Dirty Filthy Fix_A Fixed Trilogy Novella

by Laurelin Paige

  My heart was beating so fast I wondered if he could see my chest moving with its palpitations. Maybe he wasn’t even here to see Hudson. Maybe he had gotten the wrong office. I didn’t know if that would be better or worse. I was too off guard to know how to react.

  “I’m here to see Hudson Pierce. Nathan Sinclair.” He introduced himself in the same low, rumbling voice he’d used in my ear on Saturday. “Creative Director from Reach, Inc. I have an appointment.”

  I’d spoken to his secretary. I’d been the one to put it on the books. All the time I’d been thinking about him, he’d been scheduled to come here. How had it been so fortuitous that I’d met him—that I’d kissed him—only this weekend?

  It was kind of freaking me out.

  Although really, it shouldn’t be. This had happened before. There was one tech guy, a mogul from Japan. He’d been visiting on business. He only flew in to see Hudson Pierce, and his contacts here had ensured he ended up at a party. I sat on his face for three hours and then served him lunch in Hudson’s office the following Monday. I hadn’t had a second thought about it. My smile hadn’t wavered.

  But one amazing kiss from this man had me wondering about serendipity.

  Seriously, I was losing it.

  Okay, I could do this. “Yes, Mr. Sinclair. Right. Mr. Pierce is still finishing up with his two o’clock appointment. If you have a seat, he’ll be right with you.” I just had to remember that Nathan Sinclair had no idea who I was. I was the only one flustered.

  I didn’t know why the thought made me disappointed.

  “Thank you…Patricia,” he said, reading the name off of my desk tag.

  “It’s Trish, thank you.” What was I doing? I never corrected anybody on my name. Hudson Pierce himself still called me Patricia after all these years. Of course, he didn’t believe in nicknames, but that wasn’t the point.

  Actually, hardly anyone ever asked my name. The many rich interchangeable men that walked through my space didn’t care to call me anything but sweetie or honey or darling.

  That must have been why I’d told him. No other reason. Because he’d read my name plate. Because he’d bothered to try and find out.

  I watched my newly introduced stranger as he carried his portfolio bag over to the sofa, staring a little too long at his ass, my hands trembling the entire time.

  Focus, Trish, I told myself. Act normal. Do things the way you normally do them.

  What was it I normally did again?

  “Mr. Sinclair, would you care for a drink? I have water, tea, coffee…” I would try hard as hell not to repeat the same mishap that I’d had earlier with Mr. Stoker’s hot water.

  “Water would be excellent.”

  I slipped into the tiny room behind my desk, opened the mini refrigerator and grabbed an ice-cold bottle of water, holding it up to my face first. Maybe if I could just cool down a little bit... But when I stood and looked at myself in the mirror that I’d hung back there, my reflection was clearly flushed and dazed.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  I threw my shoulders back, put on my best grin, and reminded myself once more that Nathan Sinclair did not know who I was. I was the one with the upper hand, and that was all that mattered.

  I grabbed a glass, filled it with ice, and stepped back out to the waiting area. In several confident strides, I made it across the room to Mr. Sinclair and handed him the water bottle and the glass. “Here you go, sir.”

  I even managed to keep all the ice in the glass instead of spilling it all over the place.

  “Thank you.” He was regal and professional in demeanor, but his eyes were mischievous as they darted up to my face.

  Did that mean he had been checking me out when I wasn’t looking?

  It was probably nothing. But it made my heart hammer faster anyway, and it was already beating as fast as I thought it could.

  “Anything else, Mr. Sinclair, while you’re waiting?” Besides, you know, maybe a reenactment of Saturday night? Because I was about two seconds from losing all my hard-fought control and crawling into his lap. He was just as defined-looking in this suit as he’d been in the tux he’d worn on Saturday, and even more put together. More noble, somehow. More restrained.

  And he’d been quite restrained at the party, giving in only to a simple kiss the entire night.

