by Alice Ward
“Only a few minutes.” Julia went up to the desk. “Hi, I was speaking to someone here earlier.”
“She’s gone on a coffee break. Can I help you?” the new woman asked.
“We’re looking for Ronald Weister.”
Nodding, the woman dialed an extension to Ronald’s office, but she set the phone down shortly after speaking with whoever was on the other line. “I’m sorry, but he’s in a meeting.”
“The mail man has meetings?”
“He’s not actually a mail man,” the woman said dully, looking at us with suspicion. “That’s the nickname given to the junior executive who’s the runner. His uncle is making him work his way up the company ladder. He does some of the accounting, but he mostly just runs around between the other accountants.”
“And his uncle is Mr. Weister?” she asked in confusion.
“No. His uncle is Mr. Shuster. They don’t have the same last name.”
I closed my eyes. Of course they didn’t. Why hadn’t we thought of that?
“Would you like me to leave a message?” the woman asked.
“That’s okay,” Julia said, backing away. “I’ll call him later.”
Outside, she fell down on a concrete bench, dazed. “We will never speak of this to anyone.”
Sitting beside her, I laughed. “I thought we did okay. We should spy on people more often.”
“We were terrible,” Julia said cynically, but she smiled. “I’m glad we did this. It’s good to know I can trust him. It’s hard for me to do that sometimes.”
“I’m glad too,” I said and playfully tossed her wig back on her head. “We should head to work.”
Tucking her hair neatly beneath the netting, she said, “Put yours back on too. The fun isn’t over yet. Let’s go to work like this.”
“How will we get through security?”
She held up her forearm. “That’s what the microchips are for.”
Needing some whimsy, I transformed into a blonde once more. “Okay,” I said, putting my sunglasses on. “Let’s see if we can shake things up.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
From my closet, I pulled out my blue skater dress, the outfit that had started it all. My old friend, I said, holding it up against me, preparing for a surprise date. If it had inspired Noah to give me a job the day of the interview, there was no reason he wouldn’t like me in it now. That was unless Julia had been correct when she said Noah had intended to hire me before I even stepped foot into Stafford Scientific, but that wasn’t an assumption I was willing to make. The implications of it were too overwhelming.
Stripping off the uniform of my work clothes, I put the skater dress on and covered it with a cardigan. The fabric may be made of cheap sandpaper in comparison to the garments Julia had picked out for me, but I no longer cared. I had to find a balance between my old and new life. This dress was that balance. Ignoring the heels on the floor, I pulled out a pair of ballet flats from a suitcase and slipped them on, completing the outfit.
“You’re wearing that?” Julia asked as I joined her in the front room. Standing in front of the mirror, she applied a dark red lipstick, preparing for her own date.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” I insisted.
“That’s not what I meant. It looks great,” she praised. “Good thing we’re about the same size. If you’re going to return to your old wardrobe, I can start stealing all the clothes Mr. Stafford was kind enough to buy for you.” She puckered her lips. “It was my evil plan all along. Be your roomie for free clothes.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I said lightly as the device on my wrist buzzed, telling me Noah was waiting downstairs. “Gotta go. Have fun with Ronald.”
In the elevator, knowing there would be another lesson, my hands began to sweat. After the night on the rooftop, I could only imagine what this one would be like. The sensation of his palm running down my spine as he took me from behind lingered across my skin, making it hum.
“Imogen,” Noah greeted me when I stepped outside, as he leaned against the company car, his suit as black as the vehicle, as black as the night. “You’re as gorgeous as ever.”
I could say the same thing about him. At times, I found his raging masculinity intimidating, reminded that he truly was the lord of his castle. Tonight was one of those times. It must have been the black suit. Like a black hole, it sucked me in, made me helpless to his every carnal command.
“What is the lesson tonight?” I asked when we were in the backseat of the car, his hand on my leg, lightly stroking the skin behind my knee.
“Experimentation,” he revealed. “How can you know what makes you feel good if you haven’t experienced the sun and the snow, the sand and the grass?”
I looked at him meaningfully, holding his gaze. “I think I know exactly what I want.”
His caress across the back of my knee quickened. “I’m glad you feel that way, but the lesson continues. Sometimes the choice isn’t either that or this. Sometimes the choice is that and this.”
“Doubtful,” I said, having an inkling of what the night was about. Recent history showed I had a very specific type. Sandy blond hair. Bright green eyes. And an overbearing personality, for better and for worse. With Noah, it was only for the better. No amount of experimentation was going to change that.
We pulled up outside the club with the curtains and the lotus blossoms. Mortified, I recalled how I’d tripped over the barrier post after running away from Noah and his seductions. Straightening my posture, I refuse to be that weak again. The tigress in me came out. Propelled to play Noah’s game, I would see his lessons through and enjoy myself in the process.
Taking my arm, as if we are arriving at a ball and not an underground cavern of fetishes and one-night stands, Noah escorted me into the club. It was all the same. The contortionist spewed flames above the crowd of dancers, who thrashed around like frogs in a pond. In some ways, this was a pond, a place to go fishing. A hunting ground.
