Bad Influence, page 23
She reached behind her back, unhooking the clasp and shrugging out of the straps. He came forward the second she peeled the fabric away, pressing his lips to her heated skin. “Yes.”
He sucked on one nipple, gently at first and then roughly, using his teeth and tongue to test the edges of her restraint. Sensation overwhelmed her, short-circuiting her brain until she was running on nothing but arousal.
“Do I need a condom?” he asked, snaking his lips back up her neck as he gently pushed her back to the bed. His fingers toyed with the edge of her panties, breaching the elastic to tease her with barely there strokes.
“No,” she said. “We didn’t last time, and I’m on the pill.”
Her eyes fluttered shut as he grew bolder, parting the lips of her sex and finding her clit. Each circular motion of his fingertips unwound her further and further, pushing deeper into sensation. How could she possibly let him go? How could she possibly wake up tomorrow and go on living, knowing this was it?
“If you want me to wear one, I will.” He speared her with a serious look.
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I trust you.”
He rested his forehead against hers as he teased her, switching up the slow, sensual spirals to slip a finger into her. He let her find the rhythm, only to pull out and return to her clit. The maddening back-and-forth had her hovering on the edge of release, so close. Yet so far.
“There wasn’t anyone else.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. “Since you left.”
“What do you mean?” His hand stilled.
“I haven’t…” Her eyes flickered for a moment, because eye contact was too painful. “There’s been no one else since you. Not a single person.”
Joseph pulled back, and Annie was sure he was about to walk away. God, why the hell had she said that? What could she possibly hope to achieve by telling him that sorry piece of information? He probably thought she was pathetic.
But instead of moving away, he came down over her, slipping his hands under her body so he could hold her tightly to his chest. For a moment, they said nothing. She let herself sink into the safety of his embrace, let herself be held.
“Can we pretend I came with you?” She pressed her face into his neck. “Please. Let’s pretend we didn’t screw up.”
“Okay.” His voice was hoarse. It was a sound she’d never heard before. Because Joseph could sound cold as ice; he could sound gravelly and sexy and powerful in bed. But never this…ruined. “We’re there now.”
He reached between her legs and wrenched her panties to one side. The head of his cock nudged at her entrance, his hips rolling as he positioned himself.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered. Her voice was so soft, she had no idea if he heard her words.
But as he cupped her face and slid into her with one smooth, deep thrust, she let herself sink into the fantasy. She let herself pretend that they loved each other, that they’d never been apart, and that once the dawn broke, everything would be okay.
* * *
Mysterious creator of Bad Bachelors rumored to be linked to young CIO hotshot
By Peta McKinnis, Spill the Tea society and culture reporter
Ever since the date-rating app exploded online less than a year ago, the world has speculated about who created Bad Bachelors and why. Early on, it was thought to be a publicity stunt. A genius piece of PR for a matchmaking service or possibly a women’s magazine. However, no company ever came forward to claim it.
Rumors also suggested that feminist blogger and women’s rights advocate Marsha Hinley might have been responsible. But while Hinley praised the app for promoting safe dating practices, she refuted all claims of involvement.
Thus, the creator of Bad Bachelors continued to be a mystery. That was, until our attention was drawn to a hacking website where a portion of the Bad Bachelors site’s source code was published. Hidden between lines of code is a message:
To Joseph, this is for you.
The post speculates that “Joseph” is none other than Joseph Preston—which appears to be based on a piece of information the source is not yet willing to publish. If you’re outside tech circles and the elite of the Upper East Side, you may not recognize his name. But he’s a high-profile bachelor, heir to a portion of the Landry Cosmetics fortune, and has recently been named the youngest CIO in JGL Bank’s history. In fact, he sounds exactly like the kind of guy we’d expect to be reviewed on Bad Bachelors.
However, Joseph Preston has only recently returned to New York from Singapore, after a stint with HSBC, according to his LinkedIn profile. Which may account for his lack of reviews. What remains uncertain, however, is who would have reason to dedicate Bad Bachelors to him.
Other than a brief engagement to Annika Van Beek, who you may know if you follow any top fashion blogs, Preston has kept his life relatively quiet. Recent hits on his name bring up interviews about JGL’s digital strategy and footage from a presentation he gave at a FinTech conference in Sydney last year. But nothing about his personal life, other than a statement from Van Beek saying she was single again back in September.
Is Joseph Preston the Joseph referenced in the Bad Bachelors source code? No evidence seems to suggest it, but the blogger who posted the code certainly thinks so.
What’s your take on Bad Bachelors? Have you used the site and found it helpful when navigating the dating jungle? We’d love to hear your stories.
* * *
Annie smoothed her hands down the front of her pencil skirt and practiced the breathing technique she always used before a big meeting. After saying goodbye to Joseph earlier that morning, and then spending all day in the office pretending like she wasn’t coming apart at the seams, her nerves were shot. Of course, someone had circulated one of several articles published that morning that linked to a blog post naming Joseph Preston as the person Bad Bachelors was dedicated to.
