Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series)

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Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) Page 2

by Rosa, A.


  Someone on the right delicately grabs my forearm, and it takes every fiber in my being not to flinch at the strange touch. Instead, I concentrate on my smile and batting my eyelashes as I turn to see who touched me.

  I'm happy to see that it's Marcus, my main objective.

  "Sweets, we'd all be happy to know your name if you don't mind?" He drags his hand down my forearm and over my hand.

  For some reason, it gives me eerie chills, and I realize that my intuition is telling me this guy has secrets. I bite my lip.

  "So, no more drinks, sir?"

  He laughs. "No, but we are all aching to know who you are."

  The statement is comical to me. I can't help but let out a laugh. They will never know who I am or what I am capable of.

  "How about you tell me all of your names, and then I'll tell you mine?"

  "Is this like the game: if you show me yours, I'll show you mine? Because I like that game," Marcus asks.

  The question startles me. So bold. My mouth hangs half open.

  "And the mystery lady can be shocked!" Jeremy exclaims. The whole table erupts with laughter.

  I giggle, but I don't really find it funny. It's all part of the game.

  I can tell this table of men is turning into boys in the palm of my hand. They all seem keen to keep me around. Maybe this is going better than I thought.

  "Gentlemen, hold your tongues!" I twist my lips into a cheeky smile at Marcus's racy statement.

  "Well, Miss, if I am not mistaken, the first amendment states we have freedom of speech, but you are well versed in that, I'm sure," Jeremy speaks up. He continues to wear that pantie-dropping smile on his face.

  Who has whom in the palm of their hand, Agent Turner?

  This time, I let out an honest laugh since he is hinting at our first interaction. I'm also embarrassed, because it wasn't the nicest of meetings, but that was his fault.

  That reminds me of what kind of person he is: womanizer most likely.

  So why does my face feel hot?

  Marcus butts in. "We've not only shocked her, but we are making her blush! Yet we still have no name." He pouts and looks up at me.

  I can't help but dart my eyes back to Jeremy, who can't and won't stop staring. This guy needs to back off. He's throwing me off balance. I am a federal agent, for God's sake.

  "The name's Alex, and you all are?" I wink at Marcus before I scan the table, and he rewards me with his boyish grin.

  "Well, you sat my table, so you know my name is Marcus Gibbs." Marcus is on the far right, and the men around the table introduce themselves counter-clockwise.

  The youngest looking of them introduces himself as David Finch. My file told me he is Marcus's lab partner, and does most of his research. He's the mousiest of the bunch. I assume he got lucky that his smarts got him in with this lot.

  Next is Jake Montgomery, a friend from college who graduated with both Marcus and Jeremy. He is a marketing executive. He's a likable fellow with an all-American grin and strawberry blond hair.

  Then there is Chris Laury. My file listed him as a potential accomplice. He's on the financial team for Sunscape. We suspect he is smudging numbers for Marcus.

  Sitting next to him and fiddling with the rim of his empty glass is Rob Glade. This guy is one we are keeping an eye on as well. He works as an accountant, and is a financial adviser in stocks and bonds. Apparently, he helps Jeremy with financial investments and such. We aren't sure if he's also been helping Marcus by siphoning money into foreign accounts.

  Next, that frustrating man sticks out his hand to shake mine.

  "Jeremy Hunt, and the pleasure is all mine."

  His tone is slick with need and sarcasm, almost as if it has a hidden meaning. It causes me to squint at him, but oddly enough, I am grinning.

  Get a grip. You are on company time, remember?

  I don't want to shake his hand, but in front of all these people, I have no choice.

  His distracting lips turn upward into a smile that makes my knees go weak. His blond hair sits in disarray on his head as if he might have fucked some girl in the bathroom. His sculpted features resemble that of a Viking god. It's sickening.

  All I know from his file is that he is inheriting the company. He doesn't quite own it yet, as it is still in his father's name. His father was diagnosed with cancer three years ago, and in turn, his son has been filling in as CEO, and doing a damned good job, from the report I read. He has managed to orchestrate a ten percent increase in profit within the company. The man is good at getting investors, or so I hear.