“Do you see anything you like?” he asked, holding tightly onto me, as if he were afraid that if he let go, I would be swept away in the current.
Testing him, I pointed to one of the contortionists, a man with the chest of a bodybuilder. “What if I choose a guy?” I asked.
“That would break our agreement,” he said disapprovingly. “You must stay loyal to me, Imogen.”
I’d suspected as much. “But if I pick a girl, you’ll be disloyal to me.”
“Tonight is about you, not me. I won’t be touching anyone. This is your time for revelation, not mine.”
I smiled roguishly. “How do you know I haven’t experimented like this before?”
“Have you?” he asked casually, showing no reaction.
“No, not even close,” I answer truthfully, starting to wish he was a little more like Corey, that he wore his emotions on his sleeve.
“Does being with another woman go against any of your moral beliefs?”
“No, but it does go against our agreement. It’s still cheating,” I argued, unable to think of another word. We weren’t in a relationship, but whatever this was, it was meant to be exclusive.
This seemed to please him, but he persisted. “I’ll bend the rules tonight, for the sake of the lesson. So choose.”
As we circled around the club, I had mixed feelings. I had once been the prey, and now I was the predator. On second thought, in a club like this, everyone was the prey, and everyone was the predator. We were all here for the same reason, ruled by our desires.
When I failed to select someone, we climbed the stairs to the VIP section and stood on the balcony looking down at the dance floor. “You have a better view from up here,” Noah said, standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist so tight I could feel the magnitude of his manhood. “Who stands out?”
I leaned back into him and turned my cheek, rubbing it against the muscles of his chest. “How can you expect me to even look at another person when you’re standing so close?”
Without budging, his cock swelled behind me. “Try.”
Discouraged, I vaguely scanned the dance floor, uninterested until I saw a woman enter the club. Wearing a leather catsuit that hugged her form, her wavy hair was dyed dark blue and went down to her hips, reminding me of a comic book character. With no better option, I drew his attention to her. “She looks pretty badass.”
Pressing into me, he kissed my temple. “Then we should invite her to join us.” Snapping his fingers, he summoned one of the club attendants.
When the attendant handed the woman a piece of paper, she looked up at us with a lazy, seductive grin. Minutes later, she sat with us in the VIP section. Wedged between her and Noah at a table, I blushed, uncertain of what to say. The woman seemed completely at ease, dominating the air around us with her raw sexuality.
“You can call me Kay,” she said, fixing her attention on Noah. “And you can buy me a dirty martini. I like it dirty.”
“Don’t tell it to me,” he said, pushing my hair off my shoulder with a gentle affection that seemed out of place in the club. “Tell it to her. This is all about her.”
“Even better,” Kay said intently, causing me to shrink.
She must have sensed my intimidation because she immediately eased up. “I’ll drop the act. Clearly, naughty talk is not what you’re looking for.” Her eyes moved to Noah then back at me. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. I often see girls in here pressured by their boyfriends for a threesome. I’m game, but only if it’s what you truly desire.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mumbled, but I did feel better. I already admired her audacity, but her candor made me like her even more. My intrigue peaked. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Good,” she said, relaxing into her seat. She addressed Noah. “Forget the martini. I’ll have a beer.”
“Are you from Chicago?” I asked, realizing we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, not if we were ordering drinks. Well, she was. I was still forbidden to drink.
“Born-and-bred,” she answered. “My brothers actually went to boarding school with Noah here. Or is it Corey? I could never tell you guys apart.”
My mouth dropped open. “You guys know each other?” I asked, stunned.
“No,” she replied. “I know of the Stafford brothers, mostly from the events the boarding school put on, but they don’t know me.”
“It’s a big city, but it’s a small town,” Noah commented.
Strangely, it made me even more comfortable around her. We were both outsiders looking in. “Do you come to this club a lot?”
“Not enough,” she said wryly. “What about you?”
“I’m new to town. This is the second time I’ve been here, but it’s not really my scene.”
With the energy of a fellow tigress, she scrutinized me. “Are you sure you’re not just doing this to please him, the macho businessman telling the new girl what to do?”
Noah didn’t seem at all offended, but he answered for me. “Imogen does what she wants. She’s a rebel. I couldn’t tame her if I tried.”
Knowing how he thrived off structure, I wasn’t surprised that he thought of me that way, but I wondered if his opinion would change if he knew how much I wanted to settle down and live a peaceful life. “It was his idea to come here, but I freely followed. I’m curious,” I admitted, both to her and myself.
Reaching towards me, Kay seized a piece of my hair that I had tucked behind my ear and brought it forward so that it hung around my eyes, like hers did. “Then forget the beer, and let’s satisfy your curiosity.”
Pushing her chair aside, she sat on my lap, facing me. Nervous, my breath caught in my throat. I hadn’t expected to be doing this here, out in the open. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I only bite if you ask me to.”
Before I had a chance to reply, she lightly tugged on my hair so that my head tilted and she kissed my neck. Her lips didn’t have the same firmness as Noah’s, they were soft and delicate, like the lotus blossom. It was nice, but I didn’t feel any arousal.
