me horrible news. He wants to ruin my time with my aunt, knowing I’ll be distracted, wracking my brain, and powerless to do anything until Monday.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” My voice is tinged with the barely contained rage I feel. Without waiting for a response, I hang up on him.

I go back to the table, where Aunt Eleanor, Hattie, and Eden regard me with triple looks of concern.

“Everything all right, Carter?” my aunt asks.

“Everything’s fine. Nothing that can be done right at this moment.” I force a smile, and my aunt relaxes. Eden knows something is up, but she also knows not to press and turns her full attention back to my aunt.

Lunch proceeds uneventfully. I wish I could say that I push Huxley’s phone call to the back of my mind, but that would be a lie. I’m itching to get back to work so I can try to solve the Granger situation. I know if I’m able to talk to them, I can convince them to reconsider. When the ladies are refreshing in the bathroom, I fire off an email to Bradley.

Between that mess and the fact that my aunt is insistent on continuing our outing, despite her clearly being exhausted, I’m getting impatient. Still, I agree to a leisurely walk through Central Park and a stop at a coffee shop or bakery along the way for a coffee and some pastries.

“All right, what else is there to do?” Aunt Eleanor asks as we climb back into my car in the afternoon. Eden takes her seat next to my aunt in the back, which I’m happy about. “Oh! We could pop over to the Museum of Natural Hist?—”

“We’re going home, Auntie,” I say, trying to sound breezy. Hattie, sitting next to me in the passenger seat, gives me a thankful glance. She, too, appears exhausted, and her expression says it all: Museum, you say? Dreadfully dull! Let’s beat a hasty retreat!

“Carter, we still have time,” my aunt argues.

“I don’t care that we have time. We’ve been out all day, it’s been exhausting, the weather is getting hotter, and you have a plane to catch this evening,” I say, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “I think it’s best if we just take the next couple of hours to relax.”

“I’m sure stopping by the museum wouldn’t be so bad,” Eden counters. “It’s not far from here. There’s A/C. We wouldn’t have to stay long.”

“I said we’re going home,” I snap. “End of discussion.”

My aunt huffs. “There’s no need to get testy, dear. We heard you the first time.”

Hattie smiles at me, grateful. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her smile warmly at me.

In contrast to that, in the rearview mirror, Eden is glaring daggers at me. Because I’d insisted we take the less-exhausting ferry ride first and now have no time for my auntie’s beloved museum. If we had started with Auntie’s beloved museum first, we’d all have been exhausted for the rest. Strategically, it had been the better choice. Not just strategically, mentally too. I can feel Eden’s disappointment, and I know she’s biting her tongue to stop herself from arguing with me in front of the ladies. She has to move on from it, simple as that. I’ve been on edge for hours and am tired of arguing. It’s time for a break.

When we pull into the parking garage, I notice that my aunt’s hands are shakier than usual. “Are you all right?” I ask and see Eden immediately grab her hand, concern written all over her face.

“Just fine. I think perhaps you were right, and I need some rest. Help me upstairs.”

I help my aunt out of the car, and Eden goes ahead of us with Hattie, calling the elevator and holding the doors open as I usher Aunt Eleanor in. Once we all say goodbye to Hattie—rather shortly, in which the two elderly women only quietly wave at each other—and enter the apartment, my aunt goes to lie on the couch.

An hour later, Eden re-fluffs one of the throw pillows my aunt is lying on. “No worries,” she tells Auntie. “You just stay here on the couch, and Carter and I will prep your things for your flight.”

“I’m sorry, dearies, but I don’t really think I’m in any state to travel,” Aunt Eleanor says, slowly lowering herself back onto the couch.

“I’m taking you to the emergency room.” I immediately reach for her. “Eden, grab one of her bags.”

“No, no! No doctors!” Aunt Eleanor exclaims, outraged. “I don’t need them to tell me what I already know. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Eden looking at me, but I don’t meet her gaze. “Auntie, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you not to get checked out,” I insist. “We shouldn’t take any chances. If you’re too weak to fly?—”

“Carter,” Aunt Eleanor says in a firm voice, “I am not going to the hospital and that is final. All they are going to tell me is that I need to rest. I do not need to waste time hearing what I already know.”

“I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Eden says, trying to be positive.

I’m not having any of it. “I don’t like this, Auntie,” I insist. “You’re playing with your health.”

