Taken

by Jennifer Dawson

  I shake my head.

  “So it’s personal?”

  I square my shoulders. “Isn’t it?”

  He leans back in his chair and studies me for a long time before he speaks. “Honestly, I’m not quite sure what to make of you, Veronica.”

  My heart starts a frantic gallop. “What are your choices?”

  He takes a drink of his wine before tilting his head. “I think your talents are wasted on the position I have available.”

  “Maybe. I don’t really know.” I’m not going to pretend I’m not overqualified. I have impressive skills, and despite throwing away the chance of a lifetime, I would have no problem finding a job. “But your position gives me something others don’t.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Exposure to life outside our little bubble.”

  “What if you find you need the bubble? That the world isn’t what you anticipated?”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.” I answer with my most direct stare. Unwavering.

  His expression flickers. “I can see it burning in your eyes. I recognize it.”

  “So you know I’m not bluffing. That this isn’t some socialite game I’m playing.”

  “I do.”

  I lean forward, putting my elbows on the table. “What do you have to lose by giving me a chance? Can you honestly tell me I’m not better than anyone else you’ve seen?”

  He shakes his head. “No I can’t, but that’s not the problem.”

  “Then what is the problem?” I ask the question, but I think I already know. It’s the unnamed chemistry lacing all our interactions. My only curiosity is if he’ll admit it.

  He continues to study me with that intense gaze of his until I shift in my chair and drink more wine to distract myself. He sighs. “I have strict rules for my organization. There’s not many, but they are absolute. I have those rules in place because they serve a purpose. You will violate my rule.”

  My throat goes dry and I lick my lips. “What is your rule? I’m sure I will abide by it.”

  I’m not sure at all, but I want to be.

  He smirks. “No fucking your subordinates. Ever.”

  I blink, unprepared for such directness. “Oh.”

  His gaze darkens. “And I’m afraid, I very much want to fuck you, Veronica.”

  I can’t help it, my cheeks flush and I find myself unable to speak.

  He laces his fingers over his flat stomach. “That wouldn’t be a problem in itself, except for one important fact.”

  “What’s that?” The words kind of stumble out of me. I’m used to Winston, he’s the only man I’ve ever been with, and he’d always been proper with me. He saved his depravity for the girls he took to bed on the side.

  “I believe the feeling is mutual.”

  I pull myself together and say coolly, “Is that not a bit presumptuous?”

  “No, I don’t believe it is.” His expression is intent, purposeful. There’s not even a hint of shyness, or chagrin at so blatantly discussing the attraction between us. He tilts his head in the direction of the bathrooms. “I think if I walked you down that hall, and laid my mouth on you, there’s very little you wouldn’t do for me. I’d push up your dress, slide my fingers into your panties, and nothing could stop me from making you come. And you would come, Veronica. I would make sure of it.”

  Hot all over, I swallow hard. I have no idea how to respond to this so I make an attempt to keep it on business. “Are you saying I’m incapable of being professional?”

  He laughs. “No, I’m saying I am.”

  “Oh.”

  “Indeed.”

  I swipe a lock of my hair behind my ear, suddenly deflated. “Does that mean you’re not going to hire me?”

  The waiter chooses that minute to deliver the appetizer. He sets it down and without even looking at him, Brandon says, “Please give us a minute.”

  He nods and takes his leave.

  “I’ve been thinking about this, and here’s the thing, I want to help you.” Brandon pours us both more wine before placing the bottle back on the table. “You and I, I think, somehow, we are the same.”

  My chest swells with hope because I can’t deny it. I want it all. I want him and the position. “How so?”

  “You mean you don’t know?” His voice is light, almost amused.

  “I do.” I smooth my hand over the tablecloth. “It’s hard to articulate.”

  “It is.” His gaze meets mine. “I can give you what you desire. I’ve already started.”

  I’m not quite sure I understand what he means and my brow furrows.

  He smiles. “Did you not like my friends?”

  “I did, very much so.”

  “Did they not ask you to go to brunch?”

  I nod.

  His smile widens and his dimples do flash now. “Did you and Jillian not have an interesting talk in the bathroom?”

  My mind turns to Jillian and me talking. Her giddy excitement over me. How she kept telling me how interesting all this was. “Yes.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you discussed?”

  I shake my head. Not in a million years. Not that we’d talked about anything too telling. But I like that he wants to know.

  “I figured as much.” He chuckles. “Let me ask you, you have a sharp mind, what do you think I should do?”

  “I think you should give me a chance to prove myself.” I answer without hesitation. It’s also the truth. I want what he can give me. Want to do something besides work in a corporate office. But I can help him too. I’m good, very good. I can make his business life easier if he gives me the opportunity.

  “I think so too.” He picks up a fork. “Here’s the thing, Veronica. I understand, that thing you’re searching for. But I don’t really think the position I have is it. I think you’re meant for something you haven’t quite found yet.”

  “I don’t know, but experience is the only way I know of to figure it out.”

