Temptation to Submit

by Jennifer Leeland

  With another muttered oath, he spun away from the bed and went into the living room part of the suite to pour himself a drink. He was, no doubt, out of his mind to keep Victoria here, but she was too drunk to get back to her room, and he didn’t want anyone to see her in that condition. Hopefully, she hadn’t been seen when she’d hauled off and hit him in the bar.

  Her coworkers wouldn’t cut the accounting secretary much slack. They already resented her involvement in the negotiations with ConFed during the takeover. For many months, Atticus thought she hadn’t known that her insistence on being a part of the negotiations was viewed as a betrayal of some sort.

  But Atticus’s mind went back to a night two months ago that revealed she’d known from the beginning. Two of the software managers had joined negotiations for a few weeks to hammer out specific deals with marketing contracts Sunsoon had before ConFed had bought up the stock and taken over the company.

  One of the managers, Jerry Arnold, had made several biting remarks during the meetings, which Victoria had ignored. The comments had skirted personal attacks that made Atticus’s jaw clench. The final straw had been when Arnold made a direct comment about Nell.

  “Where is the Dragon Bitch anyway?” he asked.

  Victoria’s head snapped up. “If you mean Nell, she’s in another meeting.” She shot a glance at Atticus. “And I’m sure our little inside jokes aren’t very interesting to Mr. Paulus. Let’s keep it professional, Jerry.”

  “Professional?” Jerry said with a sly smile. “I’m always professional. And loyal.”

  Victoria sighed. “Is that a stab at me?” She narrowed her eyes and pointed her pen at him. “Look, Jerry. I’m well aware that everyone thinks I shouldn’t throw out the welcome mat to ConFed when they bought us out. But I think we were lucky,” she said, and Atticus had to focus not to show his surprise. “All in all, ConFed is willing to keep your sorry ass working, and Sunsoon was heading for layoffs. So why don’t you cut the crap. Either you’re going to stay and work hard, or quit. Your choice.”

  Jerry opened his mouth and then shut it abruptly. He nodded sharply, and the meeting went on smoothly.

  In fact, Jerry had been more forthcoming about software expenditures. That hadn’t stopped Atticus from marking the asshole for relocation to the San Francisco office.

  No, she hadn’t had it easy the last six months. It wasn’t going to get any easier either. Tony had decided that Atticus would run the Los Angeles accounting office, and that made Victoria Rodgers his secretary.

  She’d assaulted him in public. She’d gotten drunk and disorderly at a ConFed conference. Her punishment was not going to be what she hoped it was. Atticus was sure that she hoped he would spank her, fuck her, force her into the contractual obligation she’d signed under the fraternization clause.

  But he wasn’t going to do that. When she did declare that she wanted to be in a Dominant/submissive relationship, she was going to have to beg him to be her Dominant.

  He drained the whiskey from the glass. Yeah, right.

  * * * *

  “Wake up, Ms. Rodgers. Your phone is ringing.”

  Tori vaguely heard her ringtone and tried to open her eyes. Damn. What the hell had she been thinking last night? She tried to swallow, and the taste in her mouth was awful. She reached out her hand for her phone, and someone shoved it toward her.

  “Hello?”

  “Tori?” Nell’s voice sounded strange. And way too chipper for this early in the morning.

  “Where the hell did you go last night?” Tori sat up and almost immediately lay back down as the room spun and her stomach heaved.

  “It’s a long story and one I won’t go into. I’m here with Mark—”

  “You’re with who?” Tori practically screamed it. She’d assumed that Mark had taken Nell back to her room, not that he’d stay all night. When Tori had accused Atticus, it had been more to needle him, not because she believed it.

  “Mark. His name is Mark, and he’s one of the—”

  “I know who he is.” She glanced up, saw that Atticus was within earshot, and lowered her voice. “Oh my God. I tried to make them let me take you home, but that arrogant fuck Paulus wouldn’t let me.” If he was listening, that was his problem. Damn it. Nell was stuck in some hotel room with a stranger, and all because they’d gotten too drunk the night before.

