Exposed by Fate

by Tessa Bailey

  Thankfully, a wave of cabs came down the block then, and he hailed the first one. “Text me when you get home.”

  She rolled her eyes and ducked into the back seat. “See you tomorrow. I won’t back out, you know.”

  A minute later, when Oliver realized he’d been staring after the long-gone cab, he shook himself and went back inside. His bed suddenly sounded incredibly appealing, but he’d told Eliza he would handle Porter first. Keeping an eye out for Wendy so he could avoid her, he skirted around the edge of the lounge toward the bar, where he immediately caught sight of the man. As if sensing Oliver, he looked up, then glanced behind him, obviously scanning for Eliza. Oliver tried to douse his irritation, but it wouldn’t go away. So when he finally reached Porter, fully intending to tell him Eliza had a family emergency, he said something else entirely.

  “Stay away from her.”

  Chapter Four

  I kissed an Oliver, and I liked it.

  Eliza kept the serene expression glued to her face as she listened to her boss wrap up their Monday morning board meeting. She hadn’t heard a damn word of it. Since waking up this morning, she’d been focused on her internal countdown ticker. Seven hours and thirty-three minutes to go until she actually commuted to her best friend’s womanizing brother’s house with the intention of getting busy. Just two consenting adults getting it on, passing on some good old BDSM know-how, nothing to see here. Moving right along.

  Is it too early in the day for tequila?

  She wouldn’t back out. She wouldn’t. Not after her confident parting shot last night. The plan was solid, she just had to remember that. When it came to men, she lacked any knowledge of what they liked. Hell, she didn’t know what she liked. No better person to find out with than resident sexpert Oliver. In a few short months, he probably wouldn’t even remember that their three little lessons had taken place. She’ll have faded into the whirlpool of women he swam in on a daily basis, and happily moved on. To Porter, or someone else.

  If she enjoyed the sweet loving heck out of those lessons, well, could anyone blame her? As if she’d voiced the question aloud, Eliza glanced around at her female co-workers seated around the table. No one has anything to say? Huh? I didn’t think so.

  Most women her age had indulged their libidos at will. Throw in the fast-paced, chock-full-of-men city they lived in, and you could raise that percentage by double-digits. She’d had sex twice. Bad sex. In fact, bad was an under exaggeration. Her first time had been in the back of a Honda Accord, and the guy hadn’t even lasted through the end of, “Let’s Get it Started,” by the Black Eyed Peas. Ironic? Oh, yeah. The second time, she’d been on vacation visiting her mother in Maine for Christmas. She’d bumped into her old high school crush who now managed a Staples. They’d gone back to his apartment and had sex on his twin bed while she stared up at the Penthouse centerfold he’d taped to his ceiling.

  She’d earned Oliver Preston, dammit. Just once, she’d like to know what all the fuss was about. Not just sex-wise, but Oliver-wise. What left all those women starry-eyed and clinging to his arm like a life preserver at the parties they’d attended together? Last night when he’d turned that smoldering interest on her, she’d seen her chance to find out. An introduction into what her body needed, what it craved. She’d find out if the fantasies she’d been having for years about being dominated had any merit, or if they were just her confused brain guessing what she wanted. But Eliza didn’t think so. The idea of being restrained, left to a man’s mercy…

  Eliza shifted in her seat, managing an interested expression for her CEO, Regina, who was now detailing their plans for redesigning a hotel lobby in Soho. The project didn’t concern Eliza, since she worked on residential accounts exclusively, but she needed to keep an ear tuned to the presentation in case the topic changed. Not easy, when in addition to her nerves performing triple axels in her stomach, she also had an oversized case of best friend guilt. If Caroline knew her plans for the evening, she would shit monkeys. It had always gone unspoken between them that Oliver was off limits. Player or not, Caroline had always been protective of him, even though she was the younger sibling. Furthermore, they’d both eye-rolled their way through most of his girlfriends and his inability to keep one around, so Eliza’s plan would probably shock the hell out of Caroline.