“It is my life, Carter. I will do with it as I please. Eden, help me to the guest suite, s’il te pla?t , I wish to take a nap.”

Eden pushes past me to do as my aunt asked. As they walk away, I make for the kitchen. I need a drink. A strong one.

I pour myself a large glass of whiskey and drink half of it in one swig. It burns my throat all the way down. I shut my eyes and revel in the feeling, trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do. It’s not my aunt’s fault that she’s grappling with a medical issue. However, her behavior today didn’t help the situation and has most likely made it worse. That, coupled with the loss of the Granger account, has me at the end of my rope. The beginnings of a headache have started to take route.

After another quick drink, I go to my room.

“She’s resting.” Eden joins me a few minutes later. “Care to tell me why you’re acting like this?”

“Not now, Eden. I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, it’s not about you , Carter. She’s tired. If she says she’s not up to traveling, then so be it. We’ll deal.”

I spin around to face her, but speak quietly. “That’s not the point, dammit. Look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t frustrated with this whole thing. She spent the entire day dragging us around the city, refusing to rest and take it easy. And now, unsurprisingly, she’s not feeling well. I’m fucking scared. Of course she’s not going anywhere. I wouldn’t let her on that damn plane even if the flight attendants were all damn doctors. And on top of all that, I get a call from Huxley that Granger Estates, the client I spent two years working for, suddenly doesn’t want to renew our contract. How am I supposed to focus on work when I’m too busy trying to get my aunt to take her health seriously?”

“You’ll figure it out. It’s not the end of the world, Carter.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I shake my head. “How can you always be so damn optimistic, woman?”

“What, you want me to be grumpy and pissy like you?” she asks, gesturing at me with a glare. “I wish you could hear yourself right now. You have an aunt who loves you and wants nothing but the best. You have a successful career and clearly tons of money. From where I’m standing, you have a hell of a lot to be thankful for, yet all you’ve done today after that phone call, is brood and think negatively. Get over yourself, Carter. Ugh!”

“Your volume, please, keep it down.” I gesture to the room next door where my aunt is resting. “Save your vocal exercises for the shower, or is that asking too much?”

She shoots me an irritated glance. “You really have a knack for ruining the mood, you know that?”

“You have no idea what I’m going through.”

“And whose fault is that? Do you want to know why I try to be so optimistic? Because if I really examined where my life is right now, I’d spiral hardcore. I was left at the damn altar and robbed blind by the man I loved and thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I was under the impression that he loved and cared for me deeply, but he shattered my heart by confessing that his feelings were never genuine. All of my friends turned their backs on me, believing his deceitful claim that it was me who robbed him, instead of the other way around. Now I’m left with just my sister, who had been warning me about him from the start. Talk about getting a bitter taste of her ‘I told you so’!”

There it is. My instincts had been spot on. What a poor excuse for a man. Eden had mentioned it before and had always more or less played it off like it wasn’t a big deal. I can sense the magnitude of her suffering. Clearly it had been bad enough for her to run away.

“The woman down there is old,” she says, pointing next door. “She’s frail and still made the journey across a flipping ocean to see you. All she wanted to do today was have fun, to spend the day active like everyone else. And you want me to feel sorry for you because she wouldn’t listen to you? Yeah, that’s not going to happen. She’s an adult, she’s allowed to make her own choices.” Eden is visibly agitated in a manner that I’ve never witnessed before or deemed possible of her. “If you actually started paying attention and stopped trying to think you know best about everything, you would see what she’s really trying to do.”

Yes, I’m frustrated that my aunt is playing loose and hard with her health. But more importantly, I’m frustrated that she won’t take my concerns seriously. After all, I only want what’s best for her.

“Eden, please,” I say, calmly. “You’ve known her for two days—I’ve known her my whole life.”

“Sometimes it takes someone from the outside to see what you’re blinded by. I know you love her. It’s obvious she means a lot to you, but in your haste to take care of her, you’re ignoring what she wants, which is not to be treated any differently than you treated her before. There’s a reason why she’s here. And by the way, I think your aunt has plenty of energy and health left in her, and she’ll be around for many more years to come. That’s what she told me yesterday, and I’m confident that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

Although I have my doubts, her words have a calming effect on me. Despite the circumstances, I, too, can sense that my aunt still has unfinished business and is far from ready to take her final bow. Still, I won’t take any risks.

“Speaking of being blinded,” I say, not letting Eden off the hook. This is about her as much as it’s about my aunt. “Did you ever stop to think that in your haste to stay positive, you’re ignoring what you’re really feeling?”

