His Nasty Little Pussy

TESS

“Yes?” I heard the word spill out of my mouth before I’d even fully processed what Brady was asking me.

His eyebrows lifted. “Was that a question? Or an answer?”

“Both? Neither?” What was I even saying? “Sorry,” I said. “I’m just having trouble understanding how you landed that damn helicopter in my street.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I don’t fly. But I have a very skilled pilot who can land anywhere I ask him. So…is that a yes?”

“You’re lucky I live on a wide street,” I said, crossing my arms.

I had not expected him to just show up like this, with a helicopter, no less. Had I really already agreed to this? Where the hell were we going? Did I even want to go?

Brady grinned. “Well, you’re lucky my pilot is an ex-army vet. He could land in a snowstorm on top of a mountain if I asked.”

“And yet you cut through all the red tape and needed sheriffs to block off my street.”

Brady’s eyes narrowed. “You’re deflecting from my question. Was that a yes?”

It wasn’t like I had anything else to do tonight other than stuffing my face with cravings for a pregnancy that I was denying was happening.

I hadn’t told anyone. Not Kate, not my father…and definitely not the man responsible for the positive result on my drugstore pregnancy test.

My entire life had been upended these last few months. First with Scott, then Brady’s job offer…and now this.

Apart from my professional success, I’d always wanted kids. However, I’d never quite believed they could happen simultaneously, and I didn’t know how to process that both were unfolding before me.

“You said the mayor will be there?” I asked.

Brady smiled. “Am I not enough?”

I narrowed my eyes. “This better not be a sex thing.” “We said no sex,” he said.

I eyed the contract in his hands. “Did you add that in our deal?” “I can,” he said.

I rolled my eyes and threw up my hands. A fancy event with the mayor didn’t sound half bad. “Fuck it.” I glanced at the man holding the two garment bags. “Let’s see this dress.”

“Actually, now that I think about it, we should probably change here.”

“Fine, but let’s make it quick,” I said, hurrying them inside. “My neighbors are going to kill me if your helicopter holds them up any longer.

You’re lucky my dad’s not home.” “He’d be angry?” Brady asked.

“No,” I chuckled. “He’d want a ride in the helicopter.”

Brady got ready in the guest bath, and his assistant, Cal, followed me to my room.

“I think you’re going to love this,” he crooned. “If you don’t, I’ll literally die because there’s no way you won’t love this.”

“Okay,” I hesitated. Could I fake liking a dress? I’d never been faced with a situation like this.

He unzipped the garment bag, and my jaw dropped.

Not so much at the dress-the dress was great. But the freakin’ price tag!

“Eight grand?” I gasped.

“Oops,” Cal said, ripping off the tag. “Meant to remove that.”

“Wait, you’re not returning it after this?”

Cal slanted his head. “Honey, eight grand is like a penny for Mr. Wyler. And now it’s all yours.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I’d never owned anything that expensive. Even the car I had in college was worth no more than five hundred dollars.

It was immediately apparent that cost did alter quality. The fabric hugged my frame perfectly. I was grateful that I hadn’t started to gain any weight from the baby growing inside me yet.

Stop it, I chided myself. It was not the time or place to think about that. Once I finally had a doctor’s visit to confirm what the test had shown, I would consider my next moves. But, for now, I was keeping mum about this to everyone.

The navy blue-ish dress was a perfect combination of sexy and elegant, the V-neck scoop resting just above my breasts, the draped back showing off my toned muscles. To top it off, its color complimented my dirty blonde hair perfectly.

“Damn, girl,” Cal said. “You look good!”

“Well, Cal…you have impeccable taste.”

Cal grinned. “Oh, I know.”

I emerged from my room just as Brady was stepping out of the guest bathroom. As he fixed the gold cufflinks of his tux, my heart skipped at the sight of him. He looked like a model from the cover of a fashion magazine, flashing his million-dollar smile.

I walked slowly down the stairs, the three-inch heels Cal had picked making me feel wobbly. The diamond earrings dangled from my ears-I didn’t even want to know how much they cost-and they matched perfectly with the silver-studded taupe Chanel handbag.

“Jesus, you know, if you were trying to impress me, all you had to do was tell me you had a helicopter. You didn’t have to park on my street. My neighbors are going to lose their shit.”

“Are you saying you’re impressed by me? Did Tess Perkins just give me a compliment?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

He glanced up at me and did a double take, his eyes absorbing me in a way I’d never seen anyone do before. I’d worn a dress at the award ceremony, but it definitely wasn’t anything like this.

Brady blinked. “You look…”

“I know,” I smiled. “Damn good.”

Brady’s eyes drifted to my waist, and heat rushed to my cheeks. Could he tell I wasn’t wearing underwear? I freaking hoped not. His eyes lowered to my heels. “I was going to say you look like you’re going to trip in those.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“See,” I said as I started descending the stairs, and, of course, as I hit the last step, I nearly rolled my ankle, tripping down the last step.

Brady’s arm shot out, grabbing me by the wrist and catching me before I could fall. My heart pounded in my chest, and a shiver rippled down my spine. I hated that he had that effect on me.