Mr. Justice hadn’t outed her yet, but the blog post was a show of force. A warning. He would pull the trigger.
Which meant she had to deal with the Bad Bachelors situation quickly. That morning, she’d fired off a response to the investor who’d written her about buying Bad Bachelors. Within minutes, she’d received a meeting request for that night. Not wanting to be ambushed in case this was another trick, Annie had set the meeting at a very public restaurant and given them a false description of what she would be wearing. She’d also given a false identity: Leanne Venturi. It was her birth name and a fake surname.
This was how she’d come to be sipping a glass of wine, alone, watching people coming and going from the bar. In other circumstances, she might have been excited at the prospect of playing the role of Bond girl. But her life was a pool of gasoline with a match hovering above it, so 007 fantasies would have to take a back seat.
The door pushed open, and a blustering breeze rolled through the front part of the bar. Annie was seated at the section closest to the door, wearing all black and blending into the background as much as one could without actually being invisible. A woman swept into the bar with an older man beside her. She wore a raspberry-colored coat with long, black pants that allowed only a peek of a pair of silver high heels.
Sasha Jenkins.
Several heads turned in her direction. At this end of town, the Financial District, Sasha was a celebrity. She’d grown up in Harlem, had cleaned offices in a few of the major Wall Street buildings while teaching herself computer programming. After mining Bitcoin in the days when it bore the bad stench of nefarious associations with sites like Silk Road and other shady corners of the dark web, she’d done what her parents had always taught her to do—save. When Bitcoin shot up in value, she’d become a multimillionaire overnight.
These days Sasha’s tech company boasted several successful start-ups—a social games company that helped pioneer micropayments, a dining and entertainment app that was Tinder for restaurants, and a high-end matchmaking software company. Undoubtedly, that was the reason Sasha wanted Bad Bachelors. It was the perfect platform on which to advertise her matchmaking business, targeting the burned-out victims of Manhattan’s dating jungle and offering them a low-stress alternative…for a fee, of course.
Sasha and her companion scanned the room and took a seat in the booth at the back that had a sleek, gold Reserved sign. A server immediately went over to take their orders. Annie counted to ten and then pushed off her barstool and made her way through to the back of the restaurant.
Sasha was reading something on her phone, her head bowed. Her tightly coiled black hair framed her face, where a pair of silver wire-rimmed glasses sat on her nose. The contrast of the light metal against her dark skin was dramatic and stylish, much like the woman herself.
“Ms. Jenkins?” Annie walked up to the table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Leanne.”
“That’s a strange-looking red dress.” Sasha eyed Annie’s black outfit. “I suppose Leanne Venturi isn’t your real name either.”
“No, it’s not.”
Sasha smiled and gestured for Annie to take a seat. The risk had obviously paid off, because she looked less pissed and more…appreciative. Begrudgingly appreciative, anyway.
“You can understand there are a lot of people who want to know who I am,” Annie said, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. They had enough privacy to conduct business, as long as they didn’t raise their voices. But it was also public enough that if things went south, Annie could disappear into the crowded room. “I can’t take any risks by outing myself to the wrong person.”
“I understand completely,” Sasha replied. “This is my associate, Mr. Hawthorn. He’s my legal counsel and personal adviser.”
The older man had shrewd gray eyes and a firm handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Venturi.”
“Likewise.”
“This is not how we normally do business,” he said. It was clear Sasha had demanded the meeting against his advice, but like a good corporate soldier, he was biting his tongue. Somewhat. “But Ms. Jenkins is very interested in acquiring your website and app.”
“I’m extremely interested,” Sasha said. “I admire what you’ve been able to build in such a short time. Many tech start-ups fail to gain even a fraction of your prominence.”
“Thank you.” For some reason Annie couldn’t have felt further from proud. What had it all been for if she was going to sell it off? If she was going to walk away with more money than she’d ever dreamed possible and nothing but personal destruction in her wake?
But what other choice did she have? The only way to get out of this unscathed was to either shut down the site or sell it off. And at least this way, Bad Bachelors would continue to help the women who relied on it.
But she wasn’t even confident of that anymore.
“There’s something you should know before we proceed,” she said. “The only reason I’m entertaining your offer is because there have been some challenges behind the scenes and I’m at a point where I have to admit I can’t handle it on my own anymore.”
Sasha cocked her head. “Go on.”
“My laptop was hacked recently.” She explained the situation in detail, including the dedication to Joseph and the request to shut the site down.
“That explains the fake description and fake name.” Sasha frowned. She thought for a moment, her hand toying with the rim of her glasses, her metallic polish a shade of pinky-red that matched her coat perfectly. “I’m under no illusion about the trouble Bad Bachelors has stirred up. It’s precisely why I want to buy it.”
“I know. But I also wanted to be transparent.”
“I appreciate that. However, I have an entire security team at my disposal. I also know how to throw a punch, if it’s required.” Her full lips pulled up into a smirk. “I’m not concerned about some loser who’s sniveling in his mother’s basement.”
