She moaned his name, carrying it out in a prayer. Dragging his lips up her body, he sought out her breasts, covering a peak at once, coaxing it to a harder peak while playing with her sex with firm movements. She was nearly there. Before he allowed her to come, he aligned his cock with her entrance, and filled her in one swift movement. Her fingers gripped the silk, her teeth denting her bottom lip at that first thrust. He used his mouth to toy with her earlobe and it only stoked the fire, causing her to beg him unashamedly to tip her over the edge. As he reached a hand down to squeeze her thigh, her pussy clamped down on him, making him groan and urge him to move faster, deeper. He slipped his hands beneath her rear, shifting her impossibly closer, and then his speed intensified. She arched in a tight bow, and her inner muscles clamped around him. She pressed her head back into the pillow, and her screaming his name was his undoing. Her cries faded when her lungs couldn't take it anymore, when her body couldn't handle it anymore, the last climax demanding all of her strength.
She moaned once in agony, loosening her grip on the silk. He planted a kiss on her neck, and next he removed her blindfold. She blinked, watching him as he tugged at the silk ribbons and finally she was free. With a wince, she lifted her arms. After freeing her legs he joined her by her side and scooped her closer, taking her hands in his to dull the ache from the restraints and Sophia sighed against him.
10.
SECRETS
"Of course, Mr. Worth. I will make sure you have everything ready. I look forward to next week." Sophia ended the phone call with a sigh. Mr. Worth, a rich man with a fitting name, was one of the worst clients. He had silly requests like what kind of decorations he wanted for his meeting. He needed champagne colored roses, some type of sterling water, and ombre tablecloths. Sophia had never said no to a request. That was what Chris hired her for.
"I love Mr. Worth!" Agnes said with a wink from her station in-between visitors.
"I might just marry him." Sophia smiled, before they both erupted in laughter.
"Imagine arranging his wedding." Agnes rolled her eyes before turning toward the people in front of her desk.
If the man ever got engaged, she doubted the actual wedding would ever be ready in this lifetime. She looked down at the long list, straightened her back, and pushed back her shoulders. Back to work. Next she needed to get ahold of a specific type of sterling water from Norway. This guy had an obsession with Scandinavia for no apparent reason. On his last visit, she had to get handpicked Swedish flowers.
In the laundry room, Sophia had occupied a space for her tablecloth project. After visiting tens of stores in search for the specific color tones Mr. Worth requested with no luck, she had to take matters into her own hands.
"What the hell are you doing?" Chris asked, pausing next to her in the laundry room.
"I'm making ombre tablecloths," she said without skipping a beat.
His gaze snapped to her face. Sophia straightened. "Mr. Worth is having a meeting here. He requested table covers for his presentation. I couldn't find them, at least not in the color tones he requested, so I'm DIY-ing instead." No one ever requested tablecloths — especially ombre tablecloths; such a weirdo.
"DIY…" He shook his head. "Great idea, Sophia. I know he's demanding."
"Oh, it's fine!" She hung up the seventh tablecloth. She went through a crazy DIY-phase a year ago, and this was right up her alley.
"I wanted to ask you how things are going with your friend, James."
Sophia looked at him twice, shocked he'd bring that up again. She collected herself and tried to offer her best nonchalant shrug. "I don't see him that often."
"I heard you're staying in Monroe, and that the two of you had Arielle bring you food."
Sophia knew that was something Arielle would never do for just anyone and so did Chris. Sophia drew in a quick breath, her face contorting in confusion. "Have you had someone following me?"
Chris leaned back against the table in the middle of the room, propping his arms on the surface. "No, of course not," he said with a head tilt. "Workers, as well as guests, saw Arielle arrive. Very suspicious. People are still talking about it. It couldn't have been anyone other than James's doing and it wasn't difficult finding out he'd rented a suite."