  You couldn't tell all that from his boyish grin, that's for sure. He's a pretty face for a rapidly growing company, but his personal trysts often make the news: big celebrity parties, girls (lots), and the occasional bar fight. He's a run-of-the-mill rich bad boy. His story bores the hell out of me.

  He's not on our suspect list, and I don't know why. We believe he has no idea about what his best friend has planned. Looking at that face, I don't think he does either.

  I lean forward over the table to shake his well-manicured hand. He's all business as he grabs my hand—too eager and firm. My body freezes at his touch. This unfamiliar current runs down my spine, and for some reason, I yank my hand out of his too quickly. He's smiling at me, and I realize I must be blushing again.

  Get a hold of yourself, Turner.

  I decide to ignore the event, and peer at the man next to him.

  Finally, the mystery man.

  "Luc." He smiles at me. I smile back, hoping that the flirting will get him to reveal more. With only one word spoken, I can't tell if there is a hint of an accent, especially with the music playing, but I get nothing.

  My cheeks continue to flush. Jeremy's heavy stare is making my head cloudy.

  "If that'll be all, gentlemen, I think I'll be going. Any more drinks? Anything else I can help you with?"

  Marcus jumps on it.

  "I think we are good with the drinks, but I'm sure we can think of something you can help us with." The table hoots in agreement, and my teeth clamp down on my bottom lip.

  He raises his hand and rests it on the back of my bare thigh, lazily tugging me forward, and it makes me cringe. I can't exactly twist his arm here in front of everyone.

  I take a swift step backward while pursing my lips into a forced smile and letting his hand fall from my body. To soften the movement, I wink at him, but I worry that it isn't enough.

  Before I turn around, I peer at Jeremy, who looks like he's ... I don't know, concerned? Jealous? His lips are set into a hard line as he looks at his friend, and then he's back to looking at me. He has caught me staring at him, and I realize that's my cue to leave.

  Oddly frazzled, I practically run back to the bar. I look around for a distraction and decide to serve some waiting customers. I don't care who sees it: I grab for a bottle of vodka and pour some shots, leaving an extra one. I grab it and drink it in one swift gulp.

  Lydia sees me, and just laughs.

  I take in a deep breath to relax.

  I serve a few more drinks, and already the flawed interaction has left my mind. I think I might be ready for round two. Maybe this time I'll take a seat with them.

  Before I can create a plan of action, I look up and I see Jeremy stalking toward me from the back of the nightclub. His eyes locked on me. I can almost see his eyes' blazing icy blue.

  Oh no you don't, Mr. Hunt. He has to move around a crowd of people, and when our eye contact breaks, I run.

  I skip around the other end of the bar, and run into the mesh of people on the far right of the dance floor. I can see him looking around, confused. The sight has me laughing as I skirt around to the back. Now I am behind him, spying from a far.

  I walk to the back wall, pretending to be trading dirty glasses for clean ones. Peering up over the crowd, I notice he is talking to Lydia. Is he really asking about me? She shrugs. What is he asking her?

  From this distance, it looks like he has just stepped out of a
board meeting. Navy blue or black slacks (it's dark), white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, and a sleek blazer to accompany the whole ensemble. I picture him wearing a tie before he came here, and took it off for a night out.

  I am ripped away from my thought, when I realize he's standing in front of me.

  What the fuck! You daydreaming floosy! I curse.

  "Are you running away from me, Alex?" is the first thing he says.

  Damn, I like the sound of my name coming out of his mouth. It's cool and crisp.

  "What if I am, sir?"

  He grins and runs his hand through his messy blond hair, clearly amused with me.

  "When are you off?"

  Wow, he doesn't mess around.

  My eyes go wide for a second, and I shake my head no. "Way past your bedtime, I'm sure." I walk away.

  "Hey! Alex!" He shouts like it's an order, which annoys and intrigues me at the same time, but my name on his lips stops me in three steps. I flip around even though I know I should run.

