Chapter Eighteen
Laila
‘Sky Lobby’
I was still on top of him and the room was still spinning. My body was on fire. I was trying with all my might to come down from the high I’d been propelled to, but being straddled on top of him, staring into his heavy, hazel eyes was making it impossible.
“I want to show you something,” he said running his thumb across my cheek. “Is that okay?”
I shivered from his touch and nodded.
Dylan lifted me off him and I stood, rearranging my skirt, my heels still on. I looked down at my blouse, which he’d ruined in the throes of passion, and he grinned.
“I can fix that,” he said pointing at my blouse.
“So not only are you the prominent CEO of Hamilton Associates, you’re also a tailor?” He held up his finger and hurried over to his desk. When he returned, he had a stapler in his hand. I laughed as he stapled the edges of the garment together.
“Good as new,” he claimed.
I pressed my lips together.
“I’ll buy you a new one. Now come with me.”
We stepped into the corridor and both of us surveyed the halls. Dylan grabbed my hand and walked towards the elevator.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He shushed me as the elevator opened and we stepped inside. Dylan opened a small door on the number pad and punched in eight digits, then he stood back, putting his hands into his pockets, leaning against the back of the elevator. That sexy half-smile was dashed on his face and I forced myself to behave.
We said nothing as the elevator ascended one floor. I remembered Carter mentioning this floor on the first day of the internship, but I couldn’t remember what he’d called it. The elevator door slid open, and as if reading my mind, Dylan announced our location. “Welcome to the Sky Lobby.”
My mouth was suspended as I exited the elevator first. It was the size of the entire ground floor of the building, but there was no roof. The ceiling was made of thick glass and the dark, night sky hung over our heads. A fabulous crystal chandelier was suspended over the living space. Crisp, white couches and settees were stylishly arranged in the living room and a floating staircase ascended to another floor.
“The master bedroom is up there,” Dylan said noticing where I was looking. “The recreation room is over there,” he pointed to the right, “and there’s an office off to the left. This is the place I come to when I need to get away.”
“It’s spectacular,” I breathed taking it all in. “It’s a shame the city lights obstruct the view of the stars,” I commented. I turned around to face him. “Can you imagine? Sex under the – ” I caught myself and my chin dipped.
“I know,” he agreed smiling. “When I was designing it, I considered the same thing.” He smirked and walked over to the wall. He pressed a button and my eyes lifted to the ceiling. A thin veil started to cover the surface from left to right. Dylan dimmed the lights and an entire universe illuminated above us. I gasped at the splendor. Stars and planets glowed, and the soft Milky Way danced on the ceiling. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words would come out.
I jerked when I noticed the presence of someone in a kitchen any chef would have been proud to own. A middle-aged Latino man, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt was unpacking plastic containers and pulling out china plates.
“I didn’t realize we weren’t alone,” I said running my hands across my forearms.
“That’s Ignacio, my butler. It’s late and you haven’t eaten. I figured you might be hungry, so I took the liberty of asking him to bring us a bite to eat.” He paused. “I hope that’s okay.”
I looked around the room, shocked to see a dining table set for two, complete with candelabra and burning candles. I inhaled, skeptical of being in Dylan’s presence any longer than I had to, and especially in an environment such as this. Thanks to unmitigated desire and inadequate willpower, I had already compromised my professional and ethical standards for this man.
But what did I expect?
Three days ago, I had tasted him and now my appetite was ravenous. I’d seen his name on the caller ID earlier and the walls of my pleasure zone had clenched in automatic recollection of our erotic encounter. I’d tried to stay strong, but it had quickly faded, and it was only a matter of minutes before I was rocking on the waves of the storm we were creating.
I looked at the day-old stubble on his chin and the perfection that was his mouth. I looked up at the stars twinkling above and my eyes floated to the master bedroom where I could only imagine the aesthetic splendor.
I would be a fool to stay in this place.
I gazed into Dylan’s face as he approached me and pulled me into a tender embrace. He lowered his head into my neck and kissed my skin. “Will you stay?” he asked.
Yes....
My throat tightened. “I don’t think I should,” I said.
He pulled his head up and stared at me. A frown was etched into his perfect features and disappointment flashed on his face.
“It’s late and I have to be in early tomorrow...”
He nodded. “I understand,” he said. He looked over at Ignacio. “Will you at least take a doggie-bag? You can eat at home.”
I smiled and ran my hand over his cheek. “I’d like that.”
Ignacio prepared a plate and covered it with a silver cover. He wrapped fine cutlery in a linen napkin and placed the items in a bag, which he sat on the counter.
Dylan and I stood in front of each other. I was staring at my stilettos and he was trying to catch my attention.
“Well...” he paused. “How are you getting home?”
“I can call a cab.”
“It’s late.”
“I’m a big girl,” I responded.
“Laila, let me take you home,” he insisted.
I raised an eyebrow. “The last time you took me home, we ended up on my couch undressed,” I whispered. “Not that we’ve been any better behaved here.”
He grinned. “Fine, you don’t trust that I can deliver you to your home and leave, which I’m not sure I’d trust me to do that either, I might add...”