  “I agree. So here’s what I propose, if you’re interested. I will hire you as a contractor, for a minimum of six months.”

  My whole body releases its tension. In six months I can make myself indispensable. Make it so he can’t live without me. “Thank you.”

  “You start on Monday. Nine o’clock sharp.”

  “I promise I won’t let you down, Brandon. You won’t be sorry.”

  He tilts his head. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  * * *

  Brandon

  * * *

  I let her bask in her excitement for a bit, and I can’t deny she’s a pleasure to watch. She can’t quite hide the thrill of victory in her eyes, and I let her have it. Because in this battle, she’s won. She wore me down, and I’ve conceded.

  But what she doesn’t understand is that this is only the first battle, and I let her win because it suits me. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Simply put, I want her and I’m not ready to be done with her yet. I also firmly believe in what I’ve said, she’s meant for something else, but I do think allowing her to walk this path will help her find it. And I do want her to find what she’s searching for.

  It’s a compromise. I’m not hiring her outright. It buys us time. I have unwavering self-control; I’m sure I can resist her for six months.

  I take a bite of the bone marrow and it melts in my mouth before I ask, “What do you think your parents will say about this?”

  She shrugs, her face still shining with pleasure. “I don’t care. Since they aren’t talking to me, I won’t even tell them.” Her brows knit. “Did your parents not talk to you when you abandoned them?”

  I nod. “We didn’t speak for eighteen months.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “It is.” I’m not sure why I entertain her question, or why I want to provide her with additional information, but I find myself adding, “In fairness, I spent a year in Europe with no cell phone.”

  Her expression widens in surprise. “So that
’s where you went when you disappeared?”

  “Yes, that’s where I went.” I laugh. “It’s all rather cliché, isn’t it? Rich boy jets off to Europe to find himself.”

  She tilts her head. “I suppose that depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On if he found himself.”

  My mind flashes back to that time in my life where I roamed aimlessly, checking in only periodically at some Internet café. “I did.”

  She scoops up a forkful of our appetizer and her fork disappears between her lips before slowly sliding it back out. She moans, her eyes close, and I imagine this is what she looks like on the verge of orgasm. Only messier. Much, much messier. I shift in my chair.

  Her lashes flutter open. “That’s divine.”

  It is. “Have you never been here before?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I haven’t had the pleasure.”

  I wonder what else she hasn’t had the pleasure of. I’m guessing quite a bit. I pick up my wine. “I’m glad.”

  Her gaze flickers. “What did you do, out there in Europe?”

  I think about not answering her, of evading, but decide against it. “I did it the old-fashioned way. I took twenty thousand dollars out of my trust fund before I left and gave myself that to live. I backpacked, lived in hostels, took trains. I completely disconnected. I saw all the sites, sat in silence on the top of mountains, communed with nature.”

  She blinks, and I know she’s surprised. “I’m having a hard time picturing you that way.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Why’d you do it?”

  “For a couple of reasons.”

  “Do you wish to share them?” She smiles, softly, and it curves over her mouth I want to taste.

  I realize I can’t remember the last time I had a real conversation with a woman. Can’t remember the last time I engaged in learning another person or having them learn me. I find I want to tell her things, if only for her to understand that I can relate to her as few people can. “Well, at the most basic level, I wanted to dry out.”

  “Oh?” I love the way her brow knits when she’s concentrating. It’s so intent. She glances at my wine. “From what?”

  “Coke and sex.”

  She straightens. “I see. Did it work?”

  I laugh. “I haven’t touched drugs since the morning I left. I made it almost the year without sex.”

  The barest hint of a flush highlights her cheekbones. “Who changed your mind?”

  “A very pretty Parisian girl I met in Prague.”

  She laughs, shaking her head. “It’s always those French girls, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed.”

  She dabs her lips with a napkin. “What was it about her that changed your mind?”

  I consider the question. It was so long ago, I hadn’t thought of Mona in quite some time. I answer Veronica honestly, if only to see what she will do with the information. “She was the first woman I ran across that I wanted to fuck for passion and not sport.”

  Other than a flash of emotion I can’t decipher, her expression gives nothing away. “Did you fancy yourself in love with her?”

  I shake my head. “No, I fancied myself in deep lust with her. I’ve never been in love.”

  I don’t think I’m capable, but that’s a different story.

  Veronica’s gaze meets mine and the tension ebbing and flowing between us tightens back up again. “I’ve never been in love either.”

  The air thickens, hot and tangible, reaching across the table.

  She glances away and her next words send a shiver of shock through me. “Do you ever wonder if, for people like us, it’s not possible?”

  I don’t ask her what she means, because I know what she means. There’s something detached about the world we grew up in. Something that doesn’t lend itself to deep connection. “Yes, I have wondered.”

  “And what do you think?”

  I shrug. “I honestly don’t know.”

  She fiddles with her fork. “I can’t remember the last time my parents told me they loved me. I was probably a child.”

  “And Winston?”

  She shakes her head. “We only said it once or twice, back in the day, and we didn’t mean it.”

