by Brandy Ayers
“Mr. Rasoio, you’ll have to remind me what this meeting is concerning. I don’t seem to have any notes on my calendar concerning any business we might have together.” Not even a spark of recognition remained in her eyes.
For some reason, that both irked Damian and made pride swell inside his chest. She wouldn’t be giving into him anytime soon. No problem, he liked the chase.
“That would be because I traded in quite a few favors to gain an audience with you today. You aren’t an easy woman to see.” Without being invited, Damian strolled around the office to the more informal sitting area across from Lydia’s desk. He needed to even the playing field a little. Unbuttoning his tailored suit coat, Damian sat on the silver leather couch, crossed one ankle over his knee, and reclined back with his arms stretched wide over the back of the couch. Lydia needed to know she didn’t intimidate him the way she did most people. Intrigued, yes. Aroused, most definitely. Intimidated, no. “But, so you can catch up to me, I’ll tell you the reason for my visit is twofold.”
Lydia stood from behind her desk, flipping the binder closed and strutting to the club chair across from Damian. Her body swayed with the natural rhythm of a woman in control of her sexual desires. She knew that her looks played into how people perceived her. Knew some would underestimate her because of them, and she used that to her advantage, that much was obvious. “Please, continue. I love to hear people’s ideas before I shoot them down.”
Damian chuckled. This woman had bigger balls than most the men he’d run across in this industry. “Well, first, I want a repeat of last night. Alone. I think that is quite obvious. And I want us to partner our companies. I think we can have a mutually beneficial relationship.” His eyes scanned down her legs, covered in a tight knee-length pencil skirt. “In many areas, in fact.”
A patronizing smirk crossed Lydia’s face. “Well, it is nice to know I’m dealing with a man suffering from delusions of grandeur before we start negotiations. Let’s start with business first, then we can discuss the rest of it. I’m afraid I have no idea what business you are in.”
“Software design. Specifically, interactive game and app design. My technology is behind the most popular games released in the past five years.” Damian leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees and giving Lydia his best game face. “In fact, I was set to retire in just a few months, on my thirty-fifth birthday. Pass my company on to other people and enjoy life for a while before figuring out my next move. But then I saw the write-up on you in Cosmo and knew we could make magic together. That you were my next move.”
“That article came out months ago, and you are just now getting around to meeting with me?” One perfectly manicured eyebrow rose in amusement.
“Like I said, you’re a hard woman to get a meeting with.”
“Well, I’m sorry to inform you that you have wasted your time. I have no interest in games that teenage boys spend hours a day staring at. This company is about personalizing the beauty experience for every woman. I don’t see how you could factor into that vision at all.” Lydia stood, turning her back on Damian and essentially dismissing him.
“Then you aren’t as forward thinking as I thought you might be.”
The insult made Lydia pause for a brief moment before continuing on to her desk, where she took her seat once again. She truly was a vision, sitting before a wide wall of windows, New York City laid out at her feet below.
Damian came to his feet as well, tucking his hands in his pants, effectively putting his raging hard-on on display for Lydia to see. He wanted her to know that everything about her turned him on. Even her negotiating technique.
“Right now your app matches a woman’s complexion to the makeup that is best for her using the camera on her phone and some admittedly sophisticated programing, correct?” She nodded in confirmation. “But the options are limited. You are beating your competition because you offer more choices for a wider array of skin colors, but they are still stock colors. Nothing terribly special about them, no exclusivity.”
Lydia visibly prickled at his evaluation of her product. He knew she would react like this. In her mind, 4U Cosmetics wasn’t just a way to make money. It was her life, her baby. She’d sacrificed a personal life to make sure her company succeeded. A stranger—granted, one who had brought her to orgasm the night before—coming in and telling her what her product lacked put her on the defensive. Right where he wanted her.