We laughed.
“So Ignacio will drop you off.”
“Dylan – ”
“Don’t argue with me,” he advised. “You’re not the only one who’s stubborn in this relationship.” At the release of the last word, his mouth snapped shut.
Back in my office, Dylan supervised me as I gathered my briefcase and belongings, but he didn’t say anything. Outside, we stood on the sidewalk and waited as another one of his expensive cars pulled up at the curb, with Ignacio in the driver’s seat. Dylan opened the back door and helped me in. He closed it and tapped on the window.
I wound it down.
“I meant to give you something,” he said. Dylan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small packet. He passed it to me through the window. “It’s your ticket to France. We leave this Saturday.”
I paused and then took it from him. “You were serious about that?”
He stared at me and I looked at the white envelope.
“Does Ryder know I’m going?” I asked. His mouth tightened, and I wondered if I’d said something wrong.
“Why? Is there a problem with Hanson?”
“No, I just wondered,” I said. “He’s very competitive and sometimes it’s difficult to work with him, that’s all.”
Dylan grunted. “He’s aware. I informed him on Monday.”
I rubbed my elbow. “What did he say?” I asked.
Dylan’s face hardened, and his tone turned stiff. “Laila, is there something I don’t know about?” he asked. “Something about you and Ryder that – ”
“No, not at all,” I said quickly. “I just wanted to know because – ”
He cut me off. “Ryder Hanson works for me. I issue the orders and he follows them, it’s that simple. If I tell him that I’m taking an employee on a business trip, he doesn�
�t have the authority to question that.” He lowered his voice. “Now if there’s something more I need to know about, please let me know.”
I lifted my chin, reading between the lines of what he was saying. “No, there’s nothing more,” I assured him. “I simply wanted to know.” I stared at his anguished face, trying to understand what was going through his mind. I drew a blank.
Dylan’s eyes softened. He leaned back into the window and kissed my mouth. Instinctively, my hand rose to his cheek and my fingers meddled with the stubble.
“Please call me when you get home,” he requested. “I want to know that you’ve arrived safely.”
I nodded, and he tapped on the window again. I wound it up and Ignacio pulled away from the curb.
Thirty minutes later we were passing through my neighborhood. When we passed the row of apartments where Ryder lived, I looked up at his window, surprised to see a light was on. Suddenly, it went out.
My brow furrowed.
Ten minutes later, Ignacio had parked and was opening my door. I walked into my dark apartment and pulled out my cell phone, dialing Dylan’s cell number. His voice filled my mind when he answered.
“I’m home safely,” I informed him. I dropped my briefcase to the floor and listened as he whispered things into my ear. I sat on the edge of my couch, smiling. “I have work to do tomorrow,” I said in response to a sexy statement he’d uttered. “Yes, I planned to stay late, but – ”. I listened as he commented further. My hand tightened on the small cell phone and I felt my body growing hot. “In that case... maybe,” I whispered.
He chuckled into my ear. “I’ll take that maybe,” he said. “Good night, ma belle fille.”
I shuddered, loving the sound of his French accent and the pet name he’d become accustomed to using.
“Good night, monsieur.”
Chapter Nineteen
Laila
‘2 A.M.’
I was sitting on the white, premium leather seat of the Hamilton Associates private jet, fake-reading a business magazine and fake-reviewing the bios of the businessmen to whom I would be presenting. I was trying to avoid bumping into Dylan, so I’d been the first to board. Everyone else entered the aircraft in single file. Mr. Carter, another executive, and three secretaries strolled in, pulling carry-ons and jesting amongst them.
I had never been on a private aircraft. Every time Papa and I had traveled to France, it had been commercial. The Boeing Business jet was luxurious with couches, a dining area, and a kitchen. The cream and gold color scheme flushed under the soft recessed lighting and the prestigious HA emblem was perforated on the walls of the cabin.
I had opted to select a seat in the front of the jet, near the 70-inch flat screen television.
“Welcome to Air Force One,” Mr. Carter whispered as he passed.
His secretary laughed, and her blonde hair shook as she smiled at me. “Put your feet up now, Laila,” she suggested. “Do you see that meeting table over there?” She pointed in the direction of the business center. “You can bet your boots that Mr. Hamilton is gonna have us working like we’re back in the office before we’re even a quarter of the way through this trip.”
“He wouldn’t be so callous,” I joked.
“I’m sure you know him by now, Laila,” she said lowering her gaze. “You’ve been on the team for long enough.”
She continued to her seat after squeezing my shoulder and I smiled, but it soon faded. Did I know Dylan Hamilton? Just thinking about how well I knew him caused me to cross my legs at the knee.
Everyone was on board except Dylan. Carter had taken a seat on the couch, pulled out his laptop, and was dictating instructions to his secretary. Mr. Bullman, the other executive, sat two rows behind me with his eyes closed. Dylan’s secretary had assumed her position at the very front of the aircraft behind an expensive royal blue curtain. It was clear that the seat next to her was reserved for him.
