Going Down (Quickies #1) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Quickies Series #1: Going Down

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Author

  Quickies Series #1: Going Down

  Text copyright © 2014 Cassie Cross

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, weather electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Cassie Cross.

  Quickies Series #1:

  Going Down

  A Billionaire Romance

  By Cassie Cross

  CHAPTER ONE

  I really hated parties, but I loved my best friend Paige, which was why I was standing in the alleyway behind Azure—one of the hottest clubs in Manhattan—trying to talk Paige into breaking out of the shackles that were chaining her to her desk so late on a Thursday evening.

  “Paige, listen to me,” I said, trying to sound as patient as I could, even though I felt like my sanity was hanging on by the thinnest of threads. “We’ve been planning this party for two months. A group of our friends are inside the club waiting for you. We paid a hundred dollars for a bottle of champagne! You work your ass off, can’t you leave just this once? It’s your birthday; you can’t work overtime on your birthday. You only turn twenty-three once, and we love you. We want you here with us.”

  I pressed the palm of my free hand against my ear, trying desperately to block out the sound of honking horns and rowdy Wall Street types that liked to frequent this area of town after hours. Even through the bustle of the city around me, I still managed to hear Paige’s long-suffering sigh on the other end of the line.

  “Chloe,” she said with a hint of a whine. “I want to be there, okay? But Carter has a presentation tomorrow, and I have to get these slides cleaned up before I can go.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Paige sounded a little hesitant and a lot suspicious, which I supposed came from five years of friendship. She knew me like she knew the back of her own hand; she had to have known that I would never give up so quickly or so easily. If she’d gotten to be that gullible, then I definitely needed to get her out of that office for some much needed fun.

  “Yeah,” I replied, stalking out of the alley and shouldering my way through the crowd that littered the sidewalk. “Okay.”

  “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

  “No.” It wasn’t a very convincing lie, but that didn’t matter when I had my mind set on something, and I was getting Paige out of that damned office and into Azure to enjoy her birthday party if it was the last thing I did.

  “Chloe,” she groaned, exasperated. But I could hear the lilt of hope and amusement in her voice, and that was what pushed me forward to the curb, what raised my arm to hail a cab. Well, that and my pure, unadulterated rage toward Paige’s boss, one Mr. Carter Armstrong.

  Paige was ten times as ambitious as I was, which was saying something, and she seemed to have a bit of a masochistic streak too, working for a man who thought that just because he was born into a certain family that everyone on the planet existed purely for his benefit. Because Carter? He came from money. Not new, house-in-the-Hamptons-and-a-yacht kind of money, but old money. The kind of money that put the Armstrong family name on public libraries, hospital wings, and museums. Legacy money.

  Now, I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Carter just yet, but I had learned everything I needed to know about him from listening to Paige gripe about him when she’d shuffle through the front door of our apartment after a long day at work. Supplemental material was occasionally provided by the society pages of the Post.

  The thing that really grated on me about men like Carter was that they walked around like they owned the world, like the people living in it owed them something. Sure, with Carter there were heart-stopping good looks along with the chiseled perfection that was his body, but he was just your typical, run-of-the-mill-billionaire, right? Surely he’d recognize the value in a good business proposition, which was exactly what I was going to give him.

  When my taxi pulled up in front of the Armstrong building, I was feeling a little on edge; the adrenaline coursing through my veins had set my heart racing. I loved a good confrontation, especially with someone who had it coming to them like Carter did. I pushed the door open before the cabbie even came to a stop, slipping him enough bills to cover my fare before I slid out of the car and ran up the steps, yanking the large glass door open and stepping through.

  I handed my ID to the security guard manning the desk, then angrily attached the visitor’s badge he gave me to the collar of my new pink top, hoping the little claw-like clasp didn’t leave too much of a mark.

  I stomped my way to the elevator, then pressed the up button repeatedly with fervor.

  “You know, pushing’ that thing fifty times isn’t going to make it come any faster,” the security guard hollered, his voice echoing through the lobby. He had a friendly smile that soothed my frazzled nerves, and made me smile too, for what seemed like the first time all night.

  “I know,” I replied, smoothing my hands down the front of my skirt. “But it makes me feel better; helps channel the rage.”

  The guard let out a low, rumbling laugh. “I’ve been there. I hope your night gets better, but seeing as you’re going to the thirty-fifth floor, I doubt it.” He gave me a conspiratorial wink, and there was something nice about knowing that this guy wasn’t a fan of good ‘ol Mr. Armstrong, either.

  After an elevator ride that seemed to last for an eternity, I stepped foot into the offices of Anderson Technologies. I had only been in here once, and I wasn’t surprised to see that the sterile, impersonal feel that I remembered was still in full-effect. It was the kind of office you’d expect for a tech giant’s headquarters, all sleek lines and minimalist furniture. There was a hideous egg-shaped statue in the middle of the lobby for crying out loud, and I was reasonably sure that the ugly thing cost more than my first semester’s tuition at NYU. The fact that someone would spend money on something so visually displeasing only added more fuel to my rage.

