“The proposal from last night,” I say, doing my best to fend off the memories of sitting in that godforsaken fast food restaurant. I waited there for her like I was told, because I enjoyed the sting of her abandonment, the snappiness of her command. My mouth waters with the taste of freedom that comes with complete and utter submission. No decisions to make, no responsibilities. I can feel that temptation pulling at me, begging me to blurt it all out right here and now. Only I can't. Because the consequences of her saying no would be disastrous. “I see you're already on your way out, but if it's possible for you to change your plans, I'd like to take you to dinner.”
“Don't you mean 'come to dinner with me now or you're fired'? I thought that barking orders was more your style. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” Olivia picks up her dress and moves around me, heels clacking across the cement as she moves over to her car and unlocks the doors. I grit my teeth and turn around to watch as she yanks open the passenger door and tosses her purse onto the seat. It hits the leather with a bounce and falls over, spilling the contents onto the floor. Olivia curses and kneels down, doing her best to gather up the items as I step up behind her and glance over her shoulder.
Condoms.
Dozens of them litter the floor, silver wrappings gleaming in the dying light of evening.
I feel my lips pull up into a smile before I can stop myself.
“Oh? I see. You really do have somewhere important to be, don't you?” I ignore the small spark of jealously that flares in my chest. It's irrelevant. It doesn't matter who Olivia has or is sleeping with – not yet. After we enter into contract, of course, she'll remain exclusive to me for the next several months. I'll return the favor, of course, provided she doesn't command me to do otherwise.
I run my tongue across my lower lip as she growls low in her throat and shovels condoms back into the purse.
“Lex, I swear to God, if you don't walk away right now, then the lawsuit I'm filing against you won't just include sexual harassment, wrongful termination, and stalking charges.” Olivia rises to her feet, her ass brushing dangerously close to the bulge in my slacks. When she spins to face me, I think she's surprised to find out how close I'm standing and takes a sudden step back, her heel slipping off the curb and causing her to stumble backwards.
I reach out with the hand that's not holding the briefcase and wrap it around her waist, catching her before she gets the chance to fall. Her chest hits my stomach as I pull her forward and take a step back from the curb. With Olivia's head tilted back like that, lips parted in surprise, it almost looks like she's waiting for a kiss from me.
“What else?” I ask as she blinks at me and then shakes her head like she's trying to clear it. I extract my arm from her waist, regretful that I have to give up that firm press of her warmth against my body.
“What?” she asks me, reaching up a hand to adjust her hair as she turns away and slams the passenger door of her car.
“What else will your lawsuit include? You didn't finish your sentence.”
“Good night, Lex,” she tells me, cutting off our conversation before it's even really begun. “Like I said, I have somewhere to be.” Olivia moves around the front of the vehicle and reaches to open her door.
Only it won't open.
I watch in amusement as she tugs on it a few times and then drops her hands by her sides, tightening her lips into a thin line. I look down at the door, at the silver button on the handle and reach out to press my finger against it. If the keys she's just locked inside have a key fob attached, the doors should unlock at the touch of a button.
“Don't bother,” she whispers, voice rough and barely audible above the rush of traffic from behind her. “The batteries in the key fob are dead. I've just been unlocking the doors manually.”
“Spare?” I ask, wondering if this is simply an inconvenient accident for her or a fortuitous turn of events for me. Olivia reaches down like she's going for a pocket and then realizes she's wearing a form fitting dress with absolutely zero places to store anything.
“I gave them to my parents to keep in case something like this happened, so they could come and drop them off in the event I locked myself out of the house or the car. This is downtown San Francisco, Mr. Lyndon. I can't exactly leave a spare set under my welcome mat.”
I reach into my own pocket and extract my cell phone, holding it out to her. She stays standing next to the driver's side door, eyes focused somewhere to her left and absolutely not on me. I allow my eyes to trace the dark line of her dress as it dips low and flashes me a generous amount of cleavage.