  I can be that restrained, I reminded myself. Maybe he would show up again at this weekend’s party, and I could play with him then. And if he didn’t, I could take out all this pent-up desire on someone else. Chuck, or Kennedy, someone new, even.

  “Just one thing,” Mr. Sinclair said, catching me by surprise since I’d nearly forgotten I’d asked him anything.

  I perked up, giving him my full attention.

  “I was wondering how you could have possibly gotten an invitation.”

  In my world, the only invitation that mattered was to the Open Door. It threw me for a second, when my mind went immediately there. I was thinking as hard as I could, scouring my brain, trying to come up with some other event that he could be referring to, but I came up empty.

  “Invitation?” I asked innocently. Because there was no way he was referring to the party.

  “The Open Door.”

  Well, shit.

  I took a step back and pivoted, and then another step, this time forward. I was practically dancing, making tiny little movements with my hands, as I tried to work out how I was going to handle this situation. I’d never had anybody bring up the Open Door to me face to face, outside of the parties, and certainly not at my place of employment.

  I finally sank into the armchair next to him.

  “You can’t tell anyone about that. How did you know? I’m not supposed to go there. I’m not supposed to have those passwords. You can’t tell anyone. How did you figure it out?” I realized immediately that I’d probably given away more than I should have. I should have played coy, but he had me so flustered, so dazed. He had me so damn torn up and twisted.

  “Your ears,” he said, evenly. Lucky him, with no reason not to remain calm. “You’re wearing the same earrings you wore on Saturday. Even if those earrings were common, I like to think that profile belongs only to you.”

  I was blushing now. I wore these earrings all the time, short, dangly gold and diamonds. Nothing too gaudy or bold. But they were unique, and vintage. They’d belonged to my grandmother.

  And for the first time in ten years, someone had noticed them.

  I swallowed and peeked behind me at the door to Hudson’s office. It was still shut, thank goodness, but I had to be sure. Then I looked back into Nathan Sinclair’s mischievous green eyes.

  “I keep my business life and my private life very separate, Mr. Sinclair. I hope you understand that.” I had to bargain with him somehow. It was evident he had the advantage, but I had to try and regain control. In the last ten years, I’d only slept with a handful of people from the Open Door, and all before I’d made my list of rules. After that, I’d made sure that the only men I’d slept with were people I knew through friends, or work, or people completely disassociated with the club. “But I could make an exception if I had to,” I said aloud.

  “If you’re suggesting we barter,” Mr. Sinclair said, leaning forward, his elbows on his muscular thighs, “I think I could agree to something.”

  “I’m off at five. I could meet in the bathroom, or there’s a hotel just down the street…”

  Mr. Sinclair shook his head. “I’m not asking for anything that complicated. I’m not in the habit of forcing women into seduction.”

  Huh. That was disappointing for some reason. “Then what did you have in mind?”

  Under his beard, the short, boxed style that George Clooney made sexy, I caught the hint of a smirk. “I’ll take your panties.”

  “My panties?”

  His nod was short and subtle. “You are wearing some, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m wearing panties.” I scowled. What did he take me for?

  Tho
ugh, the idea of not wearing panties and sitting so close to him was doing weird things to my insides. Yummy weird things.

  I leaned toward him and lowered my voice. “If I give them to you, you won’t tell a soul that I work here and go to those parties? You’ll never mention it again?”

  “Cross my heart.” He had a dimple when he smiled. His eyes sparkled, and those tiny wrinkles at the corners made him dignified at the same time.

  Fuck, he was charming. Incredibly charming.

  I sighed to myself.

  After glancing around once more to make sure no one was watching, I stood up just long enough to slide my hands up under my skirt and hook my fingers around the elastic band of my lace panties, then I pulled them down my legs and past my heels. Wadding them into a ball, I handed them to him.

  “Here. Remember, you promised.” And then because I’d always been a little bit spiteful, I added, “To think—you could have had a blowjob. And I give awesome blowjobs.”