  The entire office was dark, save for the soft light emanating from Paige’s desk in the far corner, and just past that I could see Carter’s large, cherry wood door slightly open. I kept moving forward, and the further I ventured, the warmer it seemed - much less clinical. Carter Armstrong hired designers who knew how to appropriately light an office, I’d give him that.

  After I cleared a row of low-walled cubicles and finally saw Paige all hunched over her desk, stress just rolling off of her, my heart broke. Obviously tired, she looked completely uncomfortable and just…completely done. Not at all the way a twenty-three year-old woman should look on her birthday.

  “Paige,” I said quietly.

  Her head snapped up, and for the faintest second I saw a flicker of happiness flash across her face, but it didn’t take long for the worry to settle in.<
br />
  “You shouldn’t have come, Chlo.”

  “And you shouldn’t be here at nine-thirty on your birthday. Work is important, but so is your life,” I told her as I sat down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of her desk. Once I was settled, I handed over the sparkly purple gift bag I’d been clutching since I left the club, hoping it would serve as a peace offering for doing what I was about to do.

  “What’s this?” Paige asked, and I was relieved to see that she was starting to smile.

  “It’s the first of many presents. This is a little one, for sentimental reasons.”

  Paige pushed aside the tissue paper and peered inside the bag, her smile growing into a full-blown one. She laughed as she pulled out a small bottle of white zinfandel. “Awww,” she cooed. “It’s our drink of choice!”

  Years ago, when she and I had finally settled into our dorm room and unpacked the last of our boxes, we huddled together on Paige’s bed on our first night away from our families, and we shared a tiny bottle of white zin that we’d found tucked away in the bottom drawer of the otherwise empty dresser in our room. We shared that bottle of wine as we got to know each other, our budding friendship erasing the loneliness of being in a new city. We’ve been nearly inseparable ever since, and I hadn’t let her down yet. I wasn’t about to start doing it tonight.

  Paige tore through the rest of the tissue paper in the bag and squealed with laughter. “What’s this? A tiara!”

  “Put it on,” I told her. “I’m busting you out of here.”

  “Chloe, no!” Paige whispered, but it was too late; I was already pushing my way into Carter’s office.

  The following didn’t happen exactly the way I had planned. I had expected for my overwhelming annoyance to make this confrontation easier, what I hadn’t expected was for Carter Armstrong to be so, well…captivating in person.

  My breath caught when I stepped into the room and saw him. Behind a large desk—all gorgeously lit by the soft glow of the lamplight in front of him—was Carter Anderson in all of his GQ glory, and wow, pictures just did not do him justice. It was then that I felt the first traitorous pull at my heart, because I shouldn’t be finding this man so attractive, not after the way he treated Paige. But his whole existence in that moment was like a laundry list of Chloe Moore’s Favorite Things:

  Tall and ruggedly handsome? Check.

  Crisp white shirt undone at the collar with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows? Check.

  Steel blue tie halfway undone around his neck? Check.

  Five o’clock shadow? Check.

  I felt a little swoop in my belly, one that stretched all the way out to my fingertips. It was an odd sensation to have after I’d spent so much of the evening angry. I still was angry, but now I had this intense desire to both yell at him and put my tongue in his mouth. Basically, the thoughts I was having about this man were obscene in many, many ways. And it was so cliche, you know, that being in such close proximity to someone like Carter Armstrong could make my anger melt into lust so suddenly, somehow making the two of them almost indistinguishable from one another.

  He hadn’t even acknowledged my presence and I was already wondering what the smooth wood of his desk would feel like beneath my palms as he bent me over it, and oh god my thoughts were getting dangerously close to being X-rated. That wouldn’t be a bad thing per se, if it weren’t for the whole trying-to-get-my-best-friend-out-of-work thing. I needed to keep a level head here. Surely I could manage to do just that for at least a few minutes, right?

  I nervously cleared my throat, trying to distance myself from my increasingly dirty mind and steadily growing libido.

  Then, Carter Armstrong had the nerve to look over at me and smile like he wasn’t even surprised to see a stranger in his doorway. It was a disarming smile, one that made it difficult for me to focus. What was I here for again?

  “Miss Moore,” he said as he stood, pressing his tie against his chest with his right hand. Huh, maybe he wasn’t surprised to see a stranger standing in his doorway after all.

  I blinked. “How did you-”

  “I own this building, and I employ the security guards who protect it. You think they don’t call me when a beautiful, angry blonde is on her way up to my floor?”

  I sighed, all the dirty thoughts flying right out of my mind as I remembered who it was I was talking to. Evil-empire-owning Carter Armstrong. Doesn’t-care-about-anyone-but-himself-Carter Armstrong. Cocky Carter Armstrong.