There would be added advantages to the person running Bad Bachelors not having to keep their identity a secret. They could involve law enforcement. And there wasn’t much to leverage against them.
“We’ve drafted an offer document for your review, Ms. Venturi.” The lawyer slid an envelope across the table. It bore Sasha’s company logo on the front. “Take the weekend to read it over, and let us know if you have any questions. We’ll expect a final response by the end of next week, which will give you time to have a lawyer look over it.”
Annie nodded. “Thank you.”
“I hope you consider this offer seriously,” Sasha said. “You can do a lot with this kind of money. You can set yourself up for life.”
Annie placed her hands over the envelope. It was true. Money like this would provide security for her family, for herself. She could pay Joseph back for the apartment. With wise investments, she may not ever need to work again.
But instead of comforting her, the thought brought a tightness to her chest. How would she fill her days alone, without a something or someone to care about? Would selling Bad Bachelors make her no better than a corporate raider who’d preyed on people’s weaknesses to turn a profit?
“I’ll consider it,” she said, swallowing her worries.
The main thing you need to think about now is how to protect yourself. Your family. You’re buying a second chance.
But no matter how she rationalized it, the whole thing seemed totally and utterly wrong.
Chapter 18
“I don’t know how you can live with yourself.”
—AngrySister
It wasn’t until late in the evening that Joseph finally had the encounter he’d been anticipating all day. Despite feeling the constant prickle of people looking at him, no one had said a word about Bad Bachelors. If he was less experienced, he might have allowed himself the fleeting thought that perhaps it wasn’t a big deal. But he was smarter than that.
His boss, a take-no-prisoners guy named Thomas Fairchild, walked into Joseph’s office and shut the door behind him. He fit the stereotype of most executive officers at the bank—male, Ivy League–educated, edging into his sixties. But beyond that, he deviated in his thinking. Thomas was a disrupter, and it had been his plan to put someone fresh into the CIO role. Someone who would shake things up.
But the man was hard to read. Thomas crossed the room and popped the button of his suit jacket before sitting in one of the chairs across from Joseph’s desk. “You know what this is about, I take it.”
Joseph nodded. “Frankly, I was expecting to be summoned first thing this morning.”
“Too many people in the office.” Thomas nailed him with a sharp stare. The man was impeccably dressed—old-school banker shirt with powder-blue body and white collar and cuffs, subtle chalk-striped suit, silver tie bar. No doubt there’d be a Montblanc hidden somewhere on his person. “The last thing I want is to draw further negative attention to this problem.”
Joseph could handle this one of two ways: fall on his sword and hope for mercy, or go on the defensive. Something told him that Thomas wasn’t in a particularly forgiving mood.
“I had no hand in the creation of Bad Bachelors,” Joseph said, leaning back in his chair. First rule of going on the defensive: stay calm.
“That’s not what’s being circulated. I understand your assistant has been inundated with calls from the media all day.”
“He has. But that’s not proof of anything other than media outlets wanting to sell advertising. This whole Bad Bachelors thing has gotten a lot of attention, so they’re jumping on a piece of false information in order to further their own agenda.” Calm, blue ocean. “And we all know journalistic integrity isn’t what it used to be.”
“I don’t expect you to be glib, Joseph.” Thomas narrowed his eyes at him. “When I brought you on, I wanted to draw attention to our digital strategy by employing someone young enough to sell it. I did not want some someone who would be associated with this…controversy.”
“I’m not associated with it,” Joseph repeated. “If you care to look up Bad Bachelors, you’ll find that I am not reviewed on that site, nor is my name mentioned anywhere.”
“Except in the source code.”
“There are a ton of people named Joseph, for starters. And it could very well be doctored,” he pointed out. “How hard do you think it would be for someone with Photoshop to make a fake screen capture? I could walk outside and find a kid to do it in under a minute on his phone.”
Thomas considered this. “Why? What would be the point?”
“You said yourself during my interview that hiring me would ruffle a lot of feathers. Hell, that was the point of it. Do you trust everyone on the executive leadership team and the board not to stoop to this level?”
“You think someone is setting you up.”
Joseph had wanted to get out of this conversation without explicitly lying. “It’s a distinct possibility.”
But that doesn’t mean it’s the truth…
“There are plenty of other ways to remove someone from their position in this bank. Doesn’t that seem a little convoluted?”
“Not if you fire me,” Joseph said. “You’re the one who’s trying to shake things up. If someone sets me up, you’ll find a replacement to do what I’m supposed to do. However, if it’s proven that a younger person in this role is too risky, then you’ll be forced to go back on your plans and hire someone more in line with what the bank has always done.”
“And what’s that?”
“Hire someone like them who’ll want the same thing. Less friction, no one challenging the money they’re pouring into their pockets. No one trying to make them do things they don’t want to—like change.”
Thomas thought for a moment, his right hand going to the silver bar holding his tie in place and rocking it back and forth. He always did that when he was thinking. “Something needs to be done. We can’t ignore it.”