I was relieved at the thought.
I moistened my index finger and flipped through the pages of the report I was fake-reading. There would be five French executives and my task was to present the paper that Ryder and I had completed, discussing the five Ws and the H concept. At the CEO’s request, the presentation was to be done in French. I scanned the notes and scribbled down things that stood out to me. I pulled the cap off my highlighter and made another notation, reaching for the glass of wine which had been given to me by one of the attendants as soon as I’d boarded.
Then I heard him.
I looked up and my core vibrated.
“Good afternoon, team.” Dylan parted through the royal blue curtain looking irresistible in designer, slim-fit khakis and a powder blue cashmere pullover. His strong pectorals pressed against the sleek material and the collar of the blue and white checkered button-up underneath was open, peeking out at the top. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled over the edges of the pullover, which he’d pushed up to his strong forearms. The buckle of his Gucci belt was fitted over a package that I couldn’t pull my eyes from. Brown Gucci Common Low-Top sneakers donned his feet.
Our eyes locked and Dylan moistened his lips. I pulled my eyes away from him, conscious of the landscape, and peered blindly at my notes. He walked deeper into the cabin and stopped next to my seat, resting his arm on the top.
“Carter, don’t tell me you’re looking at that report again,” he called over my head.
“Have you looked at it?” Carter called back.
“Only a million times,” he replied with a chuckle. “Put it away and relax for a few hours. Leave all the work to Miss Renaud.” He walked deeper into the cabin and as his presence diminished, I released the breath I was holding.
“In that case, I can certainly relax,” Carter said laughing. “I have total confidence in her.”
Dylan shared a few words with Bullman and the secretaries, and soon, his presence was closing in on me again. The sweet rich aroma of his fragrance assailed me as he squeezed past and dropped into the empty seat next to me.
I stared at the document on the table and he nudged me with his elbow, taking advantage of the privacy the seating arrangement was allowing.
“Did you hear?” he asked initiating conversation. “Carter has total confidence in you.”
“And what about you, Mr. Hamilton?” I flipped a page of document and then turned my gaze on him.
His lips parted as his eyes roaming over my face. “I’m more confident in you than he could ever be,” he whispered. He grazed his fingertips on my hand. His voice dropped even lower. “I want to see you tonight.”
“To go over the presentation?”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “to go over the presentation. You’ll need to practice. We can rehearse all night if you want. Make sure you wear those black heels so you can be in character.”
I suppressed a smile. “So, this is what we’re doing now? I thought we were going to leave all of that in the past. We’ve already surpassed our allowance,” I whispered looking back at the document.
“When did we decide that? On Friday or Wednesday?” He paused. “Or Thursday?” Dylan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ma belle fille, I never said that, and if you came to that conclusion I wasn’t in on the vote.” His eyes dropped to my throat and the diamond pendant that touched the top of my cleavage.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I accused him. I’d intended the statement to be more convincing, but I’d failed.
“I know,” he admitted, running his finger over my jean-clad thigh. He reached into the leather messenger bag that was slung across his chest and pulled out a package.
“Hold onto this for me,” he requested, “but don’t open it. I might need it later and I’ll get it from you when I do.”
I took it from his hands and felt the odd-shaped item inside of it. I narrowed my eyes at him and slid it into my briefcase. He smiled and rose from the seat, pressing his way past me again. “2 A.M.”
I looked at him quizzically and he answered by moiste
ning his lips.
Chapter Twenty
Laila
‘Oui’
The seven-hour flight to Paris afforded little sleep as, true to the secretary’s word, Dylan had us up combing over the details of what we needed to realize on the trip. I offered suggestions and made comments, some of which Dylan accepted and others he rejected. Mr. Carter also had contributions and remarks about the ideas presented. The process of refining the particulars took up half the trip. With two hours left to fly, I reclined in my seat and attempted to grab a nap before we hit the ground and were moving all over again.
Everything had lapsed into silence as my colleagues drifted off to sleep. Dylan had vanished behind the royal blue curtain leaving me to imagine what would happen when the clock struck two.
I was eager to do the presentation. That Dylan and entrusted me with such an important task was overwhelming, but I was ready. I was ready to show him who the better intern was. With only a few weeks left before the internship ended, I needed to pack a punch. Now was the time and this was the opportunity.
We arrived at Charles de Gaulle International and were whisked away to our rooms at the luxurious Le Burgundy. I took note of the room number on my key, dragging my luggage behind me. Carter pulled his belongings past me and stopped at a room a few doors from mine.
“You should sleep well,” he said, slipping his card into the reader. “It’s been a really long day. Traveling can be exhausting.”
“It is, especially to Europe. I’m looking forward to having tomorrow off. It’ll give me an opportunity to catch myself before the presentation on Monday. I want to perform well. I really want Hamilton Associates to win this. I want to bring this home for you.”
“For us,” he clarified. “Miss Renaud, you’re not just an intern. This has never happened before. We’ve never taken an intern on a business trip or put something this crucial in one of their hands. You are definitely a part of this team. This will be for us.”
Oui: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 1) Page 11