  No. No, I needed to think of another word to use besides ‘cocky.’

  “I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve had an angry blonde in your office,” I said with a smirk.

  Carter laughed, and it was kind of sexy. Okay, it was a lot sexy, and I could begrudgingly admit that I wanted to hear it again.

  “Beautiful angry blonde,” he corrected, his eyes soft from his smile.

  Ah hell. I knew I was in trouble.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “So, Miss Moore. What can I do for you?” Carter asked, leaning over his desk, spreading out his palms. It wasn’t unlike the position I imagined him putting me in just a minute or two ago, and I had to fight the blush that I knew was spreading up my neck and across my cheeks. He had a way of looking at me, with an intensity that made me feel like he knew what I was thinking.

  “My name is Chloe,” I told him, my voice as steady as I could make it. “And I’m here because today is Paige’s birthday, did you know that?”

  Carter straightened and took a deep breath, shrugging as he adjusted his tie. His eyes shifted down, hiding what would almost pass for a guilty look in his eyes. I would’ve believed that he didn’t know if it wasn’t for the several bouquets of flowers on Paige’s desk and the balloons tied to the back of her chair. No man made the kind of money Carter did by being oblivious to things, especially ones that were right there under his nose.

  “No,” he replied. “I didn’t.”

  I gave him my best ‘I know you’re bullshitting me’ look, my eyebrow raised as I studied him.

  “The flowers and balloons at her desk didn’t give it away?” I asked, crossing my arms. He looked down, following my movement, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think he was checking out my breasts. Just the thought of it sent another warm flush through me, and I shifted my weight to help stave off the nervousness I felt bubbling up inside of me.

  Carter shrugged, his eyes raking over my body until they met mine. “I thought maybe a boyfriend was apologizing for something.”

  “Is that how you make up with your girlfriends? Flowers? Balloons?” Everything generic, is what I wanted to say, but didn’t.

  “No,” he replied, shaking his head as he stepped around his desk, walking toward me. “I don’t have a girlfriend, but if I had something to apologize for, I’m sure I could think of something more original than an office full of flowers and balloons.”

  I felt the sudden urge to make him angry enough to have to apologize for something; I wanted to see what would pass for ‘more original’ in his book.

  “I bet you could,” I said, sounding more exasperated than I had intended.

  Carter came to a stop a few feet in front of me, and the air between us was electric. I noticed that his breathing picked up, guessed maybe he could feel it too. That was ridiculous, wasn’t it? By virtue of having a vagina, I was probably at the top of the list of people who should be swooning over Carter Armstrong. But the mere thought that I might be having an effect on him too? That was more powerful than an aphrodisiac.

  “I suppose you’re here to negotiate a release of some sort?” He sounded like a total asshole, and I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped my mouth. It brought out a maddeningly beautiful smile on Carter’s perfect lips.

  “You could say that,” I said, taking a step forward.

  “What exactly are you offering?”

  “I want you to let her leave. Our friends and I spent two months planning a party for her, and she’s missed too much of
it already.”

  Carter took a deep breath and slid his right hand up his forearm, probably trying to divert my attention, the tricky bastard. It worked, too, and I let myself enjoy the tanned, muscle-y view for a few seconds before my gaze drifted back up to meet his.

  “That sounds like a great deal for you, but what’s in it for me?”

  “I’ll stay here and finish her work.” I shrugged, trying so hard to be nonchalant about the whole thing. Carter struck me as someone who could probably smell fear and desperation, and I got the feeling that if he knew how badly I wanted this, that he wouldn’t let me have it.

  He looked at me a long while, his piercing green eyes making me nervous, but I refused to look away.

  “I’m afraid I can’t accept that offer,” he replied with a smirk.

  My eyes narrowed, and I didn’t even try to conceal the fact that I was offended. “I graduated at the top of my class at NYU, Mister Armstrong. I’m completely capable of polishing up a presentation.”

  He had the nerve to actually grin. “Call me Carter. And I’m sure you’re capable of doing a lot of things, but I’m looking for something more.”

  I inhaled a surprised, sharp breath, and I know Carter heard it. We were standing too close for him not to, and besides, the way his smile grew wider gave him away. I couldn’t tell if he was flirting, or just messing with me. Either way, he was enjoying the hell out of it.

  He slowly moved closer, erasing the already small space between us, and there went my breathing, again. It seemed like my lungs were having as much difficulty keeping themselves under control as the rest of my body was. I bit my lip, worrying it between my teeth to keep myself from saying something stupid while I thought of how I should respond to that. In the end, I decided to keep it simple.

  “What do you want? Name it. I’m not saying I’ll agree, but-”

  “You’ll agree,” Carter said.

  He was so close I could smell him, just a hint of soap and a little aftershave. Subtle, nice. It was a smell that made me want to get closer still.