  “I’m at the Hyatt,” Nell said in a reassuring voice. Why the hell was Nell reassuring her? “And Atticus isn’t an arrogant fuck.”

  Oh yes he is. Tori was about to argue with Nell about it, but it was a waste of time. After all, it was an old argument between them.

  “He wanted me to tell you where I was.”

  There was no doubt in Tori’s mind who “he” was. Mark Conners. The mysterious CEO who was almost never seen in public. She should have forced those bastards to tell her where Nell had been last night. Then Nell’s words and tone seeped into Tori’s fuzzy brain. “You’re not coming back?” Of course, Tori wasn’t in their hotel room either, but Nell didn’t have to know that. “Nell, what’s going on?”

  Nell was silent for a long time. Had that bastard touched her? Tori would kill him. Right after she murdered that six-foot-four asshole in the other room. “Nell?”

  “Honestly, Tori, Mark is going to be my new boss, and he wanted to work this weekend.”

  Work? Seriously? “Are you kidding?” She tried not to sound desperate, like she needed rescuing, even though she most definitely did. “We put up with those long, boring policy meetings, and I thought we were going to cut loose.”

  “You and Gina have fun. I’d just slow you down.” Nell sounded concerned at the idea of Tori and Gina let loose on Vegas. If only she knew.

  “I want texts at least once a day.” She thought for a moment. Should she tell Nell what she speculated about Mark Conners? Probably not. “I only know what I read about him.”

  Her call waiting beeped. Gina. Shit. “I have to get this,” she said to Nell. “Text me.”

  She answered Gina’s call. “What the hell happened to you last night?”

  “I’m going home.” No preamble. No explanation. No apology for taking the damn car. What the fuck was going on with her friends?

  “What do you mean? We have a flight tomorrow.” Tori noticed that Atticus sat in the other room on his computer. Didn’t he ever stop working?

  “I’m not staying here. Look, don’t ask me any questions, okay?” Gina sounded heartbroken.

  “Gina, what the fuck is going on? Don’t do this. Talk to me.” Tori clutched her cell phone. “Where are you? Are you at the room? I’ll—”

  “No!” The word exploded from the phone. “I can’t talk about it now. Just— Is Nell okay?”

  “She’s at the Hyatt with Mark Conners.” Tori felt like her world had been shattered. Gina and Nell were Tori’s anchors, her solid ground when other things seemed unstable and uncertain. It seemed as if both of them were falling apart. Gina was the most confident of the three. Why was she running away? And what the hell had happened last night? “Gina, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Everything,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’ve got a ride. I’m going back with Tami and Celia. Don’t worry, Tori.”

  “Don’t worry? How can you say that? Gina—”

  “I’ll see you on Monday.” And she was gone.

  Tori stared at her cell phone and immediately called Gina back. It went straight to voice mail.

  That was it. She got to her feet and realized she was stark fucking naked. It just raised her temperature higher. What had she done last night that could result in a lack of clothes this morning? There wasn’t a good answer to that question. Her clothes were neatly draped over a chair, and she yanked them on.

  Barefoot and pissed beyond reason, she stomped into the next room. “Finch, you’d better have a damn good explanation.”

  He didn’t look up from his computer. “An explanation for what?”

  “Don’t you dare play d
umb with me. This is orchestrated by you and your buddies.” She clenched her fists.

  When he didn’t respond, she huffed out a breath and searched for her purse. Once she found it, she stuffed her garters inside, grabbed her shoes, and marched toward the door.

  “Stop,” Atticus said sharply, and she could have kicked herself when she did.

  “I’m leaving,” she stated firmly.

  “Sit down, Ms. Rodgers.” His tone brooked no resistance.

  She gritted her teeth. Damn it. Why couldn’t she defy him? Why couldn’t she tell him to fuck off? “Finch—”

  “If you want to keep your job, you’d better sit down. Now.” His voice was unyielding, the last word was delivered like a blow to her head, and she cringed at the sound.

  She sat down.

  “Are you aware that there was a second set of accounting books?” Atticus dropped the bomb just as her butt touched the couch.

