by Ashlee Price
“Langdon!”
“It’s okay,” he said, “Let go, Sheryl, let go!”
“I can’t!”
“Yes, you can, Sheryl. You must! You must let go… now, Sheryl, now!”
Once again, my body was obedient even as my mind was frozen, overwhelmed. My arms knew what to do and whom to trust, and they slipped away from Langdon’s shoulders. My spine did its part, easing me backward. Langdon’s hands were holding me at the small of my back, my calves retaining their purchase on his strong thighs, my arms languid behind me as I dipped back further and further.
As Langdon spun, I couldn’t fight the temptation to open my eyes. The ocean seemed to be stretched out above me, the sky an endless chasm below. When Langdon began spinning faster the overturned surroundings became disorienting, dizzying. Blood rushed to my head and into my groin. My orgasm was unwilling to be bound any longer.
It flooded me from within with fantastic familiarity, a reminder of our time together, our first time. Even with my world turned upside-down, spinning frantically and going faster and faster, well beyond my control, I could recognize that sweet sensation snapping and snarling inside me, the beast, and she could no longer be contained. The force of Langdon’s spinning threw my orgasm out of its confines, and once released it spread through me like a flood. My stomach was pushed up into my lungs by the centrifugal force and by Langdon’s huge member as my cum poured out in the other direction.
Swept up in the midst of Hurricane Langdon, I threw my arms out over my head as I leaned back further and further. I was resplendent in my confidence in Langdon and in myself, in us as a pair. We spun, each leaning back to counterbalance the other, perfect symmetry, balance personified, a match predestined, natural, well outside the reach of meddlesome man.
Chapter 11
I had to drag myself away from Langdon to get back to the office. I knew the longer I stayed away, the more dirt John would be expecting me to have dug up. And while I didn’t really think there’d be any dirt on Langdon, I was beginning to have second and even third thoughts about the great John Alister.
Why would he make Langdon that kind of offer? It had a slight chance of success and an almost certain guarantee of failure at least somewhere along the line.
I spent my day at the office poring through the records, going from the research library to the computer banks, checking the lists of assets. But I hardly had the training for such a huge undertaking; my background was in fashion design, not forensic data research.
This is probably the kind of thing Flynn could do pretty well, I realized, before instantly discounting the notion as impractical. I got Flynn locked out of the building, I had to remind myself. Nice work.
After a few eye-burning hours, I’d come up with nothing more than a headache. I rubbed my fingers through my hair and scratched the back of my head, leaning back and taking a deep breath.
I must be coming at this from the wrong direction or something. What could John possibly be planning? Luring him to New York with some bogus offer? What for? It’s not like Langdon’s absence from his offices in Sydney makes his company vulnerable to attack, does it? He doesn’t exactly stand in front of the place with a shotgun night and day. And if John’s using me to distract Langdon, what am I supposed to be distracting him from?
I kept thinking about John Alister, what kind of person he was, what kind of man Langdon was. Langdon’s straightforward. He doesn’t put on airs, and unless this whole Aussie Outback thing is pure performance art or absolute subterfuge, I don’t think Langdon is plotting anything or using me in any way.
But John Alister is a man with secrets, whether they’re his apparently numerous mistresses, his shady business deals, his fake smiles or his bleached white teeth. He delegates his personal assistant to buy Christmas gifts for his family, for Christ’s sake. That’s not an honest man. And a dishonest man is capable of anything. And given how much money he has at his disposal, and how money could be at stake, the possibilities are staggering… and terrifying.
So presuming John has some plan to achieve a hostile takeover of AussieGarb, or something similar, how would he? He could never buy up enough stock to get a controlling interest in the company; that would be impossible.
But it got me thinking, and a quick check into the other companies under the Alister Fashions umbrella revealed that there were dozens: Powerplay magazine, Schwartzmann’s neckties, various textile manufacturers, a transcontinental shipping company, various land holdings.
Once again I was seeing stars in the form of lines and columns and lists that had me spinning around in circles. I had to silently chide myself, What’s the point? If John’s got some shady shell company to use against AussieGarb, I’ll never find it.
Just as I was about to drop the stack of tax returns and lean back to rub my eyes and give up, something grabbed my attention. Under a list of companies under the heading HOLDINGS, FOREIGN, I saw the name RicTel International.
RicTel, I repeated silently, not like… Ricardo Tellez? My Ricardo? I didn’t have to scour my memory or my imagination very long. I’ve gotten Ricardo a few gigs with Powerplay now, and he does seem to know Margaret Alister pretty well, considering. He couldn’t be in on any of this, could he? Could John have gotten to him, corrupted my best friend and roommate?
I felt suddenly vulnerable, slight and even helpless. If John can get to me all the way in Brooklyn, right into my apartment, my bedroom…? What if I’m not safe there?
The first thing to do was look into this RicTel International to find out what business it was in, what it was buying and selling under the Alister Fashions corporate umbrella.
Sure enough, the company had been put together the year before and had been slowly buying up shares in AussieGarb. I couldn’t find a single other thing the company had any connection to; no cosmetics, no publications, no clothing design or manufacture or shipping of any kind.
