Page 3 of Illicit Education

I made a mental note to get maintenance to address the old elevator before the end of the week. Being one elevator down would affect every employee in the building, but this was ridiculous. Plus, I realized, fixing the elevators would be a great show of character as I took over as my father’s successor.

My phone buzzed with a text alert so I retrieved the device and opened the message from my assistant, aimlessly scrolling through my to-do list for the day while my godfather continued grumbling.

Reed Enterprises’ legal team was already damn near out the door, and old man Rombauer could sense it. Though why he thought that treating me like an insolent child would garner the results he was after was beyond me. Despite his apparent beliefs to the contrary, I was not unclear about how much he loathed the way I ran things, or how much it irked the man that I’d managed to bring Reed Publishing to the forefront of the Reed family conglomerate without his help. Although he’d argued countless times with my father about allowing me too much control at too young an age—spouting silliness like putting me on a tighter leash—my father had allowed me the freedom to run Reed Publishing however I deemed fit, regardless of outcome–though I’m sure he thought I’d fail and was just giving me a shiny toy to play with–I had no doubt the man was now quite pleased with the fact that my publishing house had become the top earner among all of the Reed family holdings.

Still, the fact that I’d done all of this and achieved such successwithoutmy godfather’s legal advice was clearly still a sore spot, and one that would soon morph into a bloody, gaping wound when my father stepped down and I was no longer in control of the publishing company but ofallof Reed Enterprises.

Rombauer’s days were numbered and the clock ticked loudly in his ear.

“Cabot,” the old man snapped. “Are you listening?”

Not even a little bit.“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t address me so informally.” As if calling me by my first name only would keep me in my place. As if, because our families were so closely intertwined and he was my godfather on paper, I was not his equal.

If he thought he could berate and belittle me into keeping his firm on retainer after my father’s departure from Reed Enterprises, he was sorely mistaken. Although, frankly, it didn’t matter one way or another; the old man could stroke my ego and blow cotton candy up my ass and I would still move forward with securing new legal representation for the company.

After a moment of incoherent mumbling, Mr. Rombauer cleared his throat. “Listen, Mr. Reed–”

I smiled at the obvious strain in his voice as he addressed me properly.

“When my son has control of Rombauer & Sons, he’s going to want to know that he has your full support.” He’d taken on a slightly softer tone, a new approach tohandlingme, no doubt, but I need not be placated. My decisions where Rombauer & Sons were concerned were as good as final.

I rolled my eyes as he continued waxing poetic about his son. Nothing he said would matter, and he’d unknowingly traveled directly into the reason I would never do business with his firm once I was in charge of my father’s empire: his pompous son. Listing all of Roderick’s accomplishments and accolades did little to detract–ordistract–from the fact that he was an asshole. Roderick wanted my support? I held back a snort at that preposterous concept. As if I’d back a snake like him.

Rombauer & Sons would soon be cut out of the trusted inner circle of Reed Enterprises. We’d grown up together, which, instead of deepening bonds between bloodlines had provided me with a front row seat to every evil thing he’d done in his forty some odd years on this planet. Monstrous men like the Rombauers didn't deserve all they had–and certainly hadn’t come by it honestly–yet they were counted as equals among Rockefellers, Astors, and Vanderbilts alike. Respected. Feared.

Old money.

Dirtymoney.

I wanted no part of that.

While I waited for the elder Rombauer to grow tired of his monologue, I glanced at the woman standing beside me. I’d waited for her before I caught the elevator, curious to catch a glimpse of her after she’d nearly mowed me down in her haste to reach the restroom. Something about that interaction amused me, but even more intriguing was the way her eyes held such fire when they’d met mine. Challenge and defiance were bright in her dark eyes, things that called to me on a deep, primal level. Made my palms itch and my cock strain against my slacks.

I wanted to test that defiance, testher.

Find her limits, then make her beg for me to surpass them again and again. My cock jumped at the thought, so I focused on her reflection in the elevator doors instead of allowing my mind to create vivid imagery of her in precarious positions and various states of undress.

So focused on the stunning woman as I was, it took me a moment to realize the call had dropped. Silence was a welcomed relief. As my shoulders relaxed a fraction, I assessed the woman’s reflection, starting at the bottom of her small frame.

Low black heels indicated that she planned to do some walking. She either lived nearby or rode the subway. The understated suit implied she wasn’t trying to attract attention, though she had all of mine.

Her hair was pulled into a taut ponytail, the long, dark brown strands begging to be wrapped around my fist.

The conservative V-neck of her shirt didn’t hide the plump swell of her breasts, and as I dragged my eyes up to her face, I smirked. Seems I wasn’t the only one using the reflective elevator doors to secretly ogle another passenger.

Chapter Three

Rylan

Ignoring him was a silly notion. Impossible when he so clearly commanded the space around him and was one of those people who thought nothing of carrying on a phone call in the middle of a crowded elevator, so literallyno onecould ignore his presence. Although, he didn’t contribute much to the conversation, so the person on the other end of the line must be bored out of their mind.

Ugh.He reeked of wealth, that air of arrogance that said he either tended to hedge funds or milked trust funds. Possibly both.

Okay,fiiiiiine, he didn’treekof anything but lust and sex. His scent alone made me want to climb him like a tree. If I had less self-control, I'd rub up against him like a cat just so I could carry that scent with me the rest of the day. I licked my lips at the thought.

His shoes were obviously expensive, oxblood in color and buffed like he just paid some guy on the street for a shine–and probably ignored him the entire time. Dark gray plaid and perfectly creased down the center of each leg, his suit pants were exquisitely tailored to his frame. They fit him so well that they grew nicely snug around his thighs and–

My eyes widened appreciatively.