  Honestly, Eliza was a little shocked at herself. She’d always done things by the book. Followed social codes. Last night, with Oliver’s mouth on her neck and his erection pressing between her legs, her best friend had been the furthest thing from her mind. But after watching Caroline exist in a state of sexual bliss for the last month, she was ready for her own experience. Not that she was jealous, per se…

  Okay, she was jealous. She wanted to walk to work glowing, memories of the previous night fresh in her head, her thighs sore from holding on tight.

  Eliza fanned herself and tried to think of something else. Something safer. She allowed Porter’s image to materialize in her head, but it was quickly replaced by Oliver. A frown marred her forehead. Oliver would only be temporary, she had to remember that. She would design a bedroom around zebra print before falling into his stunned pile of sexually electrified women. Surely her nerves over the upcoming evening were the only reason his smiling face kept overshadowing Porter.

  “All right, I’ve finished boring you all into a coma. Everyone is excused. And while you’re designing today, remember ‘form and function,’” Regina said, clapping her hands once. “Eliza, please remain behind. I need to speak with you.”

  She tried not to let the horror show in her face when every head turned in her direction before exiting the room. Had she been too obvious in her daydreaming?

  The door closed behind the final person, and Regina smiled. “Goodness, Eliza. When have you ever been in trouble?” When Eliza just looked at her blankly, Regina sighed. “You’re looking at me as if I’m a grade school principal.”

  Eliza relaxed. “You’re far too well dressed for that.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.”

  They shared a laugh. As always, Eliza was thankful her boss didn’t rule the office with fear, instead treating every employee with respect and limiting her criticism. Morale at Rothman and Cower always remained high, and Eliza considered herself lucky she’d been hired by such a unique firm.

  Regina settled into the seat beside her. “I want to preface this news by saying your work has always been excellent, but lately, you’ve really been putting us all to shame. So, knock it off.” She tried for a stern expression, but couldn’t contain her smile. “Kidding, kidding. As you know, the partners are attending a gala Saturday night. God knows which cause this time. Endangered owls or something? Anyway, it has come to my attention that Conrad Sterns will be in attendance. He has just purchased a thirty-room home in the Hamptons and needs a designer.”

  Eliza sat up straighter in her seat. The name Conrad Sterns didn’t ring a bell, but if he’d just purchased such expensive real estate, he had to be important. Surely they weren’t considering her? She’d never done a job of that magnitude. “Only thirty rooms?” Eliza squeaked out.

  Her boss giggle-snorted. “He’s young, Eliza. Just like you, he’s very cutting edge. We think you’d be the perfect candidate to approach him at the gala. You speak his language.”

  She blew out a breath, excitement bubbling in her chest. “I don’t know what to say, except…let me at him.”

  Regina held up her hand for a high five, which Eliza smacked soundly. “That’s what I like to hear.” She grew serious. “I don’t have to tell you that landing a job like this one would make you a shoo-in for junior partner, do I?”

  Eliza gulped. “I think you just did.”

  …

  “Good morning, Mr. Preston,” a voice purred behind Oliver in the elevator.

  He locked eyes with a pretty brunette in the steel doors and flashed her a winning smile. Had they met before? If so, he didn’t recall. His thoughts were interrupted when
the elevator doors rolled open and another woman boarded, her heavily-applied perfume making his eyes tear.

  “Mr. Preston,” the newcomer husked. “How was your weekend?”

  He started to answer, but felt the brunette behind him sidle closer. “I could have made it better,” she whispered in his ear. “Much better.”

  Christ, it was an ambush. Were they in cahoots?

  The bell dinged above him, signaling they had reached the floor for Preston’s ReVAMPed. He barely resisted a shout of hallelujah as he lunged from the elevator. Still, being rude wasn’t his thing. Before the doors could roll closed, Oliver turned. “You girls behave today,” he murmured, adding a wink for good measure.