"So what if I spend time with James? This has nothing to do with my job whatsoever, not to mention I met him before he even visited Herrera. If anything, I have earned you money because he's been staying at our hotel for more conferences as well as renting the most expensive suite. One word and he'll head over to Grand Pier again. I can make him stay."
Chris observed her calmly. Anyone who stood up against him quickly lost their jobs. Sophia's threshold neared breaking point and she didn't care about the repercussions.
"I don't like it when my employees lie to me."
Really? Really? "My work hours are from nine to five. Usually, anyway. After that, you have no right to question my private life."
"I need you to get a deal from him."
"No. I haven't been seeing him for long. I've told you."
Chris sighed, looking saddened all of a sudden but it was just a charade. "Things have been rough around here, Sophia," he confessed, walking closer. "I have to let someone go."
"I pay attention to numbers as well, Chris," Sophia said with deadly calm, "and the hotel has never been greater. I won't believe for a second you'd fire me."
He walked over to her and pushed her against the sharp edge of the metal sink. She winced at the jab of pain, but she endured it. "I like you, Sophia. Always have." He touched her arm and smoothed her skin with his thumb. He was cold, disgusting in his touch, but she kept from leaping. She'd never seen his expression so severe, so hostile before. "But I have to cut back on employees. Unless," his beady eyes trained on hers, "you convince James to donate two million dollars. You have one week." He turned his back to her and headed toward the door.
Sophia's hands tightened into fists by her sides. She had never wanted to strangle someone so bad in her life. Her lower back still ached from him pushing her against the sink. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to calm somewhat. "Two million dollars," she muttered as she turned toward the sink where her dye project awaited. She couldn't imagine it. In a few hours she'd be on her way to James's place for dinner, something she looked forward to up until now.
Sophia arrived at his place at nine, barely having time for a quick shower in her hotel room before heading out again. She wore a simple black dress and heels, her hair in low set, sleek ponytail.
"Is something wrong?" he asked as he removed her coat.
Sophia turned toward him a little too abruptly. "No. Nothing's wrong."
He frowned, giving her a long stare, and she felt her resolve of keeping her mouth shut about Chris's demand slowly falter. She drew in a breath and asked quickly, "So, what's for dinner? It smells great."
James averted his stare finally, and moved to hang up her coat.
"Italian," he grinned, "I hope you're hungry."
"Starving," Sophia answered honestly, and they both headed inside. She loved the way he immediately touched the small of her back when guiding her into his living room.
He kissed her cheek and pulled out a chair for her. "You look stunning."
She hesitated for just a moment to let the scent of him sink in.
"Thank you." She sunk down into the chair with a smile.
"Work okay?" he asked, heading over to the stove where several casseroles stood simmering. He stirred one of them and carefully tasted the wooden spoon with tomato sauce. Lucky spoon.
"Yes, it's been okay. Mr. Worth's coming in on. I believe you know him."
"I've met him a couple of times," he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. "He told me my office was boring when he visited once."
Sophia smiled, trying to imagine what Mr. Worth's office might look like. Ombre-painted walls, no doubt — and Viking paintings. "Do you want me to help with anything?" she asked, feeling a little restless. She ne
eded to rid Chris from her mind, and James was the perfect distraction. She stood up and walked over to the kitchen, set nicely in a white and steel design.
He flashed a smile. "Sure. You can find wine glasses, if you'd like." He lifted his chin toward the corner fridge with double doors, and Sophia spotted the cabinet next to it with sparkling glasses.
"I'll get right to it," she said, and at once moved to collect the glasses.
"Are you still at work?" he asked, a small smile pushing at the corners of his mouth while he opened a bottle of red wine.
"Did I respond too fast?"
"Like lightning."
Sophia sighed, and brought the glasses to him. "It's just been a long day. I don't think I'll ever properly leave the hotel," she half-joked. Much less with Chris's demands hanging over her.