Beside us, Noah watched, but I didn’t get the sense of a man who was turned on. He was more like my bodyguard protecting me.
When she kissed my neck again, I giggled. I couldn’t help it. But then I remembered the lesson Noah had taught me about releasing my inhibitions, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the tender caress of her lips against my pulse. It made me smile.
“That’s enough,” Noah said gruffly, standing. “The experiment is over.”
“But we just got started,” Kay objected, winking at me.
“You’ll find others you can play with,” Noah barked, insinuating it was somehow her fault any of this was happening.
“Is it over?” she asked me.
I cringed. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“Never apologize,” she told me firmly as she hopped off my lap. “Especially for someone else.”
“I’ll put a thousand-dollar tab on the bar for you,” Noah offered.
“Don’t bother. I’m here to have fun, not to be bought. I can pay for my own drinks. Later,” she said to me, smiling. Ignoring Noah, she returned downstairs to the dance floor.
Back in the car, Noah clenched his jaw, clearly upset. “We won’t be going back there,” he fumed, clicking his neck. It was not like him to show such emotion. I liked it. It reminded me that he wasn’t a sexy clone, but a sexy human being.
“Why?” I asked, challenging him, hoping I could get him to reveal how he truly felt about me.
“We just won’t. I’m done with that place.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Of course not. The opposite. I’m very much not mad at you, and that’s what makes me so frustrated.”
His answer wasn’t good enough for me. “That makes no sense, and you know it. We both know why we won’t be going back to the club. You just won’t admit it.”
He ran a hand through his hair, messing up his perfect style, but then he regained his composure, sitting up straight as he adjusted the sleeves of his suit. “That’s not what this is about,” he said, a statue once more. “This agreement is temporary.”
Blinking back the hurt I felt, I fell into silence. If Noah refused to express his true emotions, then neither would I. We could go on pretending that neither of us cared what happened after the year was over.
CHAPTER TWELVE
For once, the sun was out, shining over the land like the end of a fairytale. Limping, I dragged two cans of paint with me into the Stafford Estate. Jumping over the fence, I’d come off the hover board a little too fast and had crash-landed onto the lawn. The weeds and tall grass had broken my fall, and they’d also saved my paint cans from splattering everywhere. My intention was to paint the formal sitting room, not the shambles of the yard.
I’d been to Stafford Estate a few times, planning my visits around Noah’s schedule. With the World Science Convention around the corner, Noah was busy sitting in meetings so classified even I couldn’t attend. Not because he didn’t trust me, but because he was afraid of someone hacking into the system I used to take my notes and stealing the information. Thinking about it, I probably could have gone with him to the meetings if I’d asked, without my tablet, but I wasn’t interested. It suited me very well to sneak away to the estate. In many ways, it had become my refuge. Everything about my life in Chicago was ruled by the Stafford brothers. Getting the interview. Being hired. Even the apartment I lived in. Stafford Estate was no different, but out here all alone, my thoughts were my own.
Grunting, I set the paint cans down in the sitting room and sat on one of the couches to let my foot rest for a minute, recovering from my bad landing. In a previous visit, using a ladder I’d bought at a hardware store in the town nearby, I’d taped up all the crown molding in preparation for today. The walls had been filthy. Patches maintained the brilliant white they had once been, but years of neglect had mostly left them yellowed from dust. It had taken me forever to wash them clean.
Testing my ankle
to make sure it wouldn’t give out, I slowly stood from the couch and began to lay out newspaper on the floor then prepped the paint. All set, I grabbed a roller and applied the first streak. There was no going back now.
With Lake Michigan as my inspiration, I’d chosen a gray-blue color that was smoky and wistful. Like Chicago, Milwaukee was built off the shores of Lake Michigan. The lake was something Noah and I had shared in our upbringing, so I thought it the best color to use in the manor.
As I painted, I listened to a little portable radio I’d brought and danced around with my daydreams. One day, I’d be painting the front room of a house I owned with a man who wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. In my fantasies, that man was Noah. And the house I painted was full of sunshine, just like today.
Halfway through my efforts, I ran out of paint, having planned for a normal-sized room, not the high ceilings of a country manor. Picking up the lid of one of the paint cans, I snatched the hover board, returned to my hatchback, and drove to the hardware store.
For a small suburban neighborhood, the hardware store was pretty large. The needle in the haystack, I stood in front of the wall of paints with uncertainty. None resembled Lake Michigan.
“Can I help you?” a girl a few years younger than me asked. She was cute, with raven dark hair, freckles across her nose, and vivid green eyes that made me wonder if she had some family relation to the Staffords. I couldn’t ask, not without ruining my secret.
“Do you have this paint in stock?” I asked her, displaying the lid I had brought with me. “I bought this in the city but ran out.”
“No, we don’t,” she said apologetically. “But we can custom mix the color for you so that it’s an exact match.”
“That would be wonderful,” I told her. “Does it take long?”
“Only a few minutes.”
I followed her to a counter with a colossal mixer behind it and handed her the lid, which she scanned with a handheld reader. “It’s an interesting process how the computer registers the color,” she said. “With a simple scan, it tells me the exact blend of color I need to make the match.”