  His eyes were still wide, and my panties were still bunched up in his hand when I heard the door open behind me.

  I shot up off the chair, moving as quickly as I could to be a barrier between the people behind me and the man holding my underwear.

  “If you need anything else, Mr. Sinclair, do let me know,” I said, maybe a little too loudly. “But it seems Mr. Pierce is ready to see you now.” With my back still to my boss and Mr. Stoker, I indicated with my eyes that Mr. Sinclair better hide his trophy ASA fucking P.

  I needn’t have worried. He was as smooth as he was charming. Mr. Sinclair stood and stuffed the panties into his pocket with his left hand at the same time he reached his right hand out to shake Hudson Pierce’s.

  “Nathan,” Hudson said in greeting. “You found me. Glad we’re finally meeting to do business. Come on into my office. Patricia, can you make sure Mr. Stoker has copies of the latest Q3 reports before he goes?”

  “Of course, Mr. Pierce.” I scurried off, grateful for a task to focus on. I hurried and gathered the items Mr. Stoker needed and saw him off, trying not to dwell on the tall, dark, handsome man behind Hudson’s door, trying not to wonder what he was going to do with the panties now in his possession. Hoping beyond hope that I could trust him.

  Though somehow that wasn’t really a worry. I was pretty sure that I could trust him. Something about that grin, that dimple, the fact that he could have asked for so much more from me in exchange for keeping my secret—all of it said that he wasn’t out to ruin me.

  It was me I wasn’t so sure I could trust. I could barely concentrate on my work before he’d shown up today. How was I supposed to concentrate now that he was here in the office? With my panties in his pocket?

  How was I supposed to concentrate now that I was sitting at my desk with absolutely nothing covering my bare pussy but my A-line skirt?

  Thankfully, the phones started ringing, and I soon had enough on my plate to keep me busy while he finished his meeting behind closed doors. An hour later when he walked out with Hudson at his side, I’d almost managed to convince myself I was fine.

  Almost being the key word.

  “Patricia, please set up another appointment for Mr. Sinclair next week,” Hudson ordered, and my stomach lurched. He was coming back?

  He was coming back!

  “Of course.” I brought up my calendar while the two men said their good-byes, hoping if I worked fast, he’d have no reason to linger after Hudson went back into his office.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite quick enough. Hudson left, shutting his door behind him just as I finished saving the new appointment for the creative director in the computer.

  “Would you like me to email you a reminder, Mr. Sinclair?” I was busily making myself a reminder to call in sick that day so that I wouldn’t have this whole jittery flustered thing to deal with again.

  Of course, then I wouldn’t see him again. Was I ready for that? My hand hovered over the “send” button, unsure.

  But then the ridiculously handsome not-so-strange-stranger leaned close and said, “I won’t forget. I’m looking forward to it. As shall you.”

  “I shall?” I was under his spell. Captivated by his beautiful eyes.

  “Yes. Because on the day that I return, you are going to tell me what I did with your panties.”

  “I am?” My voice was so breathy, I sounded like I was starring in a porno.

  “Yes,” he said again. “Which means you have nine days to think about it. Nine days to get it exactly right.”

  I meant to tell him there was no flipping way I was going to keep playing kinky games at work, even if it meant he’d spill my secret and get me kicked out of the Open Door.

  But he was gone before I could remember how to speak.

  Chapter Three

  I skipped the Open Door party that Saturday night for the first time in a long time, not because I wasn’t feeling well or because I didn’t want to go, but because I was afraid I might see Nathan Sinclair.

  His parting words to me had been so tantalizing, so scintillating, it put me on edge for the rest of my week. Instead of feeling like I was the one who held the power with the man who’d only once walked in and out of Hudson’s office, I felt topsy-turvy. I obsessed, I fantasized, I daydreamed every minute my mind had to spare. I thought about Nathan holding my black lacy panties in his fingers, imagining new scenarios about what he could’ve done, would do—even what he might possibly be doing at that very moment. Was he smelling them? Was he fingering the lace in his pocket while he addressed someone else in the office? Did he put them under his pillow to sleep with?