  "Yes, sir? Did you need something?" I am trying to be as neutral and polite as possible. I am trying to act as if he doesn't affect me, and as if he is just another customer.

  He sighs, sounding somewhat exasperated. "Please don't call me sir, just Jeremy."

  I bite my lip. "Is there anything you need, Jeremy?"

  For some reason, saying his name makes me uncomfortable. It's too personal. I don't want to know him better. More like I shouldn't. He looks nervous.

  "Yeah, can I take you out sometime, maybe at a time when you're not so riled up? Although, that may be what I like about you. I can't tell." His mouth curls upward as he says it, and it makes my body clench.

  Why does he have to be so beautiful? And why do I have to be such a dumb girl right now?

  I laugh, but I immediately cover my mouth. He looks wounded, and I feel guilty.

  "Jeremy, do you make it a habit of asking out waitresses at nightclubs?" Maybe I am a dime a dozen. I don’t like that thought.

  He seems baffled by my boldness, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

  "Um ... not normally, no." His tone makes me think he probably has before, though it's not often. The thought still doesn't sit well with me. I sigh, realizing none of this matters. I forcefully bring my eyes to lock with his.

  "You can't take me out, Jeremy." It's the truth. He can't. It breaks protocol.

  Because you've always cared about protocol? my subconscious sneers.

  He looks shocked, as if he’s never been told no.

  "Why the hell not?"

  Is he going to throw a tantrum?

  "Because I said so. Trust me on this. I'm sorry, but I have to walk away now."

  He looks dumbfounded by the interaction, and I think I am biting my lip so hard it might bleed, but I turn around and walk back to the bar.

  Why do I feel so terrible?

  Because this job has fucked up your love life tenfold!

  I sigh at the unfortunate truth.

  I peer down at my watch, and it's about half past midnight. I wonder if I could get out of here an hour or so early.

  "Lydia, is it cool I leave early tonight?"

  She looks annoyed by the request, but I don't care. She checks numbers on the register, looks up, and says, "Just let your tables know, and then tell Francesca. She's looking for some extra tips tonight."

  I grin. "Thank you, Lydia. I have a big exam I should be studying for, and this will really help."

  She waves her hand as if to dismiss me. She doesn't care either.

  The only problem I have now is that I have to go back to Marcus's table. How can I face them after what happened between Jeremy and me? Why do I want to throw a tantrum now?

  Keep it together, Turner.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Distractions & Follow Through

  ALEX TURNER

  I straighten my shorts as I think about ways to salvage the night. This is my fifth time working here. Derek is going to be pissed that I didn't make any progress, and that I left early. Shit.

  I take a deep breath as I approach Marcus's table. What's worse is, Jeremy already has his eyes on me.

  I look away and notice Marcus is curious to see what his friend is staring at and turns around. Marcus's face slinks into a slow, lazy smile at the sight of me.

  "Hello, boys." They all stop what they are doing to look at me—all of them. Why do I find it unnerving all of a sudden? "I just wanted to inform you that I'll be heading out for the night, but I thought I could put in another round of drinks for you all." My words sound crisp and confident. Thank goodness.

  Jeremy is not letting up with his stare, and with this sort of secret smile playing on his lips, he has me wanting to run. Does he think I'm leaving because of him? Because, he would be half-right.

  "Leaving?" Marcus sputters. "But the night is about to get interesting." Catching me completely off guard, Marcus pulls me into the booth to take a seat. I force out a giggle, and slide out.

  "I really must be going. I have to study." Please don't touch me. I don't know if pawning myself off as a starving student will work.

  Jeremy chimes in this time. "Well, we are about to leave. Do you mind closing out our tab, and letting us walk you out?"

  It all seems inappropriate, but I am willing to consider this an opportunity to get Marcus's attention before it's too late. Maybe I will slip him my number without the prying eyes of Jeremy. I agree with a timid, "Sure."

  Looking around at his boys, he says matter-of-factly, "It's on me," and hands me his credit card. If he thinks that will impress me, he is dead wrong.