He poured the wine and then offered her a glass. "Have a glass, please. I promise you'll forget the hotel. A friend of mine gave me this when he opened his restaurant here in the city. He is such a perfectionist that he bought his own orchard in Italy just to make his own wine for his customers. He said it's the best thing ever created. You're the perfect judge."
"Sounds good." She took in the scent of the wine.
"Taste this first," he said, giving the tomato sauce a stir before picking up some on his spoon. He held the spoon close to him, and Sophia needed to mirror that.
"Careful," he said, bringing it close to her lips, "it's hot."
So, so, very hot. She moved her gaze from his rich brown eyes and to the steaming food. The vivid scent of tomatoes and basil reached her, and immediately made her mouth water. She eagerly took some into her mouth, feeling the heavy stare from James, and the burst of flavors took her by surprise, making her give a small moan. "Wow," she said after swallowing. "You've made this? That was fantastic."
"Now, try the wine." He nudged her glass still in her hand.
Sophia took a small sip and the wine flared to life. James smiled at her reaction.
"It's a fine wine on its own, but with a flavored meal it turns into a dream."
She nodded, worshipping the fine taste still lingering on her tongue from the wine and sauce. She'd tried different types of wine with different types of meals, and even had a course in it at work, but none with that effect. It reminded her of Arielle's combination. "Tell your friend it's more than okay. I might have to order wine from him for the hotel."
James grinned and licked a drop of sauce off his finger. "He'll love hearing that."
Once the food was served and more wine in their glasses, Sophia gloated, "Are you a secret chef or something?" She was lost in gluttony after the perfectly prepared pasta dish.
"I'm impressed. You've just found out my secret."
Sophia watched him with interest. "You have a lot of those?"
"Just the one."
"You being skilled in the kitchen."
He lifted his glass to his lips and drank some. "Speaking of, why don't you tell me a secret," he suggested casually.
"A secret." She bit her lip, pondering the question. The first one that popped up was Chris's demands.
"Your deepest, darkest secret," he repeated, his dark eyes twinkling in the candlelight.
"All right," she succumbed, "my darkest secret was something you helped me get rid of."
"You being a virgin?" he scoffed. "Hardly a dark secret. It was more of an issue on your part."
"I worked in an adult shop," she reminded him, but his gaze told her he wasn't satisfied — he already knew. Moving her glass in circles, she watched the liquid swirl. "All right," her eyes shot to his, "but you can never tell anyone."
"I won't," he promised, the candles' flame mirrored in his eyes.
"I might just kill you if this ever gets out."
"Oh, I'd like to see you try," he grinned, "but you have my word. Your secret won't leave this room."
"I have an obsession," she stated, tapping a fingernail against her glass.
"Likewise," he countered, his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass before he lifted it to his lips and took a sip.
Sophia took a deep breath. "I am a kleptomaniac."
"What — excuse me?"
She shook her head tiredly. "I sometimes take pens."
"Pens," he copied, expression unchanging.
"Yes — pens from different places, organizations, offices, and such. I've tried to get rid of this, this urge, but I haven't succeeded."
James sat still and blinked. "Wow. You're a twisted person."
"I know." She covered her face with her hands. "And now you know."
Then she heard him chuckle, low at first, and then he fell into mirthful laugh.
"It's not funny!" She stared at him in shock. "Stop that."
"You take a few free pens with logos on them, and make it sound as if you've stolen a Ferrari. Oh, it's funny." A smile widened across his face again.
Sophia glared. "I probably have two hundred of them."
"Two hundred!"
"I need to be stopped!" Sophia realized she wasn't getting through. "Never mind. What can you tell me about yourself?" she asked.
"My deepest, darkest secret?" His smile seemed to simmer down finally before he thought of her question.
"Aside from mad cooking skills, yes."
He gave her a wry smile, his eyes lowering to the table for a moment. "Most of my life is an open book. The only chapter hidden from the public is what you already know."
"That you go to a fancy sex club and have a thing for tying people up? Oh, you traitor," Sophia said. "I already know that!"
