by Amara Kent
“Ooh, Natashya. Yeah, she’s a piece of work that one.” Brigitte shakes her head.
“You know Natashya?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not personally, but she’s called a few times. I’ve heard Nancy have a few heated conversations with her. She does not like that girl one bit,” she explains.
“I can see why. She is a woman that’s a little too possessive, and a little too delusional in her relationship with Mr. Lukas.”
“What happened with her?”
“I had the misfortune of meeting her in the bathroom where she felt the need to ‘warn’ me to stay away from him.”
Brigitte rolls her eyes. “My God, what a psycho.”
“You’re telling me, I couldn’t believe that she had the audacity.”
“What did Dean say?”
“I didn’t bother telling him. He was having a good night. I didn’t want to sour it because of some woman who can’t tell fantasy from reality.” My shoulders lift quickly.
“I hear that she tried to outbid you in the date auction.” Her eyes sparkle with delight and I smile at her eagerness to know how that involves Dean. I get it. He’s the most closed off person I know, so getting a tiny bit of light into who he is outside of work is too enticing to pass up.
“Yeah. She thought she could outbid me, but I knew that it would be a real problem if she won, so I just took the initiative and started bidding against her. There were quite a few women who had joined—and humorously enough, some men. You should have seen Mr. Lukas’s face—but they had dropped out when the bid became too high.”
“How high did it go?” she asks, wide eyed.
“One point five mil.”
“Holy shit! She’s not joking with her attraction with him. Should he be worried? She sounds like the stalker type.”
“She’s looking at stalker in the rearview. She passed that a long time ago. She’s just straight up batshit crazy at this point, in need of some psychological help.”
Brigitte throws her head back in a loud laugh. “Oh my God,” she says in between snorts. “You are hilarious.”
“So, do you think you two will actually go out on a date with each other?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I doubt it. That wouldn’t look so good if Mr. Lukas went out on a date with his personal assistant.”
“I don’t know, he isn’t one to back down on a contract, and he would have made a contract when he agreed to become an auction piece. Plus, I think that if there are any whispers, it happened the moment you bet furiously against Natashya.”
“The way she was being, I’m pretty sure people would understand it was for professional reasons, not personal,” I retort.
“You don’t know New Yorkers. I have no doubt there would still be people wondering if your intentions were, in fact, romantic.”
“Tiffany. Come into my office,” Dean orders through the intercom on my phone.
“Ooh, Mr. Lukas is calling. You better get in there quick,” Brigitte teases, wiggling her brows.
I wave her silliness off and head to his office, coffee in hand, not bothering to knock. Taking my seat across from him.
“Good morning, Mr. Lukas. What can I do for you?” I ask.
“I just wanted to thank you again for what you did for me at the charity ball,” he explains, taking a sip of his own coffee.
“And like I told you that night, you’re welcome. You need to stop thanking me.” I frown.
A tiny smile twitches up on his lips. “I know. I appreciate you saving me from her. She’s been a pain in the ass for me for some time, and I think she’s finally got the message to leave me alone.”
“I’m glad I could assist. If you don’t mind me asking, but how do you know that she’s got the message? Usually people that delusional keep up their delusion.”
“She messaged me and told me to leave her alone and how much of a pig I was in a very colorful way.” He chuckles.
Oh, you stupid, stupid man. She’s angry and hurt. She hasn’t given up on you.
Men like him are so happy to accept the words of women. They clearly haven’t figured out how deceptive we can be. How we can and will say whatever we need in order to get what we want. Not all of us are like that, but they do exist. Crazy people don’t stop being crazy. Their crazy only grows in strength, especially ones that have been pushed there. And no doubt, Dean is the one that brought her to the brink of insanity.
“I would still be careful. Right now she’s just hurt and angry. She could very well change her tune soon,” I explain.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Is that all, Mr. Lukas?” I ask.
“No. I was wondering what you were doing this Saturday night.”
My brows furrow in confusion on the outside, but smile widely on the inside. This is exactly the outcome I wanted. It’s what I was hoping for since the ball. “Um. Nothing. Why?”
“I thought we could go on our date,” he replies casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. As if this is our whole relationship.
“Oh, I… I didn’t think we would actually go through with it. I expected it to be just for professional purposes.”
“What, are you telling me that you don’t want to go on a date with me?” he asks with a smirk.
“Oh, believe me. I would love to see the kind of person Dean Lukas is out of work. I just didn’t expect you to want to do it.”
“Think of it as a thank you.”
“I think being able to meet Armond Boucher and present his new design to people was thanks enough.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his head cocks to the side.
There’s nothing wrong, but what kind of assistant would I be if I didn’t at least appear to be professional?
“Nothing, I just… is it okay to be doing this? You’re my boss and CEO of this company.”