  I make my way to the register to close out their $400 tab, and return promptly to their table. I hold back rolling my eyes when I hand him back his card.

  "Are we meeting you outside?"

  "I really just need a cab."

  He smiles, ignoring my statement.

  "Meet you out there in ten, then?"

  I look back at Marcus, who has his eyes on me as he licks his lips. I know what I have to do.

  "All right, in ten."

  I scurry to the back room, pull my black zip-up hoodie over my shoulders, and submit to the reality that this isn't my best look. I hastily slip off my heels, stuffing them in my pack, and pull on my black chucks as a comfortable replacement.

  Taking a piece of paper out, I scribble my cell phone number on it so I can give it to Marcus. I am sure he will call me. If not, then I don't know what I'll do.

  I walk through the club to the front door, and there they are, though most of the men have vanished. There is only Luc, the strange man I don't recognize; Marcus, who is puffing on a cigarette and I ache to ask him for a hit; and Jeremy, standing there as if he stepped out of some high-end glossy magazine, his crystal eyes practically twinkling in the darkness.

  Why does he have to be so distracting?

  Before they see me coming, I hear Jeremy say, "Ya know, man, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one? Those things are gonna kill you. Didn't your mother ever tell you that?" in reference to Marcus's nicotine habit, and it has me regretting my own.

  "Kiss my ass, Hunt."

  I walk up and command the men's attention. Lucky for me, Marcus goes in for the kill before Jeremy has time to think, which pleases me. It makes this whole thing easier.

  Marcus has been drinking a lot, which I'm sure has upped his confidence. He puts his hand on my arm, tugging me closer to him. I will play this to my advantage; I have to. Pay or play, now is the time to act.

  Marcus speaks first. "Hey, it really was a pleasure meeting you. Do you mind if I call you sometime?"

  My mouth drops slightly. He thinks it's because I am pleased he asked, but in actuality, it's because he is making this damn easy for me.

  I open my mouth to speak, but the conversation behind Marcus distracts me.

  Jeremy is speaking fluent French with the stranger, Luc. With the sounds of the passing traffic, I can’t catch every word, but Jeremy is either annoyed wi
th the man or at me, because I notice his eyes keep darting back to me with a scowl. However, the sounds and words coming out of his mouth make the whole thing entirely sexy. My face heats up.

  Get a grip, Agent Turner.

  I focus on their conversation. I speak five languages other than English: French, Russian, Portuguese, Spanish, and Arabic. It comes in handy. I can't catch all of it, but it has something to do with Luc leaving town by the end of the weekend. I wonder if the Frenchman will have time to discuss biological warfare between now and Sunday.

  I bring my attention back to Marcus, who is still awaiting my answer. I smile, and instead of speaking, I hand him the piece of paper with my number on it.

  He grins like a child, and pockets it. It is almost adorable, but I have to remind myself he is the bad guy.

  "Definitely call me." I smirk. "Do you think maybe you can give me a ride home? Sorry if it's too much to ask. I can get a cab."

  His grin falls as his eyebrows furrow. He peers behind him at Luc, then back at me.

  "I would love to, but I have to meet with someone. I can call you, right?"

  Meet with someone at one in the morning? Now that sounds fishy.

  My request was a long shot anyway. I feign disappointment and pout.

  "Yes, please gimme a call." Even bolder—when I think Jeremy isn't looking—I lean in and kiss Marcus below the ear to seal the deal. I swear, I think he shivers.

  I pull away the moment the valet pulls up with his Mercedes. Still smiling, he waves at me, and hops into the driver's side. I should question his sobriety, but as I watch Luc join him in the passenger seat, other questions flood my mind.

  What are those two up to? I need to let Derek know. He can track them.

  The car pulls away, and I am alone with Jeremy, who is now standing right next to me.

  I stare into the distance, not wanting to make eye contact even though I know he's staring at me. I bob back and forth on my heels, waiting for a cab, wishing for this moment to be over. He scoffs next to me, and I still don't budge.

 

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