“However, with my technology you can give each woman the ability to mix her own colors. It would be near impossible for two women to have the exact same shades of makeup. We could even offer different price points so you will still cater to the everyday woman you champion, but appeal to the more elite women and men of the world.”
Approaching her desk, Damian took the phone he had prepared just for her from his back pocket. On it was a demo version of the app he proposed they collaborate on. And his phone number. He opened the app to the capture screen and handed it over.
She didn’t take it at first, instead staring at him as if she could decipher what his true agenda was by simply glaring. Little did she know, he was telling her the truth. He wanted to help her company soar to the number one beauty outfit in the world. And he wanted to have her in his bed every night for the rest of eternity.
Finally, Lydia glanced at the screen, gasped, and grabbed it from his hand. “You hacked our app?”
Yes, yes he had.
“Indeed. Wasn’t hard either. As you can see, I’ve made some improvements.” Walking to the printer beside her desk, Damian removed a blank sheet from the feeding tray. “Right now your app uses a simple piece of white paper and a selfie to perfectly set the white balance in the photos and match women to the right shades of makeup. The new app will work largely in the same way, only now instead of toggling between premade colors already in your inventory, your customers will be able to adjust shades to best suit them. Please, take a photo like you normally would.”
Rolling her eyes, Lydia complied, capturing her selfie along with the piece of paper lined up next to her face. She tapped the Evaluate button, which shaded the picture so that the white piece of paper appeared true white in the frame, thereby also perfectly shading Lydia’s skin tone. Within thirty seconds, five pallets of colors appeared in the next window. These were the base colors. He tapped on one of the pallets, then on her picture, and the colors filled in her eyelids, cheeks, lips, and skin automatically. He showed her how with one touch on the slider bars she could adjust the colors most suited for her until they were exactly what she wanted, then showed her how they would be sent to the manufacturing department and produced in the same plants she currently used. There would be no markup in production costs using his software.
After the quick tour of the app, Lydia placed the phone on the desk and regarded him with a much more interested expression on her face. “I admit, this is good. So I have to know, why approach me the way you did last night? You could have come in here today and presented this idea and I most likely would have gone ahead with more meetings and research. But with last night factored in, I have to ask, did you participate last night to have something to hold over me? Do you think your knowledge of my sexual predilections will corner me into working with you?”
Chapter Five
Lydia
“Is this what it will take to keep your mouth shut? Partnering with your company?” The idea pissed her off to no end. She couldn’t have her interest in the kinkier side of sex getting out. A man frequenting a sex club would be scandalous in her industry, no doubt. But it would be nothing compared to a woman, let alone the most feared and loathed woman in the beauty and business world. They would call her a whore. A slut. Her credibility would be shot. Was it hypocritical? Absolutely. Didn’t make it any less fucking true. But as much as she hated the idea of her secrets being exposed, she hated being cornered into a deal even more.
“No, if we partner our companies, I want it to be because it is a wise business move. Last
night has nothing to do with our companies.” Damian seemed almost insulted at her suggestion that he would bribe her into a business deal.
“Then what is it going to take to keep last night where it belongs, in the lower levels of Club Zion? Money?” Money she could accept giving to him. She had plenty of it. Growing up poor had made an impact on Lydia, had pushed her to work until she collapsed from exhaustion. Then work a little more. Now that she had reached levels of success she never could have imagined as a child, she lived well below her means. Never again would she rely on the kindness of strangers to eat or sleep in a safe place.
“I have enough money of my own. No, I want two weeks. That is what it will take.” Damian strutted around her desk, leaning his cocky ass back onto the sleek top, not so subtly positioning the bulging crotch of his trousers right in front of her face. “For two weeks I want you to be completely at my disposal. There will be no trips to Zion. No studs from your stable. You will do everything and anything I ask. In and out of bed.”
“Despite what you might have seen last night, I am not a sub. Nor do I have any desire to be your sub in particular.”
One of his dark eyebrows quirked up in an incredulous expression. “You don’t think allowing yourself to be tied up and molested by a room full of people doing whatever they want to your body is indicative of a submissive streak?”