He stands up and walks around and stands in front of me, his legs brushing up against my knees. He leans down, hands placed on both armrests and gets right in my face. I close my eyes and inhale his intoxicating scent. I’m not sure what he wears. It’s not one I’m familiar with, but it brings on an urge from me. I white knuckle my chair. Keeping myself from pulling his head down and kissing him.
“You didn’t seem too opposed to it that night when we were dancing,” he reminds me softly. His eyes bore into me and I feel a big lump in my throat that is hard to swallow.
“What would we do?” I ask a little too breathlessly.
A smirk graces his beautiful face. “That’s for me to know, and for you to enjoy on the night.”
“Are you going to at least tell me what I’ll need to wear?”
“Something that is dangerous,” he responds, before standing up and taking his seat again.
I place my daughter down in her bed, drawing her duvet up and gently placing it over her. I exit her bedroom and walk out into the kitchen where my mother is washing the dishes from dinner.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to. Things have been quite busy for you with the annual ball coming up soon. I wanted to make it a little easier on you,” she explains.
“Thank you.”
I sit down on the stool at the island, trying to figure out how I’m supposed to ask my mother to take care of Chloe this weekend. I hadn’t planned on going through with the auction date, but something inside me forced me to ask her, and once the question was out, I found it hard to take it back.
She’s not what I expected her to be, and I find myself growing attracted to Tiffany. I shouldn’t be feeling this way, but I have a feeling this isn’t like my situation with Natashya. Although, I didn’t think she would have turned out to be the psycho she turned out to be. There’s something about her. The way she holds herself and how dedicated and work oriented she is. The fact that she pushes herself to please me.
“Out with it, son,” my mother orders.
I chuckle. She knows me so well. “I’ll be stayin
g in the city this weekend. Are you able to take care of Chloe?” I ask.
“Sure. What do you have going on in the city?” she asks.
“The auction I was involved in for Armond’s charity ball,” I say by way of explanation.
My mother nods her head in understanding. I don’t need to say anything more. She knows my frustration at being roped into being involved.
“You be careful.”
“I don’t have any feelings for her.”
“I know. Just be careful. You don’t want her to think that you feel something for her when you don’t.”
“There’s no chance of that happening. She understands that this is purely a professional arrangement only.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” she comments, shutting off the water and wiping her hands with a hand towel.
The phone rings five times before I hear her voice come through on the other line. “Hello, Kathryn,” Skylah greets me.
“Hi, Skylah. How are you?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m good. How are you?”
“Good. Really good. I just wanted to give you an update to how things are going.”
“There’s progress?” her voice goes up at the end in excited question.
“Yes. As you know, I attended the charity ball with Dean where he was the main item in the auction for a date with a bachelor of New York. The woman—her name is Natashya—was there that night and I was in a furious bidding war against her. I happened to win, and Dean actually wants to go through with the date.” I gleam, unable to help the smile that has been permanently marked on my face since he asked me.
“That’s amazing!”
“Yes. I’m certain that I will be able to break through with him. I’m going to wear the sexiest outfit I can possibly wear to draw him into my web. Is there anything I can do to close the deal?”
“Um,” she says in thought. “He loves it when a woman goes commando. That will drive him insane.”
Commando. Very typical for the male species. It falls within the realms of the excitement of getting caught. When a woman goes commando, and the guy is aware, it drives their imaginations wild. It has their desire to fuck reaching new heights. They know they can’t screw you in public, so the thought that you are sitting across from them with nothing separating them and the gold between your legs, it creates a form of desperation amongst men.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“He likes it when a woman seduces him. He loves the thrill of the chase, when it’s the other way around. He doesn’t like to try to chase you, he loves it when you are trying to get him into bed. I don’t know what it is, but it sends him wild.”
I make a mental note of this. “Thank you very much from this. This is really helpful,” I thank her.
“You’re welcome. Good luck.”
I observe myself in the mirror. Even though I have perfectly suitable dresses hanging in my walk-in, I wanted to get a dress specifically for this. Twisting around, I check out my ass and breasts in the dress. Satisfied, I sit down on my bed and put my shoes on. It may be dangerous to wear the sexiest thing I can find for this date, but I figure this is New York. I can get away with wearing something alluring. A skin-tight dress that sits just above my knees, I wouldn’t be able to wear undies even if I wanted to. It’s the mistake I’ve seen time and time again. Women believe that wearing thongs will sort out the problem, but it doesn’t. You can still see the distinctive string of it sticking up through the dress.
When I’m done securing the straps to my heels, there’s a knock at my door.
Show time.
I collect my purse and sashay over to my front door, opening it. The look on his face is satisfaction enough for me. His smile disappears, and arousal covers the natural blue of his eyes, turning it into a deep blue, like the ocean.
“Well, hello, Mr. Lukas,” I purr.
“Hello, Miss Dunlop. Are you ready?” His voice is heavy with lust, creating a husky timbre that has me squeezing my legs in response.
“I am. Are you going to provide me with the details of where we are going tonight?” I ask closing and locking my front door.