Just shares in AussieGarb, and a boatload of them too.
I closed the files and returned them to the file cabinet, feeling suddenly conspicuous. John was across town on another of his mysterious errands, and Flynn wasn’t going to be a problem for me, at least not while I was safely in the office. But there was still an odd feeling creeping up the back of my neck, and my hairs were standing up on my arms.
I crossed back to the computer to start closing out of the screens, but it was a Mac and I suddenly got that much-hated spinning pinwheel of death. The screen was locked open on what I’d been looking at, an open list of RicTel’s assets.
“Sheryl?” I looked up too quickly, feeling the blood drain from my face. John stood in the doorway with an expression of reasonable calm, though his cramped brow and twitching frown gave him a look of vague concern, even suspicion. “I’m surprised to find you here.”
He took a step toward me. The computer screen was still incriminating, still ready to turn my world upside down and perhaps even throw it straight out the window.
“Well,” I said with a deliberate chuckle, “I do work here, Mr. Alister.”
“Yes, of course you do.” Another step. That pinwheel was just spinning and spinning. “And what are you up to here today, instead of escorting Langdon Cane around town as I’d specifically requested you be doing?”
My stomach turned and my palms suddenly sheeted in sweat. I very nearly threw myself out of the chair and into his arms for a mad, blinding kiss; anything to keep his line of sight from falling onto that open file. It wasn’t going to be an easy tactic to talk my way out of, but it was better than the alternative.
“He had some things to see to, and, um…”
Sure enough, one more step forced my hand. My legs straightened beneath me, my hands found his broad, muscular chest, and my lips mashed against his. His cologne filled my nostrils, a vaguely spicy aroma. I struck with enough force to send him back a few steps, his tongue lingering upon mine for an indulgent instant before he pushed me away.
“Sheryl, really! What’s the meani
ng of all this? What’s going on here?”
“I… I’m sorry, John… Mr. Alister, I mean, I just…”
“Something of a little office crush?”
I nodded, but I was disappointed when he stood there silently and let me explain. “I… I know you’re married, and a father, and I’m not going to interfere with any of that, I never would. But I guess being with Langdon, touring around the city with him, I mean—”
“I know what you mean, Sheryl.”
I swallowed hard, hoping my performance was spot-on, knowing it would have to be. “Anyway, I guess it brought up these… these other feelings I had, maybe I… maybe I still have them.”
John set a comforting hand on each of my forearms, just a bit of gentle pressure. “What you’re feeling is perfectly natural, Sheryl, it really is. I’m an authority figure to you, you look up to me, trust me. But so does my little girl Bailey, and I can’t let her down by being any less of a man than I’d want her to fall in love with and marry later in life.”
“I understand that, I really do. It’s just… I guess I got a little carried away, that’s all.”
John glanced at the computer screen. The file had already closed and the machine was walking through a step-by-step automated shutdown. “What was all this?”
Damnit! I was so close!
“Oh, just some concerns I had about, um, your credit card. I don’t want to overspend finding everything on your list.”
“It’s a black card, Sheryl, there’s no limit. Anyway, why didn’t you just call them? The number’s right on the back of the card.”
“Right, yes, well, it wasn’t just that, it was… well, okay, you caught me.” He turned his head just a bit, as if seeing me in some new and terrible light. “It was… the crush, I guess. I was hoping I might find something… some way I might surprise you, maybe turn up unexpectedly, maybe even, I know it sounds crazy, but… find some ruse to pull you out of the city… I dunno, I guess it was pretty desperate—”
“And foolish,” he said with an impatient snap to his voice. “You could have really compromised me that way, Sheryl. A reputation takes a lifetime to create, but only seconds to destroy.”
“I know that, I do, and you’re right. I wasn’t thinking straight, like I said.”
“But now you are?”
I nodded with an almost military edge. “Yes, sir, absolutely.”
“And you’re going to get back to Langdon Cane and find out what he’s really up to out here.”
“Well, honestly, Mr. Alister, I don’t think he’s up to anything.”
“What about my offer?”
I had to shrug, not wanting to betray either man, or myself. “You may have to sweeten the pot.”
“You’re not sweet enough for him?” I took instant exception to that, of course. It was John’s boldfaced admission that he was using me to seduce Langdon, although I knew it wasn’t to coax him into creating some bogus joint venture company. By the look of RicTel’s profile, John had other things in mind, but he was definitely using me toward achieving them.
And as angry as that made me feel, as quickly as I felt my temper rise, I knew I could not afford to indulge it.
So I said only, “He’s a different kind of man than most, Mr. Alister. He… he doesn’t seem to need or want for very much. Impressing a man like that isn’t easy.”
“I’m sure you’re more than up to the task. Or perhaps I should pursue some other strategy?” He took another step forward, and I took another step back. “Maybe I was wrong about you, Sheryl. Maybe you’re not as capable as I’d hoped. I told you this was a test, Sheryl. The test. I hope you won’t disappoint me.”
“I’m doing my best, sir.”
“Let’s hope not, Sheryl.” Another step forward, one more back. His voice was low and grave, menacing as his eyes locked on mine. “Let’s hope you can still do just a little bit better.”