Lydia could only laugh. This man, he obviously liked to pretend to know what he talked about, but in reality had no idea. Tilting her head toward her shoulder, she gave him a pitying look. “My interests are varied, as are the men and women I use to accommodate those interests. Perhaps to your simple mind, last night seemed to be an exercise in submission. Yet nothing happened in that room that I didn’t first lay down the parameters for. Those people didn’t do anything they wanted to my body. They did anything I wanted to my body. Including you. I could have just as easily said red, and everything would have stopped. I could have said only women with shaved heads and purple nipples could touch me. Had you come on another night, you might have seen me sitting on a man’s face and yelling at him to fuck me with his tongue until I told him to stop. Another night I could have been in a pile of naked people both giving and receiving pleasure. It all interests me. Though I must admit, orgasm withholding is one of my favorites.” Lydia pushed her chair back, standing to her full height atop her five-inch heels, and yes, towering over Damian just slightly in his reclined position. She leaned in, planting her hands on either side of his hips on the desk. The position allowed him to see down her blouse to the delicate lace bra she’d put on that morning. Had he been smart, the asshole would have realized he should fear her. The venom in her voice was unmistakable, despite keeping it at a barely audible whisper. Instead, he took the bait and stared down at her swaying tits. “What doesn’t interest me is being with one man who has the delusion he is some jacked-up alpha male who thinks he can control me in any way, in or out of the bedroom.”
Lydia snapped her hand out, gripping Damian’s jaw and tilting his face up until he looked into her eyes. “Now, stop wasting my time, ogling me like some teenage boy with his first Penthouse, and tell me how much I have to give you to forget what you saw last night.”
“Two weeks. That is all you have to give me. Try to intimidate me all you like. My conditions won’t change.” Damian stood from the desk, Lydia’s hand falling away as he moved into her body, pressing his hard-on to her stomach. “And contrary to what you might think, I am not a dominant. Similar to you, I have varied interests, but since the moment I saw your photo and read your words, the only interests I have seem to center around you. So I want two weeks to convince you we need only each other. If at the end of those two weeks you still want any of the vapid pretty-boy models you use on the side, or need the group atmosphere of Zion, then I will step away and this will remain a professional relationship.”
Blood whooshed in and out of Lydia’s veins, all seeming to head in one direction, away from her head and toward the wet heat growing between her thighs. The lack of oxygen to her brain was the only explanation she had for actually considering this absurd proposal. No man could ever meet every single one of her needs. It wasn’t possible. She had tried dating, but men never seemed to be able to keep up with her, both in and out of the bedroom. She grew tired of the boring dates and even more boring sex and stopped trying a few years ago. So yeah, she relied on casual sex with men who took direction well and looked good in hotel beds, and the rush of fringe sex at Zion.
But if this guy wanted to try and win her over, what could it really hurt? “Two weeks, and you never tell anyone about my activities at Club Zion?”
Damian nodded slowly, bringing his face closer to hers. “I won’t tell.”
“Fine.” Her one word held all the warnings she refused to voice. To not get his hopes up. To not get too invested. To not fall in love. Love made you weak, clouded your judgement. It was not something Lydia wished to entertain in her life.
“Very good.” Damian nipped her bottom lip. Not a kiss, simply the sharp sting of teeth sinking into her plump flesh. Lydia held back her desperate moan, not willing to give him even that much knowledge about how he affected her physically. He stepped back, nodding to the phone resting on her desk. The one holding the improved app that she couldn’t deny would revolutionize her company. “You can keep that. I preprogrammed some calendar appointments for you. Follow the directions exactly. My phone number is also in there. The password is ‘Angel.’”
Damian turned, walking back to the door he had come through not even an hour ago. With his hand resting on the sleek metal handle, he turned his head over his shoulder. “By the way, it would be impossible for your people to reverse engineer what I did there, so I wouldn’t even bother trying.”