“Don’t try to pry, you aren’t going to find out until we get there. Just know that I will ruin you for every other date you have in the future.”
We step into the lift and out to the private car he has waiting. A man with silver hair smiles at us, bowing and opening the door.
“Thank you.” I smile.
Dean gets in next to me. We pull out from the curb and are traveling through the city streets. I love New York at night. It springs to life. The lights, the sounds, the people. Times Square is a world in and of itself. No matter the time of night the lights are electrifying. The activity and hustle and bustle there makes you feel alive.
We sit in silence as we make our way through the city, and I don’t realize that we’ve pulled up to Chelsea Piers until we arrive.
My eyes blink rapidly as I try to assess why it is we are here. Dean gets out of the vehicle and comes round to my door and opens it for me. I take his proffered hand and he helps me out.
There are various boats moored here, and I look to see if there is a clue as to where we could be heading. Are we going onto one of those boats, or is he taking me somewhere else?
“We’re going onto that boat,” Dean advises, pointing to the most expensive looking one that is straight ahead of us. It’s not the biggest one, but you can tell it would have cost a fortune.
“Is this your boat?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to drive it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not driving it tonight are you?” I ask.
He chuckles. “No. I have a captain. Come.”
His hand heats up my lower back, as he guides me down the dock, helping me onto the boat. It’s absolutely beautiful from the outside, but on the inside it doesn’t even feel like I’m on a boat. A chandelier hangs down from the middle with a table sitting underneath. It’s set for dinner for two with a candelabra placed in the middle. The mood is very romantic. I don’t mention this because Dean is not the kind of person to take such a passing comment as it is. He would look into it as something deeper when it isn’t.
We walk over to the table. He pulls out my chair so I can sit. “Thank you. This is rather unexpected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I had no expectations for the night. I don’t know you that well, even though I work for you.”
“I figured that everybody else would take you to a restaurant, nobody would take you on a cruise around the city.”
“Well, it’s a very nice surprise.”
The whole dinner was amazing. He hired a Japanese chef for the night, and the food was… there are no words to describe just how exquisite it was. I recognized the chef as being the one from the sushi place near the office. They seem to be old friends, judging by how comfortable and familiar they were together. We’re standing outside, a wine in my hand, and a glass of tonic and lime in his; we look out at the water as the boat travels through. The wind blowing gently through my hair.
“This is a really nice night. Thank you for taking me out here,” I say earnestly. This is one of the nicest nights I’ve had in a while. I never thought it would be because of him.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ve never been on a boat before.”
This isn’t the slightest bit true. I’ve been on many boats. Never one this luxurious, but it’s not my first rodeo, so to speak.
“Really?”
“Why are you so surprised? Not all of us are rich enough to afford such luxuries,” I tease with a giggle.
“I wasn’t always as wealthy as I am now,” he provides. I turn to look up at him. He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he keeps his gaze out at the river. “I grew up poor. My father died when I was young and me and my mom struggled. In order to help her, I worked multiple jobs.”
I remain quiet, not wanting to disturb
this moment. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him so reflective and giving. It tugs a little at my heart at the sudden change in his behavior. He continues to provide me with this part of his past, and I find my eyes welling up from what him and his mother went through. The hardships, the struggles. It throws me into the memory of my parents and how hard it was for me and my sister to lose our parents. We weren’t young when we lost our parents, losing them both when we were adults and able to get by without financial hardship. While he hadn’t lost both, he did suffer.
I don’t know what propels me to do it. Whether it’s the emotional connection we unexpectedly have with each other or it’s the desire from seeing a part of him he hasn’t given anybody else. Maybe it’s seeing him in a light that isn’t a flirty asshole who only thinks about himself, but I lean up and I kiss him. He stiffens for a moment in surprise and then opens his mouth and allows me entrance.
Rule Number One: Don’t fall for the mark.
My mind reminds me, over and over again about my rule, but I ignore it. It’s as if it’s been said to me from a distance. I’m too caught up in this moment. Allowing the emotions to roll through and over me in massive waves as I claim him as mine. The connection is not soft, almost reverent, as his hands roam over my body, following its contours, finally landing in my hair and pulling me closer to him.
His kiss is everything. He tastes delicious and intoxicating, and my hands find his hair and grip tightly. My head becomes lightheaded and I feel dizzy, praying that my feet can hold me up.
He breaks the kiss, both of us panting.
“Should we go?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur.
“Then let’s get the hell out of here so I can have you.”
“Get on your hands and knees,” I command. She crawls onto the bed. I watch as her ample butt swings back and forth. She stops just enough for her feet to hang off the edge.
Flicking her hair to the side, she looks back at me. Her eyes are hooded, and her beautiful green eyes sparkle with desire. I trace the movement of her tongue on her lips with my eyes, and it makes my cock jerk with the image of those lips and that tongue working my shaft until I come.