  The doors closed on a round of sighs.

  Minutes later, he avoided his sister’s gaze as she took her seat across from him at the conference table, focusing instead on making last minute notes before the meeting. Eliza hadn’t called to back out of their arrangement yet, and strangely, he’d woken up this morning hoping like hell she wouldn’t. It might have had something to do with the epically painful wood he’d woken with, fresh from an erotic dream starring guess who. However, the sexy blonde who’d kept him awake most of last night wasn’t required to sit across from Caroline, taking a guilt bath this morning. He had the pleasure of doing it for the both of them, didn’t he?

  Christ, she was going to be worth it.

  “Should we start?” Caroline asked, grinning from ear to ear. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her without a smile. She’d always been a positive person, but lately she was Suzy-fucking-Sunshine. Not that he minded. He loved seeing his sister happy. It just gave him the uncomfortable feeling his own life was sorely lacking. “Lots on the agenda today.”

  “Ready in this corner,” Asher Laurie answered, to his right. His alternative lifestyle publication had merged with their finance side, creating their BDSM/money matters hybrid, Preston’s ReVAMPed. Asher worked as editorial director for the ReVAMPed side of the magazine, while Caroline continued to focus mostly on the finance end. They had clear-cut, defined roles whereas Oliver tended to dabble on both sides. He also brought in money, advertising, stirred up interest. The staff referred to him as their mascot, which made everyone laugh, but lately had been getting under his skin.

  “Great.” Caroline flipped open the folder in front of her. “Let’s start with the VAMP side. Asher, I read the article you submitted Friday. What was the title?” Caroline shifted through some paperwork. “‘Are you taking part in BDSM and don’t even know it?’” She leaned back in her chair. “I think we should run it as the cover story. It has the exact tone we’re looking for to attract the new readership. It’s fun and accessible. Oliver, what do you think?”

  He nodded. “I read it, too, and was going to make the same suggestion. For someone who might be intimidated by the idea, it’s an invitation to pick up the magazine. I say we run with it.”

  His sister smiled. “Great. We’ll need an eye-catching graphic to go along with it. Asher, can you handle that end? We’ll need it by Wednesday.”

  Asher made a note. “On it.”

  Caroline hummed in her throat. “If we’re going to cater to beginners with the cover story, we need something inside for established readers to keep a balance.” She split a look between Oliver and Asher. “Any suggestions?”

  Asher consulted his notes. “One of the new writers was working on an article about switching places. Dominants becoming submissives, whether for a short period of time or permanently. I can check on the status.”

  “Yes. Find out and get back to me.” Caroline tapped her pen against her lips. “It might be interesting to run a poll on the website and include it with the article. ‘Do you and your partner exchange power?’ Something along those lines.”

  “I’ll make a quick call and have it up by this morning,” Oliver said.

  They talked for a while longer about articles in various stages of research. Oliver discussed possible ways to attract new advertisers selling cutting edge products that would interest the gadget savvy businessman. Yes, they were focused on finance and sex, but it didn’t mean they should overlook technology. Caroline and Asher agreed to incorporate that aspect into future features.

  When the meeting began wrapping up, Caroline leaned forward on her elbows. “Is there anything else before we end the meeting?”

  “There is one thing.” Oliver shifted in his seat. “This is a side project I’ve been working on. It concerns all of us, and I wanted to get your opinions.”

  Asher ran a hand over his graying hair. “The last time you had a side project, Preston’s new tagline became Bonds and Bondage.”

  Knowing Asher’s comment was meant to be good-natured, Oliver laughed it off.

  Caroline crossed her arms. “I still think that tagline is brilliant.”

  His sister’s unwavering confidence in him usually made him feel ten feet tall. Today, with plans to debauch her best friend come the evening, he felt like a class-A jackass. With an effort, he pushed aside the guilt. He had something important that needed discussing and now was the moment. “I’ve been working on setting up a memorial fund in mom’s name.” When Caroline fell back in her chair, obviously surprised, he tugged on his collar and pushed on. “She never went to college and always regretted it. There are so many women who don’t have the opportunity, either. Why not send them in mom’s name?”

