by CC MacKenzie
And Marcus hadn't got what he needed, namely signatures cementing the deal.
For the life of her Anais couldn't remember what had been said in the last ten minutes.
Anais understood how the power game was played. The Chinese regarded her as a weak link in the corporate armour of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch. She knew the aide was only obeying orders, to throw her concentration. And he'd succeeded. It shouldn't have upset her so much, but it did. She felt embarrassed. After all, she was only human. And after days of tense negotiations, of living in such close proximity with the Gillespie brothers, she was stressed.
She was tired. Plus, she couldn't do anything about the horrible nerves fluttering like bats in her belly.
The Chinese diplomats rose.
And so did Marcus and his team.
Anais managed to swallow a sigh of relief that the seven-hour meeting was over.
It hadn’t gone well.
Oh God, the whole day had been a disaster.
She shouldn't have come.
As they took their leave, the Chinese delegation bowed to the tall man standing to her right and shook his hand. He was too much of a professional to show it, but Anais had worked with him long enough to recognise the infinitesimal signs of displeasure in that poker face. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to work out that her boss was... irked. The body language said it all.
Taking a deep breath she chanced a look at the cement set of slashing cheekbones, the narrowing of those blue eyes that had gone almost black and the tight set of that wide and sensual mouth.
Yep.
He was angry.
Beyond angry.
With her.
The edgy nerves in her gut wound it even tighter.
She might not understand how she'd messed up, but she had.
Big time.
The contracts were still not signed, which meant they wouldn’t be returning to the headquarters of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch in New York anytime soon.
Why the hell had she slipped up today of all days?
In a few short hours she expected to hear confirmation she’d made junior partner to be announced. Now she had the horrible feeling, she'd blown it. Anais had known going in that the six months probation period was excessive but she'd been taught to only work for the best. For too many years she’d sacrificed family life, friendships, and even love, to get to the top to fail now.
He led the way out of the hotel conference room and stalked before her towards the elevator, like a big black panther.
In four-inch heels, Anais found her feet matching the beat of her frantic heart in an attempt to keep up with Marcus's ground-eating stride. She could just imagine the picture she was presenting to the Chinese delegation, running after her boss like a naughty little puppy. The picture in her mind annoyed her so much that she deliberately took her time and slowed her pace.
Marcus didn't look at her as he waited until she entered the elevator before pressing the button. The clear glass doors closed to whisk them to their penthouse suite. Never a man to indulge in small talk Marcus ignored her now as he scrolled through messages on his cell phone. The atmosphere between them was so thick with tension that Anais fought to keep her breathing steady. Close proximity to Marcus was something Anais struggled with and found difficult to handle. It was something she did her level best to avoid since there were times when he helplessly mesmerised and discomposed her. It was the sound of his deep voice, with the toe curling Scottish accent, which seemed to trigger something very strange in her blood. A sort of low and liquid longing deep in her belly that she'd recently found harder and harder to control. Anais regarded herself as an intelligent woman who understood the laws of attraction, that it was made up of chemistry, pheromones and what those secretions could do to the human body.
The trouble was that around Marcus her body appeared to have a mind of its own.
She'd no idea what cologne he wore. Whatever it was he always smelled mouth wateringly divine. And in the confined space that scent seemed to deepen.
Her nostrils flared gently as she indulged herself for a moment and took a careful inhale.
The essence of a healthy male in his prime mingled with a seductively erotic scent that made her close her eyes. She opened them fast when she found her body swaying towards him. How many times had she wondered what he would taste like, what he would feel like buried deep...
Her nipples hardened too tight, too fast.
God, Anais, get a grip.
When her womb clenched, in her head she chanted the periodic table in a desperate effort to distract herself, but it was no use and the insistent liquid throb low in her belly made her tighten the muscles in her thighs.
When she'd first started working for him, Anais reckoned she’d drawn the short straw by being appointed as an assistant to the charismatic Marcus Gillespie. His arrogance and domineering nature were legendary. However, she'd learned so much in the time she’d worked with him and his team. Through sixteen hour days, seven days a week, Anais had come to realise she was in fact very lucky. Marcus tested her mind and her resolve and her values. He was deeply interested in her work and guided her with a firm hand through the minefield of corporate strategy and politics.
Everything would have been fine… except... for the edgy feeling that lived in her gut.
More than once she’d felt him staring at her with eyes that appeared darkly brooding at times. She'd never caught him, but the hair on the nape of her neck always rose when she just knew he was watching her. If her dreams were filled with all the wicked things he’d do to her body then, again, that was her problem and not his. But the trouble was that since they'd arrived in China those dreams had become darker, more erotic, in ways she couldn’t explain or understand. Just two nights ago she’d woken up in a cold sweat with her heart trying to burst through her ribcage. She’d slapped on the light, raced to the bathroom to check that her neck was truly in one piece and that he hadn’t bitten her. God, she'd been watching too many vampire movies. Even more shocking had been the brutal yearning beating a liquid heat low in her belly.