  “Excuse me?” Of course she’d known. She’d never seen them, but the numbers hadn’t added up for months. How the hell did the man think ConFed was successful in their takeover bid? Or maybe he just thought they were so damn brilliant they couldn’t fail.

  Atticus turned the laptop so that she could see the screen. “There was another set of books for Sunsoon. A set kept by your boss.”

  Terrance Hoffar was a first-class prick, and Tori had been well aware that he’d been Victor Tourine’s yes-man. Had Finch discovered the evidence that Tori hadn’t been able to find? “Let me see that.”

  Her heart sank when she noted the first page. Terrance must have used her program, her formulas, to keep the hidden set of books while feeding her bullshit for the public books. She rubbed her temples, resisting the urge to curl up on the couch and rock back and forth. Even though she’d known they were there, she hadn’t noted the amount of damage her boss had done. She also hadn’t realized he’d made an effort to implicate her.

  “I take it you’ve never seen this before.” Atticus sounded skeptical.

  Tori glared at him. “This is my program and my formulas, but there are several items I’m not familiar with.” She pointed to one line. “I don’t know what this is.”

  Something that was labeled Coretech Research and seemed to have expenditures and income, all hidden from her. That bastard Terrance. She was going to kick his ass.

  “You’ve never seen anything with this heading? No bills came in? No invoices?” Atticus’s voice was sharp.

  Tori had had enough. “I’ve answered enough questions. If you think I did something wrong, I’ll get a fucking lawyer. Why don’t you let me ask you a few questions, Finch? What the hell happened last night, and why was I naked when I woke up?”

  The man knew how to intimidate a person. He rose and towered over her, his dark eyes focused on her, his face seemingly etched in stone. “Last night, you drank too much. Let’s just say I thought my hotel room was better than yours since you would have been seen by your coworkers.”

  “Right,” she said sarcastically. “You’re all heart. And the removal of my clothes?”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”

  Damn him. He got to the heart of the matter. Fine. “Did we fuck, Finch?” She had a shadowy memory of kissing him, of going to her knees.

  Surprisingly, he stepped away from her. “Contrary to popular belief, Victoria, most men don’t find an inebriated woman attractive.” His voice was flat and his gaze unreadable.

  She searched his face. Before she could censor herself, she snapped at him, “I was at a disadvantage last night, and you like to control other people. Especially me.”

  His gaze swept over her, and she fought the desire to pull the hem of her dress down to cover herself better. “Why would I want to gain control over someone who cannot control themselves? There’s no real challenge in that.”

  Ouch. Well, he was right, wasn’t he? Not only had she gotten drunk last night, but she’d hauled off and decked him in a fit of temper. What happened after that was vague and dreamlike. At least she hoped she hadn’t actually begged him to fuck her.

  She squinted at him. “You’re not answering my question, Finch.”

  “No, Victoria. I did not fuck you. Nor did I accept your tempting offer to dominate you,” he said as he sat down and calmly tapped on his laptop. “I’m not looking for a submissive of your type.”

  Don’t ask him. Don’t ask him. “What type is that?” Damn it, she shouldn’t have asked.

  His direct and clear gaze met hers. “A brat. A submissive who wants to surrender but denies it.” He shrugged. “Some Dominants like that kind of a challenge. I prefer the type of submissive who knows herself.”

  Why did the words he said in the tone he delivered them feel like blows to her solar plexus? She knew herself. With any other man, she was certain, confident. It was only with Finch that she felt off-kilter and out of control.

  “Fine,” she said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice by using anger. “We agree, then.” She rose and turned toward the door. His assessment did hurt. Not that he didn’t want her. That wasn’t a new sensation. Men rejected her on a regular basis. It was the hit at her submission, calling her a brat, inferring that she was a clueless nitwit. She hated being considered stupid.

  “Victoria, sit down,” Atticus said in a firm tone.

  Fuck you, you sadistic bastard. She kept walking. He knew what she was, played on it. If he thought she was a brat, fine, she’d be a brat. “Fire me. I don’t care,” she said and was horrified to find that her throat was tight and she was close to tears.