  There were too many possibilities. One fantasy repeated. It was the one story that I kept coming back to when I touched myself, the one that I planned on telling him when he returned.

  Except I wasn’t going to be there when he returned.

  But I had to be there.

  I didn’t usually run from this kind of thing. A man? A man who wanted to play dirty games with me? A man who turned me on? Aroused me and made me rub myself to sleep every night?

  That was ridiculous. I lived all week to enjoy men just like that.

  Besides, his appointment was on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. With the long weekend coming up, there was no way I could take the day off. There was way too much to do. And, as much as I gave priority to my sexual drive, my job was also important. I was too much of a professional not to take my responsibilities seriously.

  Which was why I was mad at Nathan Sinclair.

  I’d never been this distracted while doing my job, and it was completely his fault. This was exactly why I kept my two lives so very separate. He’d become a hindrance to my career. And somehow, I had to turn the tables back in my favor.

  So I would be there on Wednesday when he arrived for his appointment. And I would tell him exactly what he wanted to know. But, by God, it would be on my terms.

  When I dressed on Wednesday, I wore my smartest outfit. My boots were knee-high under a tight pencil skirt that clung to my every curve. My blouse hugged my breasts and showed a little more of my cleavage than was maybe appropriate for an office setting, which is why I wore the jacket over it.

  I just planned to take the jacket off when Nathan was due for his appointment.

  Fifteen minutes before his arrival, I unbuttoned my jacket and hung it on the back of my chair. I made a whole to-do about it, waving at my face as though I was suddenly having a hot flash, in case someone walked by while I was taking it off, or in case Hudson had cameras I didn’t know about. It was unnecessary dramatic stuff, but it made the whole performance believable. And if there were any lucky security guards watching me go from secretary to sexpot, I definitely wanted it to look believable, and not like a seduction.

  Of course, if they’d been watching, they would have seen what happened last time, too. The thought gave me a little thrill.

  Nathan, the asshole, didn’t show up early this time like he had last week, much to my chagrin. Instead, he rol
led in exactly at his appointment time of four P.M., rushing with his portfolio in hand. He barely had time to glance in my direction before Hudson came out to greet him. He must have been waiting eagerly for Mr. Sinclair’s arrival, knowing he was the last appointment of the day. A long weekend with his wife and children beckoned, just as soon as he was done with this one last thing on his calendar.

  I scowled after them as they disappeared into Hudson’s office without a backward glance at my carefully designed outfit, wondering if I should cancel my plan altogether. On one hand, it was better that he hadn’t stopped to talk to me. That way, I didn’t have to make excuses or stall if he asked me about the panty scenario before his appointment.

  On the other, what if he wasn’t interested in my fantasy anymore? What if his kinky sex game was last week’s conquest, and this week he’d moved on? It wasn’t an impossible idea. In fact, the party where I’d met him was entirely based on shiny new things.

  Maybe I shouldn’t do it, I thought. I could just wait until he came out and then see if he was still interested. If he gave me the right look, then I would know for sure if my plan would work.

  But no, because then it would be too late to execute it.

  I had to figure out what to do now, while he was still in the office with Hudson. That was the only way this would work. I needed to make my decision immediately. What was I going to do?

  Before I’d figured out exactly how I was going to get away with my plan, or if my plan was even still a good idea, my phone rang. The light indicated it was Hudson calling from within.

  I picked up the receiver. “Yes, Mr. Pierce?”

  “Patricia, could you get Mr. Sinclair some bottled water please?”

  My stomach fluttered at his name. “Of course.”

  This was my chance. I’d get to interact with him and I could take the opportunity to see if he’d give me desiring glances of any sort. Lust is always in the eyes, and I consider myself an expert at recognizing it. Ten years involved with the kink scene teaches a woman a thing or two.