I cleared my throat, voice quivering. “Or… or what?”
“Or? Or?” He smiled a reptile’s smile as he reached out, the backs of his fingers gently stroking my cheek, pushing a strand of my blonde hair out of my face. He was very smooth, barely touching me at all. But he and I both knew what those lingering fingers meant, the power and strength they conveyed, and his willingness to use those things toward his own ends, still hidden from me. “I’m not threatening you, Sheryl. There’s no ultimatum here. You’re doing what you can, and I appreciate you, that’s all.”
I stood there, blood running cold, lower lip trembling. “Okay, well, I… um, I should get back to my apartment and change. I have a dinner date with Langdon.”
“Mustn’t keep him waiting, then,” was all John said. He kept his eyes locked on me as he stood patiently, waiting for me to collect my purse and stumble awkwardly out the door. I hated the idea of leaving him with that computer after I’d failed to scrub the history. If he looked, he’d know everything I’d learned in a matter of seconds, and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him short of calling in a bomb threat.
***
Ricardo shook his head, brown eyes wide. “I swear, girlfriend, I don’t know anything about it. RicTel? Why me? They barely know me!”
“That’s just what I was wondering. Ricardo, you and John Alister didn’t have an affair, did you?”
“No, Sher, no! I’d have told you!”
“He would have sworn you to secrecy; we both know that. He’d kill you if it ever got out.”
“Then he’d never risk using my name!” Ricardo sat down next to me on the couch of our little Brooklyn living room, setting a hand on my knee. “Listen to me, Sheryl, I would never betray you that way, never!”
I wanted to believe my old friend, of course, and looking into his big, sincere gaze made me think I should. But I also knew that John Alister was hiding secrets, and one of them had something to do with Ricardo.
“Why would he have used your name?” I asked. “That doesn’t make any sense at all unless he was blowing you or something—”
“Sheryl!”
“Or you were blowing him!”
His voice got even higher pitched than usual. “No, Sheryl, no! I swear, nobody was blowing anybody, at least not with me in the room.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “If only…”
“But… your name, Ricardo. That’s too much of a coincidence just to ignore.”
Ricardo nodded. “I know, I know, it… it doesn’t look good, but… I mean, I did do several photo shoots for them, so my name would naturally be on a list somewhere, in a directory of freelancers or something. I know I was introduced to him and his wife, face to face, introduced by name, so maybe he was looking for a name and just picked mine out of his ass? One name’s as good as another.”
I had to admit, that did make some sense. Although Ricardo and Margaret had had that flash of recognition when they bumped into each other at the front door… could it be that Ricardo and Margaret were working together, that they put the shell company together and named it after him as an in-joke or some code or something?
But the idea of a tryst between Ricardo and Margaret was laughable, and I actually did have to fight back a little burst of laughter. It didn’t last.
What if it’s not sex that she’s manipulating him with, but power, money, a career?
I leaned forward, rubbing my temples as my head started to throb. “I dunno, Ricardo… my head’s spinning, tell you the truth.”
“What about Cockadile Dundee?” Coming from Ricardo, I wasn’t sure if the mispronunciation was a deliberate innuendo or a Freudian slip. “You think you can trust him?”
“Why not? He’s not the one buying up shares in the other guy’s company under some shell company.”
“Not that you know of. But if he’s so smart, he’s gotta have come here knowing your boss had something in mind, probably’s got a game of his own going on. That’s what a smart person would do, isn’t it?”
I didn’t have to think about it for long. Ricardo was right, and both
Langdon and John were a lot smarter than I was. Even Ricardo seemed to be. But I couldn’t move forward alone, and I knew where my next step would lead me.
Back into Langdon’s arms and, hopefully, deeper into his mind.
Chapter 12
I met Langdon and we went for a long stroll around Central Park. The still weather had left slopes of white snow piled in the corners and on the bare tree branches. Our breath collected in icy clouds in front of us, although the sky was clear blue above, just a few clouds drifting in from the east.
“I dunno,” Langdon said, glancing around the park. “I don’t think he could pull it off if he tried.”
“Because your board controls enough stock to prevent him getting a controlling interest.”
“Too right,” he said.
“But what if he can get to somebody on your board of directors? What if that’s the real reason he dragged you out here, offered you that phony deal, so an operative of his can get out there and lock down the deal without you being around to figure it out and stop it before it’s too late… because you’re out here looking at me?”
Langdon took another long look at me, still uncertain what or who he was looking at. “And you know nothing about this?”
I couldn’t blame him for being skeptical. But I also knew that, as much as any of us could be trusted, I trusted myself more than either of them. If Langdon didn’t trust me, that told me something about his innocence, about his trustworthiness.
And I liked what it was telling me.
Langdon asked, “Who’d he send? Not that wife of his, ‘at’s for sure.”
“Because she’s still here in New York?”
“Because she’s just twenty yards or so behind us, hiding behind a maple tree.”
I didn’t look back; I didn’t have to. “I feel like she’s been shadowing me, tell you the truth.”
“You still have some doubt about that?”
“For a while I thought it was just coincidence. Her husband does work right around the corner, and I work with him—”