“Here,” I say, trying my best not to laugh. In my world, things like this don't happen. The people around me are so careful to say and do the right things all the time. They never make mistakes, never trip or fall or stumble, and they most certainly don't lock themselves out of their own car. “Give them a call if you'd like.”
Olivia's emerald eyes dart over to mine, holding me in place with the strength of her gaze. I watch as she gathers her dress up and moves back around the front of the car to stand on the dirty sidewalk next to me. A moment later, the white lights strung through the trees flicker to life above us. The gentle glow highlights her cheeks and makes her hair shimmer as she looks up at me.
“Tonight's their date night. On date night, they turn off their cells and disappear to God only knows where, so I have no way of getting in touch with them until tomorrow.” Olivia pauses and looks down, like she's thinking hard about something. “I guess I could stay at a hotel,” she muses before letting out a groan and slapping her hand against her face. “If my wallet weren't stuck in my purse. With my luck, it'll probably get stolen tonight anyway.” She lifts her face up and looks over at the window. “Maybe I should just break the damn thing myself?”
“I'll make you a deal,” I say, trying to grab her attention before she really does decide to wander off in search of a brick. Olivia looks back up at me with pursed lips, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back while she waits for my proposal. I imagine this is the last chance I'm going to get. “Come to dinner with me, and I'll arrange for a locksmith to come and open this up for you as soon as we're done.”
“It's a Saturday night,” she says, sounding skeptical. “It's going to be hard to get someone out here. I mean, even if I can find somebody, it'll probably be hours before they show up.”
I swipe my thumb across the screen of my phone and hit speed dial for my secretary. The poor girl works more hours than I do, but I make sure to pay her handsomely for it. I haven't heard any complaints yet.
“Claudia,” I say before she can even tell me hello. “I need you to find a locksmith for me.” I give her the address and let her know the situation. “Would you mind texting me with the ETA when you have it?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Lyndon,” she says, sounding ridiculously peppy, especially for a person who's being forced to work on a Saturday night. I try not to let my lip curl. Claudia's been trying to sleep with me since the first day she started at the company. She wasn't my choice but my father's – yet another yes-woman in a sea of smiling faces and tiptoeing employees. I much prefer Olivia's narrow eyed glare, complete with angry scowl.
I hang up without saying goodbye.
“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you planned all of this,” Olivia growls, gesturing absently at the busy street and the people scooting past us in small groups, their voices already infused with alcoholic joy.
I raise my left eyebrow and slip my phone back in my pocket.
“I made you lock your keys in your car?” I ask incredulously. This woman is unlike anyone I've ever met – crass, outspoken, confrontational. I'm not sure what to expect next.
“Well, I don't know,” Olivia says, turning away and heading for my BMW. I pause for a moment and then start off after her, my chest constricting with emotion as I imagine laying out this proposal for her. Several different feelings war inside my chest: hope, frustration, perhaps even a
small slice of fear. Olivia Ashcraft will be the first person on this earth to hear my secret and most likely the last. If she says no … I'm not sure what my next step will be. “You're the one that marched into the lunch room and started yelling at me for no good reason.”
She pauses next to the passenger side door and waits for me to unlock the doors.
“If you wanted more information about the Eureka Inn Project, all you had to do was shoot me an email.” I click the button on my door handle and watch as she trips over the hem of her own dress as she climbs inside. My lip quirks with amusement as I open my door and slide in with all the grace and power that a Lyndon should rightfully possess.
“I'll remember that next time,” I say, forgetting why I was even angry in the first place. Sometimes, I let the stress of the business and the office get to me. Well, I suppose I always let the stress of it get to me. I can't help it; it's in my blood. I straighten the royal blue tie I'm wearing and glance surreptitiously over at Olivia. Instead of admiring the interior of my car, caressing the burl wood trim and praising my choice in automobiles, she's picking at a loose thread on her dress. My appraisal of Olivia Ashcraft rises another notch. “I made another reservation for us at Frances,” I tell her as I start the car and wait for the traffic to pause long enough that I can get out of my illegal parking space.