The aftermath of the nightmare had lasted through a cold shower and yet another sleepless night of the horrible ache deep in her womb; a need, a hunger that she couldn’t comprehend.
Anais blinked as the temperature in the elevator dropped by a good ten degrees.
Even though they didn’t speak, the strain between them was a living, choking entity.
A cold sweat broke out above her top lip as the doors opened and Marcus strode out ahead of her.
Chapter Two
Marcus swiped the key card and swept through the double doors of the suite.
Pacing to the floor to ceiling windows, he tugged off a conservative tie of blue silk and undid the top three buttons of his pristine cotton shirt, then he shrugged off his bespoke suit jacket.
Anais had never seen him like this.
If there was one thing Marcus was famous for it was his self-control and granite features that never showed emotion.
But now he turned to her.
Those amazing eyes narrowed into slits as they met hers.
When she’d first seen his face Anais had been awestruck by a raw masculine beauty rarely seen outside of glossy magazines. She couldn’t decide if he had the face of a Celtic warrior, all angles and plains with a determined jaw, or the sculptured and deeply brooding face of a fallen angel. Over the months she’d worked with him she’d come to realise that within him Marcus had a bit of both.
He was an enormous, powerful man with wide shoulders. To cope with the stress of his chosen career, Anais knew he worked out daily in the company gym. He might be toned and built but he was also long and lean with narrow hips and a tautly flat stomach.
Hair the color of jet was swept back from a high forehead.
That strong jaw was clenched now.
Anais placed the boxes of files she was carrying on a side table and wiped her damp hand down the side of he
r Armani suit.
"Place the do not disturb sign outside the door. Double lock the door," he ordered. His voice was deep, a powerful bass. The Scottish accent sounded stronger as it vibrated, shimmering through her system in a way that made her mouth go bone dry. The pretty girls in the administration group of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch always said Marcus's voice alone made their knees go weak and Anais knew exactly what they meant.
However, Anais didn't do weak knees and she'd be damned if her knees were going to start letting her down now.
He moved to stand behind a wide desk.
Anais did as she was told, placed the sign outside, double locked the doors and walked back to stand before him.
Those blue eyes found and pinned hers and her palms went slick again.
"What on earth were you thinking, woman?" His temper was up.
Since Anais wasn't quite certain exactly what she'd done, she kept quiet. And all the while her mind raced, as it flew back to the events of the meeting.
True, she had lost her focus, but only for a split second.
At the time Marcus had been speaking to the Chinese minister of commerce.
She’d only handed him a file.
And then reality smacked her hard. Dealing with the culture differences, the way the Chinese did business, was like doing an intricate and complicated little dance, it was all in the timing and in the give and take, and how each side spun a point to the other.
Now she frowned as she realised that Marcus hadn’t given her the signal, the little flick of the wrist, which would have warned her the time was right to take the next step. She’d handed him the file too soon because her attention had been diverted by what the aide had called her, a jianhuo. And to distract herself from the sting of the hurt, and from making a fool of herself by scrabbling around on the floor to pick up documents and papers, she'd sat down all hot and flustered and found herself focused, helplessly fascinated, on Marcus's beautiful hands with their strong fingers and trimmed nails and just what those hands could do to her body.
Abruptly Marcus stepped around the table, into her personal space.
His big hands grabbed her shoulders and it was all she could do not to swoon to the scent of his signature cologne and a furiously healthy male.
"I asked you a question."
She’d never been this close to him before and she shivered in reaction.
Strong fingers dug into her slim shoulders.
Anais tipped her head back.
Her eyes clashed with his.
Behind his glasses his eyes were more brilliant, and she realised with something like shock, they were the color of the deepest sapphire blue.
Then her gaze dropped to his wide mouth with that sensual bottom lip and she nearly whimpered out loud.
She cleared her throat and took a breath. "I messed up."
His wide chest heaved as he gave her a little shake.
"Do you realise how much a delay will cost?"
She did realise.
A delay might cost millions.
"I’m sorry," she whispered.
Even though the situation she now found herself in wasn't her fault, and for Marcus to blame her was unjust, unfair, Anais knew it was all over. Mistakes were not tolerated in Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch. Marcus, his brother James and Anais were in China representing their biggest account, the pharmaceutical company belonging to Constantine Mabille. Billions of dollars were at stake. As the most junior member, Anais would have to take responsibility, take the fall, for any postponement in the signing of the contracts.
Her heart almost broke for the disappointment she was going to inflict on her elderly parents. They’d each worked two jobs to put her through her law degree, celebrating every single step of her achievements. The couple had virtually built a shrine to her in the sitting room of their small three bed roomed house.
Her eyes filled.
She’d let them down.
Her shoulders slumped.
All those years, all that work, and it had been for nothing.
She was finished.
"You know the rules?" Marcus's deep voice vibrated through her.