"All right." He rolled his eyes. "All of my boxers are blue."
Sophia paused her drink midair. "Really?" She frowned, trying to remember his clothes. "Why?"
"No clue," he smiled, "but I can only have blue boxers."
"Is it like a good luck kind of thing for your business?"
"Not really," he shrugged, "I just like blue."
Sophia watched him for a moment. She sighed. "I understand. I can wait." She hadn't told him hers either. His Illuminati secret could wait and so could her blackmail secret.
James smiled at her before lifting his glass of wine to his lips, finishing the last few drops. The sound of a buzzing phone made his face tense. He dug his hand into his pocket and withdrew his phone. "I'm sorry, Sophia, I have to take this."
"Don't worry about it," she said, and watched him get up.
"This is Archer," he answered the phone, his eyes on Sophia while he walked closer to her. He reached into his pocket and when he withdrew his hand, he held a silvery pen. Reaching Sophia, he put it on the table in front of her. Archer written on brushed steel twinkled back at her. Her gaze went to him, her mouth dropping open.
"No, I'm still here, sorry," he said, a smile to his lips as he turned away from her to walk outside. "I sent the McKinley contract over email, please check again…"
The second she was alone, Sophia's eyes shot straight at the pen. She wasn't going to tell him that she already had one.
Minutes passed, and Sophia took the opportunity to marvel at the view from his apartment, walking across the grand place to watch the twinkling city from his sky palace, as Agnes called it. She began clearing the table and put everything in the dishwasher. Finishing drying her hands, James walked back in.
"You really didn't have to do that," he said, sending a quick glance at the emptied table, walking toward her.
Sophia smiled. "No, it was the least I could do after that amazing dinner. And, you have delicious leftovers for tomorrow in the fridge." She beamed.
"Thank you." He dipped down and kissed her. "I didn't mean to be that long on the phone."
"Don't think about it. I hope everything's okay."
"You're too nice," he tipped her head and brushed his lips over her cheek, "I don't deserve it."
"Actually, you really don't." Sophia changed her mind. "In fact, there's something that I want from you."
He distanced a little to look at her. "What
do you want?"
Two million dollars. Sophia found his gaze penetrating hers, a genuine interest there. She reached up to touch the collar of his shirt and trailed a finger to his tie. He grabbed her hips and lifted her onto the counter. Stepping between her knees, he pinned them open for him, making Sophia shiver.
"What do you want, Sophia?" he questioned, trapping her chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently tipped her chin up.
"I want," she moistened her bottom lip, "something sweet." Her eyes flicked to his lips, to his eyes, and with a small tug of his tie, she drew him a little nearer, the low notes of his cologne reaching her, tempting her. She kept her cool. "I want," she murmured, words skimming his chin roughened by a hint of stubble that only made him even more appealing, "something that'll make me moan and beg for more."
The fingers of one hand moved to curl around her nape, while the other grasped her hip, bringing her closer to the edge of the counter. She braced her thighs on either side of his hips.
"I want," her breath shivered against his lips, and then she pushed back, "that delicious looking dessert in your fridge."
"Huh?" He blinked his eyes a couple of times, as if awakened from a dream. "Oh, you tease." He let go of her at once as if stung. "Where'd you learn that?"
"From you," she said, barely getting the words out from laughing. "I'm sorry." She pressed a few fingers to her lips, but couldn't quiet down. "I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, I can see that," he said, readjusting his tie, but she didn't miss the flicker of delight in his eyes. "Dessert, huh?"
She braced her hands on the countertop and nodded, still all smiles. "I love dessert."
"Obviously, after that display," he drawled, holding her gaze just a second longer. He sauntered over to the fridge, pulling out a chilled glass of dark chocolate mousse that had sprinkled chocolate shavings across the top. She spotted it earlier when she was cleaning up, and could barely resist the urge to take a tiny sample. She knew there was a second glass in there as well and it looked to be a part of their meal before the interruption.
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