I wait patiently for Olivia to respond and when she doesn't, I decide to continue talking to fill the empty space. The atmosphere in the car is mildly uncomfortable, despite the heated passion that brewed between us last night. Maybe I was right? Maybe it really was the alcohol causing her to act that way? Perhaps she's not even interested in me at all?
I try not to sigh.
Oh well. My proposal doesn't exactly hinge on Olivia being desperate to jump my bones. There's a sizable monetary sum involved as well. Now, why am I so certain that's going to mean nothing at all to Miss Ashcraft.
“Olivia?”
“Call me Oli, please,” she says, looking up for the first time since we climbed in the car. Reluctantly, I glance away from her and use the rare break in traffic to glide back onto the street.
“Oli. Isn't that normally a boy's name?”
“Wow. Getting started with the sexist bullshit right off the bat? Thanks but no thanks, Lex. Let's just stick to business, okay?” I squeeze my hands on the steering wheel and try not to get angry. I can't complain about all the ingratiating idiots in my life if I can't handle a little criticism from the one person I've sought out to hand me the opposite.
I clear my throat and focus on driving for a moment.
“I'm sorry your plans for the evening got derailed,” I say, hoping to bridge the gap between us, find some of that spark from last night. If I can stir it up in her again, it'll make this a lot easier, a lot more likely to actually happen. But again, Olivia chooses to remain silent, snapping off a loose thread from her dress and then leaning back against the seat, eyes glued on the scene passing by outside the window. Before I get a chance to curb my tongue, I blurt my next words out. “You must've had quite the adventure arranged if you needed all those condoms.”
Olivia's head whips around, and I can feel her eyes burning holes in the side of my face. I much prefer this to the strained silence.
“You don't know when to stop, do you?” she asks me, shaking her head like she can't quite believe she's here, sitting in a car with the likes of me. Olivia acts like my power, money, and privilege are an inconvenience, something to look down on instead of gaze up at. I find that interesting. “Where I was going or why I had the condoms isn't really any of your business.”
“Are you sure about that?” I ask, enjoying the surge of anger searing the air between us. “Last night, I believe you wandered off in search of exactly that. Why you went into the living room to find one is beyond me.”
“I am so sick of people commenting on that. Who cares why I have condoms in my living room? What's the big freaking deal? As far as you know, I have so many one-night stands, that it's more convenient for me to keep a stash downstairs. Maybe I don't like inviting strangers up to my fucking bedroom?”
I feel both of my eyebrows raise up in surprise.
“That's quite the admission,” I say, feeling my tongue slide across my lower lip. I know Olivia's watching me right now. What she's thinking, however, is a complete mystery.
“I never said that was the truth, just a hypothetical possibility. I bet you keep condoms in your living room, too.” She sighs and leans against the door, still looking at me, but with her shoulders slightly less tense, her forehead slightly less wrinkled. “Why do you care anyway?”
“Because one of those condoms was supposed to be for me.” I let my voice drop into a low growl and try to gauge Olivia's reaction from the corner of my eye. She doesn't even blink.
“Yeah, well, you're an attractive enough man, and I'm a red-blooded woman.” Olivia shrugs. “I had a couple of bottles of wine, and things progressed a little further than I'd intended. It doesn't mean anything.”
“Oh, Olivia,” I say, touching a hand to my chest. “Now, we both know that isn't true. Can't you feel the sexual tension brewing between us? If you want, I could take care of the need you were trying to fulfill with all those condoms.”
“Thank you, Lex, but that won't be necessary. Let's keep this short, sweet, and simple. Come Monday morning, maybe we can put this whole fiasco behind us and start fresh.”