Hormones, I told myself. And, come on, he was God-hot. I could appreciate that. But that was all it would ever be. After tonight, I’d sign the contract, and we’d be business partners…and his baby growing inside me… I’d figure out how to bring that up another night. He didn’t need to know now.

“You good?” Brady asked, steadying me.

I forced a smile. “Just Golden.”

As we walked outside, my neighbors were lined out on the streets, taking photos of the chopper with their phones. I blushed as everyone’s eyes turned onto me.

Brady opened the back door, and I climbed inside, preparing myself for whatever was about to happen. After buckling and putting on headphones, we lifted into the air, and my stomach dropped. My hand shot out, grabbing his by accident.

“Sorry,” I said.

“It’s okay,” he smiled, his voice coming in over the headphones.”First time in a helicopter.”

“Oh no, this is like a normal Tuesday for me.”

He laughed. “Who knew that Tess Perkins had a sense of humor?”

The helicopter ride up town whisked my breath away. I chuckled and plastered my face against the glass in awe of the beauty.

I’d never seen the city from this perspective, the twinkling lights and winding roads, a spectacular array that made New York feel small and massive at the same time.

“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Brady’s voice said in my ears.

I returned his smile. “Beats sitting in traffic.”

He chuckled and glanced out of the window, and I wondered if all our business meetings would start with helicopter rides. I secretly hoped that would be the case.

I didn’t know what startled me more; my first helicopter ride or ducking beneath the still-moving blades as we dashed across the helipad of a building in the Upper West Side.

Movie stars lived like this. Models who dated billionaires did this. Not me-not Tess Perkins, whose entire life had fucking exploded six weeks ago.

But had it exploded?

As I stepped into an elevator, I stared up at a fucking crystal chandelier, my jaw dropping. This would never be my life. Don’t get used to this, Tess.

“What’s that look?” Brady asked me. He smiled, and, in this lighting, I realized he had a dimple on his right cheek.

“Do you ever get used to this?”Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

“Used to what?”

I glanced up at the chandelier and chuckled. The last party I attended was a pajama party with board games. “Having money?” I asked. “You get used to it. But you still don’t forget what it’s like to be poor.” “You? Poor?” I laughed.

“What?” Brady asked. “You thought I was born rich?”

I realized that I’d never given it much thought. “I mean…I guess I assumed that, yeah.”

Brady grinned. “Oh, Tess Perkins, there is a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Like how you enjoy calling people by their first and last name?”

His dimple deepened. “Oh no, I only save that for certain people.”

“Like who?” I laughed as the elevator doors opened. “Women like me who you used to fuck?”

I turned around and came face to face with a pretty brunette who had undoubtedly heard my last comment. An amused smile appeared on her lips, her gaze flitting between Brady and me.

“Brady,” she said. “You brought company.”

Oh, fuck. This was his ex-girlfriend, wasn’t it?

Brady stepped out of the elevator. “Tess, my sister Brooke Anderson.

Brooke, my new business partner-”

“Tess,” Brooke said, offering me a hand. “So nice to meet you.”

We emerged into an extravagant art gallery filled with people dressed in suits and gowns. A band in the corner played soft jazz, and bartenders walked around, handing out appetizers and flutes of champagne.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Nice to meet you, too,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sudden onset of my incredible embarrassment.

To my great relief, her smile appeared genuine. “Brady has told me absolutely nothing about you, so we’re going to put that on him because boys are dumb-that we can agree on, right? Business partner. I like the sound of that.”

I laughed. Warmth radiated off of her, a stark contrast to the chill that suddenly cast Brady. “Brooke, what the fuck is Christopher Quoil doing here?”

“You know he’s my friend,” Brooke hissed.

“C-christopher Quoil?” I stuttered. “Like the rapper CQChristopher Quoil?”

Brady looked surprised. “I would not have taken you for a connoisseur of rap music, Tess.”

“You’ve also never seen me working,” I said. “Inventing a product doesn’t happen overnight. Sometimes you need a distraction. And CQ’s music, that’s called a distraction. And what do you have against CQ anyways?”

“He’s just a dick,” Brady muttered. “Tries to outbid me at every auction just for the fun of it.”

“Holy shit,” Brooke said, looking at me. “Perkins Formula. That’s you!

Tess Perkins, duh. You are a fucking genius.”

I laughed. “That is an overstatement, but thank you.”

“No, I’m serious,” she said. “My mom swears by your cream. Like she won’t shut up about it.”

“It’s true,” Brady nodded.

Brooke took my hand. “You have to meet her. Let me introduce you.” “Meet her? She’s here?” I asked, glancing around the room.

“Yeah,” Brooke said, looking confused. She glanced at Brady. “Did you not tell her what kind of party you were bringing her to?”

A bartender approached us. “Champagne, Mr. Wyler?”

“No, but I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks,” Brady said. “Champagne,

Tess?”

“I’m good…hold on, I’m confused. What kind of party is this?”

Brooke grabbed the champagne glass off the waiter’s tray and sipped it.