“Who says I’m ignoring anything?”

“I do.”

Her eyes flare. “I think I know my own thoughts and intentions better than you.”

“Do you? Because in the little time I’ve known you, you’ve been back and forth on your feelings so much it gives me whiplash.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Your ‘no sex for six months’ rule. How is that going by the way?”

“Ugh! Look in the mirror! How is your rule going about not having close relationships with employees?”

“Quiet. We’re not alone, remember?”

Eden glares at me. “Oh, now you care about that? I’m done here.”

“Wait. Don’t run away. Please don’t.”

She turns abruptly, storms toward the door, and, in her haste, knocks a thick investor’s magazine from a nearby shelf. As she tries to avoid it, she bumps her foot into something. The next thing I hear is her cry of pain.

“Ah. Oh, my God! Ah… ahhh ,” she moans in pain.

“ Fuck .” I’m by her side in less than a second, holding her. “Does it hurt, baby?”

“ Ahh-ha . Yes.”

“Oh, fuck.”

I crouch down to take a look.

“ Ahh, Carter, oh, my God,” she whines and moans. “ Ahh. ”

I haven’t even touched her. “Eden, wait…”

“Carter! Aaaahhh .”

What the fuck?

I’ve yet to make physical contact with her foot.

Close by, a door slams.

We freeze.

Her wide eyes meet mine.

I stand back up, and we’re glaring in the direction of the door. We listen to my aunt’s footsteps draw closer, and all I can think is, I fucking hope she doesn’t think what I think she’s thinking.

“Carter Donovan Bancroft?” she asks through the closed door.

I have to take a second to answer, trying to come up with what to say, how to approach this, form the right words. “Yeah?”

“I’m feeling well again. I’m going over to Hattie’s. For a glass of…a cup of Earl Grey.”

I can’t bring myself to say no. After all, she’s supposed to be resting, and a cup of Earl Grey sounds restful to me. “Okay.”

“Oh, and…next time just ask me if you want some alone time. I know what it means to be newlyweds.”

We hear her shuffling footsteps quickly fading away.

The front door closes.

“Wait, what?” Eden stares at me. “Please. Does she imagine we were doing that ?”

“Yep.”

“No, seriously. Does she think we had sex just now, and that I… orgasmed ?”

“ Yep .”

“Stop her! We need to explain.”

I laugh out. “I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“I can’t.”

“Carter!”

“ Impossible . How would I explain this? ‘Auntie, we did not have sex. Eden dodged a falling magazine and, in the process, she bumped her toe, meaning, her cries were cries of pain, not of passion?’ She’d never believe me. She’d think it was a poor excuse. It’d make things worse.”

Eden palms her face, peeking through her fingers. “This is so embarrassing.”

“I know.”

“She thinks we’re having angry sex.”

“I know .”

She drops her hands, and her outraged eyes meet mine. I half-expect them to pop out of her head.

That’s when I erupt into laughter. I let myself fall against the wall, pulling her with me, unable to stop laughing.

She bursts out too, snort-wheeze-laughing, curling into my chest, holding her stomach. With my arms around her, we watch each other laugh, only to stop and start again. Her laughter does something to me. It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed with somebody the way I’m laughing now. Seeing her laughing eyes, her laughing face, truly loving the moment snaps my resolve and has me reacting without thinking.

I grab the back of her head and pull her against my chest, my lips descending hungrily onto hers. The second my mouth touches hers, our laughter stumbles briefly—but doesn’t come to a complete stop.

We kiss-laugh.

I mean, I kiss-laugh, she kiss-snort-laughs.

But eventually the kissing gradually replaces our laughing until all that’s left is us kissing. Hungrily.

We kiss like two people possessed.

I’m losing sense of time.

My hands are all over her body. Over her tits. Over her ass.

Next thing I know, her hands seize the front of my shirt, twisting the fabric as she pulls away from me.

She straightens, thanks me for the “nice kiss,” (What the fuck?) and slips out of the room.

It takes everything in me not to pull her back. I want to fuck her so bad I can’t think straight. I’m glad she’s out of my grasp. At this point, I can’t guarantee my actions. I’m impatient, greedy. Hungry. A wild beast. Something in Eden brings out this side of me, and Jesus Christ, I would have fucked her into oblivion.

I let myself fall onto the bed, landing on my back, arms outstretched.