With that, he left in a cloud of testosterone.
For the rest of the day, Lydia did her best to ignore the phone and the encounter with Damian. But they remained in the back of her mind the entire time. She would never admit it to him, but his words flattered her, and just about everything else concerning the overly bossy man aroused her. Some of the men she kept on the side had made more romantic overtures, but when that happened, she brushed them off and found a replacement in her stable of men. However, none of those men would ever have spoken to her as Damian did. As if they didn’t fear her in the least.
At five o’clock, an alert sounded on the phone left behind by her visitor. Ignoring it had certainly crossed her mind; she didn’t really owe the man anything. But curiosity got the better of her, and she checked the alert. It was an appointment on the calendar for seven o’clock. She didn’t recognize the address and plugged it into Google Maps on her computer. It seemed to be a home in a residential neighborhood forty-five minutes away. In the notes on the appointment, it said to come dressed casually. She also noticed alerts were set to go off every half hour until the appointment. Undoubtedly, Damian would text or call as well if she didn’t show up.
Lydia placed the phone on her desk and leaned back in her chair. Looking out over the city, she debated what to do next. She could ignore Damian’s personal overtures and try to work with him professionally, but she would run the risk that he would spread her extracurricular activities around town. She could play along with his little whims for the next two weeks, maybe have sex with him a few times, and ensure he stay silent. Or she could walk into whatever he had prepared for her with an open mind.
For some inexplicable reason, Damian had Lydia intrigued, and she very much wanted to see where it would go. If there was any man who might be able to keep up with a life with her, she had a feeling he might be it. Not that she would let him know that.
Decision made, Lydia stood from her desk, packed up a few items to work on that night, and headed for home. Quite a few heads turned to watch her leave, shocked by the early hour she left the office. Lydia was known for being the first to arrive and the last to leave, sometimes sleeping on the couch in her office.
“Joslyn, I’m
heading out for the day. Please forward my calls to my cell phone.” The receptionist’s shocked face was almost comical, and Lydia had to fight a laugh as she stepped onto the elevator and made her way to the lobby of the building housing the 4U offices.
After changing at the apartment she rarely spent any time in, Lydia punched the address into her GPS and drove across town to a neatly kept middle-class neighborhood. The area reminded her of where she had grown up, only not as run down. Cookie-cutter houses that most likely all looked the same on the inside sat in neat rows on exactly quarter-acre lots. Some landscaping was more well attended than others, but for the most part she could tell these people took pride in where they lived.
The everydayness of the place had lulled her into a state of comfort, so when she pulled up to her destination, shock ricocheted through her system. The house was the same as the rest in the neighborhood, only the windows were all broken out and the interior obviously hollowed by a fire. In a daze, Lydia parked her car along the curb and made her way to the porch, where Damian stood in carpenter pants and a paint-covered T-shirt. She should have been ashamed of herself for the rush of pure arousal that flooded her body, despite the depressing location of their first . . . date . . . or whatever it was.
“Okay, not what I was expecting.” She climbed the two cement stairs to a small porch, and Damian pulled her into his side the moment she was within reach.
“You’ll be saying that a lot with me.” The heat in his eyes told her he very much wanted to kiss her but held himself back. Which she appreciated. This whole experience was unsettling, from the location to the way her body reacted to a man who was essentially blackmailing her. “I wanted to show you from the start something that is important to me, to my very core. I am hoping it will encourage you to open up to me in return.”
“So, is this your house?”
“No, I have an apartment in the city, which I also hope to show you tonight.” Damian laced their fingers together and drew her into the house. Inside, the place was split in two: the side where the fire had done the most damage, and the side where flames hadn’t touched anything. “An old woman lived here until last week. She loved candles. And cats. One night she accidentally left a candle lit in the kitchen, and one of her eighteen cats knocked it off onto a rug. This is the end result of that accident.”