  “Is he the only man you’ve ever been with?” This is an inappropriate question to ask the woman I’ve just offered employment, temporary as it might be.

  When she speaks the word is soft. “Yes.”

  “Not even when you were away at Harvard?”

  “No, I was too busy proving myself to be distracted by men.” She frowns before looking at me. “Do you think that’s strange?”

  “No.” I let a smile play over my lips. “All it means is you haven’t met your Parisian yet.”

  Her spine straightens and I can almost see her gathering her courage. “Do you think you’re him?”

  The directness surprises me, I raise a brow. “Do you think I’m him?”

  Her eyes flicker. “I don’t know how to answer that, considering you have rules and just offered me a job.”

  “I think you should answer it truthfully and see where it takes you.”

  Her chin tilts. “Yes, I think you might be.”

  “I think you’re correct. It’s what to do about it that remains the question.” I take a sip of my wine. “For now, we will put you to work, and leave the question off the table.”

  Her shoulders square and she leans back, placing distance between us. “Yes, that’s probably prudent.”

  I do my best not to smile at her disappointment.

  7

  Brandon

  I can’t believe I’m considering what I’m considering. It’s entirely out of character for me, but I can’t get it out of my mind. Friday, with the chaos of work, I’d managed to put it out of my mind, but today it’s lingered. Nagging at me. Impossible to ignore.

  Tonight my friends and I are going to a new, upscale pool hall that opened a couple of weeks ago. I’d called the owner and we’d agreed on a trade, ensuring VIP seating for the night. Originally, I’d intended to bring Stephanie, but now that we’ve severed our relationship, that’s not possible. I’d toyed with the idea of bringing one of my other playmates because that’s what I should do.

  Only, I don’t want to, because I want Veronica.

  I want to see her. On Thursday I’d thought it would be easy to stay away from her, knowing I’d be working with her come Monday, but I see now that nothing with her is going to be easy.

  Truth be told, she’s distracting me.

  It’s an uncomfortable feeling. Women do not distract me. I distract them. But I can’t get her out of my head. I could call and invite her, but I’m not willing to do that. The option I’m considering is telling, and unlike me, but I can’t dissuade myself from the notion.

  I’ve ignored it all morning, but find I can’t ignore it any longer.

  With a sigh, I pick up the phone and call Leo.

  He answers on the second ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

  I close my eyes and shake my head. I cannot believe I’m lowering myself this way. I sigh. “Not one word.”

  He laughs. “This should be good.”

  I grit my teeth. “I need a favor.”

  “Sure.” His tone is casual, unconcerned.

  I want to be like that. I am like that. Only, I’m not right now. But I can play it as cool as possible. Not that it will fool Leo. Fucking cops. “I want Jillian to call Veronica and invite her to come with us tonight.”

  Silence. Complete and utter silence.

  I clear my throat.

  Finally, he says, “Oh, really?”

  Luckily, I’ve thought about this way too much and have an excuse prepared. “Yes, I’ve hired her on a temporary basis, but she has no idea about the sex part of my business. With the club’s latex party next Thursday, she’ll be unable to avoid it and I want her to get somewhat familiar with some of the dynamics before then.”

  “I see,” Leo says, hi
s tone amused. “So why not ask her yourself?”

  That is a very good question. One I have a lame response for. “As her boss, if I ask, she’ll feel obligated. Jillian asking her gives her an excuse if she has other plans.”

  More silence falls over the line before he laughs. “You don’t think I’m actually buying this, do you?”

  In my coolest, most dismissive voice I say, “There’s nothing to buy.”

  “Come on, this is me you’re talking to, you don’t think I know how hot you are for her?”

  “I am not hot for her. I’m her boss. She’s my employee. I want to expose her responsibly.”

  “You know we can’t be overt with her there.” He’s right, outright exposing your kinks to non-consenting parties is frowned upon.

  “I’m not suggesting you be overt. Just hint at it enough to make her wonder.”

  “Because you want to see if she responds.”

  “Because she’s going to be exposed to it quite aggressively on Thursday,” I shoot back. Yes, I have my underground sex club where depravity rages Thursday through Saturday night, but The Lair is a mainstream club that hosts private parties once a month for those willing to pay my prices. It’s a safe place for the more upscale BDSM community to publicly express their preferences.

  The story I’m telling Leo is one hundred percent true. Veronica will be exposed, and I want her to see what it looks like between actual couples before she witnesses some of the more extreme practices that can be quite frightening to a newcomer.

  “Bullshit. You’re testing her.”

  He’s right. I am.

  I evade. “Are you going to have Jillian ask her or not?”

  “I’ll have Jillian ask her, not because I owe you either, but because I can’t wait to see you sweat.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” The more defensive I feel, the more my upbringing comes out, and my inflection could rival royalty at the moment.

  Not that it fools Leo. He’s intuitive and knows me way too fucking well. Leo and I might have met through Michael, who I met in college, but we’ve long ago developed a friendship outside of Michael. Mainly because we share certain perversities Michael has never been much into.