  “He cooked the books and made it look like you did it.” Atticus’s voice was cold and expressionless.

  Slowly, she turned to face him. “So?” It took effort, but she kept the boiling anger and frustration the situation brought up out of her voice. How could she fight this? Her former boss had joined other Sunsoon officers in abandoning ship just as ConFed took over, leaving Tori with the unenviable task of negotiating for the company. With Reena Barrett as the only senior Sunsoon officer left as ConFed swept in, the job of protecting what was left of the company fell to Tori, Nell, and Reena. It also left them scrambling to fix the messes created by the men who didn’t care what happened to the people left behind. Despair washed through her, replacing the helpless rage. She was trapped, and he knew it.

  Atticus rose and pointed to the couch. She gritted her teeth. She did not want to obey him. And yet, she did. God, did she ever. Despite the fact that he’d picked at her confidence, stomped on her self-worth, and now revealed that she was in deep shit.

  Tori longed to be owned, to be wanted in that mysterious way that Dominants loved their subs. She’d never given any man her true self because, in her mind, they hadn’t earned it.

  Here was a man who was as close to her fantasy as a man could get, and he didn’t want her. Typical. But she had to move, either to the door and walk out on her job, or to the couch, to accept Atticus’s admonitions.

  It had all happened on her watch. Yet, she still didn’t buy it. Terrence was a prick but a careful one. Fucking with accounting books wasn’t his M.O. Still, she didn’t do it. And if Terrance didn’t steal the money, who did?

  Not to mention she really couldn’t quit her job right now.

  She sighed and sat down on the couch. “Terrence didn’t cook those books. I didn’t do it, but neither did he. He was an asshole, don’t get me wrong, but he wasn’t a smart guy.” She pointed to the computer screen. “He was old-school accounting. He did budgets and bills. I did the projections and the actual money handling. He hired someone for this, just like he hired me.”

  “You’re going to help me track that someone down,” Atticus said. “Right now, you and I are going to go through every scrap of data and verify what’s been altered.”

  Tori curled her hands into fists. “I don’t work weekends.” That was a lie, but Atticus wouldn’t know that.

  “You will this weekend,” Atticu
s said as he rose. “In return for your services this weekend, I won’t write you up for striking me in public.”

  She dropped her head in her hands and groaned. “Look, Finch, I didn’t mean to deck you, but—”

  “It doesn’t matter. You did it.” His tone brooked no discussion. “Your choice is to work with me or find another job.” He retrieved a box from the corner of the room and set it down the couch. “Most employers wouldn’t give you that much.”

  No, they wouldn’t. And the chances of finding another job while this cloud of creative accounting hung over her head were slim to none. Stiffly, she reached over and opened the box. “How far back do you want to go?”

  * * * *

  The next few hours were filled with spreadsheets and invoices. Atticus hadn’t expected to actually hurt her feelings. He studied Victoria surreptitiously. Once she’d decided to stay, she dove in, working on all cylinders. But he hadn’t missed the wince when he’d called her a brat. And he’d noted how her voice sounded tight when he berated her for lack of control.

  His own feelings had gotten in the way. For months, she’d tormented him and didn’t know it. Last night, she’d left him raw and angry. Not because he’d been denied sexual satisfaction, but because the only time she admitted she wanted him as a man and a Dominant was when she was drunk.

  When he’d lashed out at her, he hadn’t thought for a moment she’d be hurt by what he said. After all, he was Finch the Bastard. Now, he wasn’t sure if his opinion mattered to her or not. Their banter had always had an edge, but it was banter. Now there was only cold numbers and spreadsheets.

  They sat on the same couch, studying the same files, but she might as well be on another planet for how close they were.

  “What do you do on your days off, Victoria?” He asked the question, wanting some kind of response from her.

  Her eyes narrowed as she studied him for a moment. “Why?”

  “You’re very good with numbers, but you aren’t passionate about them,” he said as he shuffled some of the files. “I’m curious to know what you are passionate about.”