Somewhere between the kiss and two hours after that, I doze off. In my half-asleep state, the dreamy events that follow our kiss are different—to a slight degree.

Marginal , really.

We kiss like two people possessed.

My hands are all over her ass and tits.

Next thing I know is her hands seizing the front of my shirt, twisting the fabric as she pulls me closer, urging me to take it off.

My shirt is gone in no time, and I press her against the wall.

Seeing her all fired up has me hard as a rock.

“You’re mine,” I growl. “Nothing will stop me from hearing you scream my name.”

I tug at the waistband of her pants and slide my hand underneath the tight fabric. Her skin is hot. If she thinks I’ve forgotten her favor the night before, she’s sorely mistaken. Ultimately, I’m all set to reciprocate the gesture. I slip my fingers into her panties, causing her to spasm against me. She’s wet. Drenched.

Her hands are harsh and impatient when she tugs at my belt. She’s going straight for the jackpot, that’s how wild she is for me. Once the buckle is undone quicker than I can blink (“good job there, wifey ”), she goes straight to rubbing my cock over my jeans.

Without warning, I brush my fingers against her clit while simultaneously biting down on her bottom lip. Her gasp is breathless and beautiful.

My lips trail down her chin to that silky smooth neck of hers. I nibble, bite, and suck on the sensitive flesh while my fingers coax an orgasm out of her. Already her thighs tremble, and her kisses are feverish. She won’t last long.

“Carter…” she breathes out in a harsh whisper.

I know what that means.

With one hand still between her legs, I use the other to push her panties down the swell of those tantalizing hips. I’ve never seen anybody step out of their clothes and kick them away as eagerly as Eden does. Urgency unlike anything I’ve ever felt with anyone else takes hold of me.

We move in tandem, my erection rubbing against her belly. I grab the back of her thighs, and she hops up, wrapping her legs around my waist as I walk us to my bed where I lay us down.

“Baby, spread those legs even wider. Tell me, ‘Fuck me, babe.’”

She does. When she whispers the words, my heart almost stutters.

With one quick, hard thrust, I push my cock into her heat.

Thank fuck.

This time, both of us have to struggle to keep our voices down. For the record: in my dream the whole building is completely soundproof, effectively contravening Eden’s suggestion of Mrs. Hutton and my aunt listening with turned teacups held against the wall.

Heaven. Fucking heaven.

Eden’s mouth claims mine in a breathless kiss.

I fuck her against the mattress.

In my mind, fucking her is a desperate need. An insatiable hunger. But it’s more. It’s an irresistible force that renders me powerless. Every fiber of my being longs for her and craves the sensation of touching her.

She rocks up and against my dick like she’s made for it, made for me—and me alone. She molds against me perfectly. We fall into a steady rhythm as I cradle her against me, my tongue in her mouth, my cock inside her, and I fuck her slowly, savoring every precious second, relishing the sweet ecstasy of that moment.

I hold her tighter, breathing hard. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

Neither one of us is going to last long. It becomes a competition to see who’ll give in first. Clearly, I’ll win. It’s not as though she has any doubts about it. But she sure as hell is trying to fight for the place. Every time she squeezes or clenches around me, shockwaves of pleasure ripple through my system—they make me move faster, fuck her harder. Fuck her more thoroughly. Fuck her like she deserves. Making it impossible for her to greet the next day without still feeling me, feeling our connection.

My hands grip her ass, giving me the leverage to ground myself deeper into her addictive heat. She twitches and rocks along with me, her kisses growing desperate, her breaths becoming ragged, her hands digging in tighter.

She comes first.

She comes hard.

Harder than she’s ever come in her life.

It’s the most beautiful sight of my life. Also, the hottest.

Throwing her head back against the mattress, a beautiful moan escapes through her clenched teeth, with my name on her lips. Her sweet pussy squeezes and pumps me, making me groan.

I can’t stop coming.

I come, and come, and come, holding her firmly in my embrace.

I keep going until there’s nothing left, until all I can do is press my weight against her, my forehead against hers, only my arms supporting me.

When I open my eyes to hers, our breathing still heavy, she looks at me like I’m all she’s ever needed.

As I attempt to pull out, her pussy squeezes me like a vise, preventing me from sliding out, so I remain inside her. Her eyes smile at me. Mine smile back.

Next thing I know, I fucking wake up—lying in bed, alone, begging, pleading for this not to be just a dream.