“No,” I say, wondering how well this particular bit of information is going to go over. “Come Monday morning, Olivia Ashcraft, you are still fired.”
I cannot even believe I'm sitting across the table from this jerk.
Lex Lyndon smiles at me and raises his wineglass, toasting God only knows what. Certainly not this forced meeting from hell. I have no idea what he intends to gain from taking me out to some stuffy candlelit dinner, but if it's loyalty for this side project he's working on, then his efforts have been sorely misplaced. What makes him think I'm going to take on a new job when he's trying so desperately to rip away the one I've already got?
“Look, I've eaten enough applewood smoked bacon beignets to last me a lifetime, so can we please move onto the proposal and get this over with?” Our waiter pauses next to the table and refills our wine glasses with a small smirk on his face. Hah. I get what this probably looks like: me in a fancy dress, Lex dressed up in a suit that costs more than my car, and talk of a proposal. To most people, this wouldn't look like a business meeting, but a personal one. A way, way, way too personal one.
I clear my throat and sit up straight, frustrated that my plans for going out and finding some hot young dude to dance the night away with were tossed out the window the moment I saw Lex standing outside my townhouse. I run my hands down the front of my dress and let my eyes wander around the restaurant. Located in a small, narrow space with red and black chairs, a blue accent wall, and dark wood floors, this is exactly the type of restaurant the moms like to frequent. Frankly, I would not be surprised to see them walk in the door at any moment. I can only pray that they don't. I don't think I would ever be able to live the moment down.
“Olivia,” Lex says, leaning forward and then pausing to run his tongue across his lower lip. I hate that my eyes follow the motion when he does that. “Oli, don't you want to wait until after our entrées to discuss business? We have all night.” I reach out for my wineglass and take a very healthy sip. It's a light white, crisp and refreshing. I was too busy glaring at Lex when he was ordering to pay attention to the label, but I'm absolutely certain this is not a California grape. The moms would most certainly not approve of that.
“No,” I say, setting my glass down and taking a deep breath. I look Lex in his perfect face and try not to appreciate the dark slash of his cheekbones, the square perfection of his jaw, his moist lips. “We have exactly one hour.” I point at his pocket, indicating his cell phone. “Just as long as your secretary said it would take for the locksmith guy to get to my car. That is it. Anything else
you have to say to me can wait until our meeting with HR on Monday.”
Lex sighs and leans down, grabbing the briefcase from the floor and setting it on the table. He doesn't look happy about having to do it either, despite the fact that this whole meeting was his idea in the first place. He's spent the last half an hour or so trying to, I don't know, woo me or something. But Olivia Ashcraft is not a woman who is easily wooed, especially not by an asshole like this. Yes, things got hot between us last night, but so what? Big deal. I don't really care now nicely his suit jacket pulls across his broad shoulders or how thick and perfect his cock felt when I freed it from his briefs.
Nuh uh.
Do not give a shit about any of that.
Not one freaking shit.
I grab my wineglass and finish off the rest of the liquid.
“Before we discuss this any further, I'm going to have to ask you to sign a nondisclosure agreement.” Lex pulls a piece of paper from his briefcase and passes it across the table to me along with a pen. Frankly, I'm not surprised. This is commonplace in the world of business. I scan the page quickly to make sure I'm not agreeing to anything suspect and sign the dotted line with a flourish. Basically, whatever Lex tells me right now is in complete confidence. I spill the beans, he gets to sue my ass. End of deal, done.
I lean back and cross my arms over my chest, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Lex takes his sweet time filing away the NDA, giving me the distinct impression that he's … nervous. Alexander Lyndon, CEO of Lyndon Realty Trust, is sitting across from me with little beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. He brushes them away like they're nothing, sitting up straight and withdrawing a packet of papers from his briefcase. He tosses them at me with a nonchalance he isn't feeling, trying to pretend that what I just saw was a figment of my imagination. But it wasn't. I know; I saw.
Taming Her Boss Page 5