  When Caroline spoke, her eyes were noticeably damp. “I think it’s an amazing idea, Oliver.”

  “I’m all for keeping the magazine respectable, community-oriented. This is a great way to accomplish that.” Asher uncapped his pen and turned to a fresh sheet of notebook paper. “Have you worked out the financial end?”

  “Down to the last penny.” Oliver removed two proposals from his briefcase and slid them into the center of the conference table where Caroline and Asher each grabbed one. “I thought we should keep it local, since mom grew up here. I’ve already spoken with a handful of universities in the area who have had to reduce scholarships due to lack of federal funding. I’m going through those rejected applications as we speak.”

  “This is clean.” Asher nodded at the proposal. “And it won’t put a strain on our budget. Nice work.”

  “Have you told our father?” Caroline looked up at him. “He should know about this. It’s such a great—”

  “Actually,” Oliver interrupted. “I’d like to wait until I have an applicant and the paperwork is ready to finalize. I just want it to be solid.” When a hint of sympathy crept into his sister’s expression, he stood and started to gather his things. He and his father had made some progress since his merger idea had saved the magazine, but he didn’t want his idea rejected before it had the chance to succeed. He smiled at Caroline to let her know all was well, but didn’t invite her to try and convince him otherwise. “I’ll keep you updated.”

  Without waiting for a response, he left the conference room.

  Chapter Five

  Eliza stood outside Oliver’s apartment door, tapping the bottle of ouzo against her thigh. He’d already buzzed her into the building, so she didn’t have long before he opened the door and found her standing there like a nit wit. She let her head fall back on her shoulders, sucking a calming breath through her nose. The scent of marinara sauce coming from inside the apartment had her muscles relaxing. Dinner she could handle. Hopefully by the time they finished, she would have stopped feeling like her muscles might strain from nerves. In a final attempt to shake them off, she danced in two quick circles, then raised her hand to knock.

  “I’m watching you through the peephole, bunny.”

  She threw an exasperated look toward the ceiling. “Open the door before I drain this bottle of ouzo in shame.”

  “We can’t have that.” The door swung open to reveal a barefoot Oliver, wearing jeans and a worn-in gray T-shirt. A dish towel was tossed carelessly over one shoulder, matching the finger-tousled hair on top of his
head. Forget the marinara sauce. He looked like a meal. With a breath-stealing smile, he leaned against the doorjamb and looked at her thoughtfully.

  “What?” Eliza squashed the urge to fidget.

  “I’m trying to decide how to greet you. Normally it would be a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but that was before. And this is now.”

  She licked suddenly dry lips. “How do you want to greet me?”

  “Can’t tell you, babe, or I’ll have to do it.”

  “Well. You certainly set a tone,” she said, proud that her voice didn’t wobble. Her knees were another story. “Why don’t you start by letting me into the apartment?”

  He turned sideways and nudged open the door a fraction more, barely giving her enough room to pass. She gave him an exasperated look and went to squeeze past him. Oh God, the second her curves dragged across all that muscle, she felt an electrical current shoot through her body.

  Oliver brought his fingers to her chin, bringing her head up. Their bodies were flush, pressed together from chest to thigh. She could feel his arousal against her stomach and although she wanted to writhe against it, she knew she needed to get her bearings first.

  “Hi,” he said softly.

  “Hi.” She held the bottle up. “I brought ouzo.”

  “Why? Were they out of wine?”

  “No. It’s a tradition in my family to begin every new business venture with a shot of this stuff.” Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look. “It’s supposed to be good luck. Although, my grandparents are dead broke, so maybe we should drink wine instead.”

  His shook his head, trailing his fingers down the sensitive skin of her arm to take the bottle. “I like this better.”

  Eliza’s brain threatened to short-circuit. “Me too.”