A heavy stone of bitter disappointment weighed too heavy on her chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.
The whole thing was so terribly unjust.
Biting so hard on her bottom lip it bled, Anais simply nodded.
‘One strike and you’re out.’ The words Marcus had spoken the day she’d first stepped into his office rang in her brain, which was why Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch were the best in the business. Every partner had to be at the top of their game.
She desperately wanted privacy, to weep, but Anais understood that now was not the time to break.
She'd have plenty of time for a pity party later.
Instead, she jerked up her chin, unflinchingly met his eyes.
"I understand."
Then his hands slid down her shoulders and gripped her elbows.
Those dark eyes changed.
"I asked you a question. What was going through your mind?"
How could she tell him she'd been dreaming of his hands on her?
Heat scorched her cheeks, but Anais found she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his.
His touch, even through the fabric of her suit, seared her flesh and something like panic rose into her throat.
However, she couldn't help the wave of frustrated fury that also swept through her system.
She wanted to cry out, 'I'd just been called a whore.'
His eyes went wide.
The ridiculous sensation swept over her that he could read her mind.
'Fight, woman,' a voice abruptly demanded in her mind. 'Fight for what you want. What do you have to lose?'
Annoyed by how he was holding her, by how he was looking at her, Anais reeled out of his grip and then spun back to face him.
She never lost her temper.
Never.
But she lost it now.
"What does it matter? In my opinion you are being completely unfair to blame me for the fact that the contract isn't signed. The Chinese negotiators have been practicing avoidance and dodging for days. You've lost face with our hosts. I told you it was a bad idea to bring me along. We share a suite. It doesn't matter that my rooms are separate from yours. They think I'm your Qie or as I was called today, your jianhuo. They are deeply offended."
Now those dark eyes narrowed. "Who called you a whore?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice. There was nothing soft about Marcus Gillespie.
"What on earth does it matter now?" Anais retorted furiously. "There's nothing you can do about it. As you well know, if you make a fuss and make them lose face the contract will be lost." Her response simply won her a stony stare, and she had an almost overwhelming urge to throw something heavy at his too handsome head. "I've worked too damn hard, for too damn long, to lose my position now, Marcus."
Had she really just called him Marcus?
Her heart was thundering against her ribs, in her ears.
Well, she'd done it now. Nothing like burning her boats. No way would the great Marcus Gillespie permit a lowly assistant to talk to him in that tone.
Silence.
"Okay." Marcus watched her clench and unclench her hands. The girl was wound so tight her whole body was almost humming like a tuning fork. He was delighted to have her on edge and nervy, exactly where he wanted her. "Have dinner with me tonight at the Pepper club and we'll talk about it."
Almond shaped eyes the color of bitter chocolate and edged with thick forest of black lashes stared back at him. Anais was exquisite. She was delicately formed and one of the most beautiful women Marcus had ever seen. And in two hundred plus years he'd seen plenty. In heels her head came up to his shoulder. The black suit she wore was immaculate, as was the ivory silk shirt buttoned to the neck. She was wand slim and had fabulous legs showcasing black heels. Her hair was the color of a raven's wing, a glossy blue black and her honey-toned
skin was flawless. But it was the cheekbones and the killer mouth with bee stung lips that did it for him.
Every.
Single.
Time.
By the way her beautiful eyes went wide, his dinner invitation had surprised her.
"Certainly not," she said in a voice that sounded like a queen talking to a serf.
Shoulders back, chin up, she turned towards the door.
"Scared?" The question, gently mocking, stopped her in her tracks.
It was a direct challenge, and Marcus wondered how she would react.
Anais looked over her shoulder, narrowed those exotic eyes and he saw the precise moment she picked up the baton.
"I'll meet you in the hotel bar at seven-thirty."
"It's a nightclub, Anais," he said in a silky tone that he knew would annoy, and sure enough, a flush heated her smooth cheeks. "It doesn't open until ten o'clock. Why don't you get some rest? The meetings have been full on. We haven't seen anything of the City. I think we could both do with the break. We'll meet here at ten-thirty, have a drink. What do you say?"
Like a good little lawyer, his assistant usually answered questions with yes or no. Anais might be one of the best attention- to-detail people he'd ever employed but it had become quite apparent to Marcus that the girl was all work and no play. Now white teeth were worrying and abusing her bottom lip. When her guard was down he could quite clearly read the emotions crossing her expressive face and in those big eyes, anxiety, excitement and most intriguing of all... a change of heart.
"The thing is I didn't think to bring an appropriate dress," she told him.
"No problem. I'll have the hotel boutique to send up a selection." His eyes took a measured stroll from the top of her dark head to her toes. "A size two?"
Her eyes flashed with something like temper as her mouth opened, and closed with a snap. "Okay. Ten-thirty then."
"Deal." Marcus smiled as she stalked down the hallway and banged the door to her rooms behind her.
Temper, temper, Anais.