“Doreen, did we get 1K retweets on the MacDonnell release?”
“Yes, boss, we got a little bit over that! I’m about to try something new and see if I get better results with the help of Instagram influencers.”
“Well done!”
Her smile is so broad, I swear she’s about to dance, but then she sees me observing her, and she bites her lip and hides behind the monitor.
Mark leans closer to speak, and I suppress a shiver, but then I catch the sight of a person farther away. He props his frame against the glass office door, waiting for us to approach him.
“Our marketing team is great. These people are masterminds behind the scenes. The social media world is at their fingertips. This is where all the magic happens.”
“And who is he?” I motion at the man who appears to be in his late twenties with a unique sense of fashion. He wears a bright pink shirt paired with a vest and jeans. His batman buckle on his leather belt shines at me and his short dark hair is styled with gel.
“Let’s meet the man who wields magic,” he whispers, excited, leading me straight to him.
“Hi, I’m Peter but not Pan.”
I snigger at his nerdy remark as he pushes his black frame glasses up his nose.
“Mr. Lawson here actually isn’t exasperating about us. We are social media wizards. Nothing happens until we explode all over the Internet and mass media channels like a bad spell.”
Peter’s one of these geek guys you either love or avoid. But I feel very comfortable around him since I like to take a step back and listen, observe my surroundings before diving in.
“Peter has worked with us for over eight years, and he’s the head of this department. He’s also the one who’s pulling strings and makes the books sell.”
Peter’s eyes light up as Mark speaks about him. His appreciation and acknowledgment go a long way.
“Did you know a very famous movie star signed up with us to write his biography book?” Eyes sparkle as he dishes.
Unable to help myself, I ask, “Oh, really, who is it?”
“Chris Baker.” He grabs me from Mark and leads me toward his neat—and full of colorful stationery—covered desk. “The man has such a vibrant charisma. I swear, I’ll be buying a bulk of his books.”
I chuckle as he goes into more detail about the future plans and ideas on how to market this particular star.
“If you have any interesting concepts, bring them to me. Sometimes the worst ideas become the best with a little work.” Peter winks and leaves us.
We continue touring for a while, visiting other departments. I lost count of how many people I met or spoke to. But not Mark. He addressed them by their first names, sometimes even asking about their spouses or kids, talked about their admirable work.
He’s a god here. And Fading Ink is his kingdom. He takes care of his subjects.
“Don’t worry, they won’t take offense if you forget their names,” Mark suddenly speaks, watching me scribble my notes. I swallow my surprise; he actually noticed me doing that.
“I’d feel better if I don’t ask every time we see each other.” I save the changes and close the app.
After he shows me around, his ghostly touch feathers my spine with warmth, guiding me back to the elevator to return to our floor. I press the button, and the door closes.
“What do you think about Fading Ink since you saw it all?” His husky voice washes over my skin like an intimate lover’s whisper. I bite my lip to rein in the attraction so I can answer him.
I crane my neck to look at him watching me from the corner of his eyes. “I think your house is very modern and has great structure and leadership. You treat your employees well, and it shows in the way they work as a team and how much enthusiasm they bring to the table. The atmosphere is incredible, and that alone is quite an achievement in my eyes.”
“So, you like it here so far.” His lips stretch into a grin.
“It has been only a few hours, but yes, I do. To be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve felt this excited to work.” Feeling Mark’s gaze caressing my bright hair, I rake my hand over it to smooth the edges, nervous he might see my injuries. It’s not a secret how I got them, but I feel very exposed and uncomfortable when they start asking questions.
I always carefully apply my makeup to hide my scars, but when I stand next to him, I feel my imperfections contrasting with his flawless beauty. His gaze crunches in confusion, catching sight of my hand. Dammit, I forgot about it.
Transfixed, he traces it until I awkwardly lower it next to my side, my cheeks flaming in embarrassment.
“May I?” he requests, extending his palm toward me.
Curious about what he’ll do, I place it in his palm. A deep slash runs down my palm and ends a few inches above my wrist. His finger pads gently trace the edges, and my breath hitches inside my chest. I gasp, shocked by the way my body comes alive at the contact.
“A scar of a warrior,” he states, and I blink, retracting my hand.
I’m about to step away, but then his gentle fingers reach for my face, brushing away the hair. I freeze.
What is he doing?
The elevator comes to a halt, and I jerk away from him, anxious to make as much space between us as I can. I’m afraid he might be like many others, trying to use me. I learned from my mistakes to not blindly trust people. Many think I’m an opportunist who won’t mind such attention to further my own social status. They’re wrong. I don’t want it. The life of bling and posing isn’t for me.
To distract myself from what just happened, I ask him, moving toward the empty reception desk, “Do you want me to order you something to eat?”
“Let me order for both of us. I think we need to get to know each other if we’re going to work together.” He picks up the phone, motioning for me to take a seat like nothing major transpired between us.
My heart palpitates, anxious to be around him and trust his intentions.
“What about Robert? Do you want me to see if he wants to join us?”
He absently shakes his head, but I go to check Robert’s office anyway. It’s empty. Sneezing from the dust, I hesitate at the door to return to Mark’s office. Instead, I retreat into mine.
What happened was far too intimate and inappropriate for two working colleagues. Let alone for my boss to touch me that way. I close my eyes, resting my back against the shelves in my little office, hiding from the man taking me by storm.
Dammit, I can’t go this route again. Perhaps Mark Lawson has the wrong idea about me. If that’s the case, I won’t be able to work here.
Falling in bed with Logan earned me quite a reputation even if we got married and had twins together. I’m still judged, dissected like an insect and displayed like a stuffed animal for everyone to point at.
“Cassandra.” His husky voice filtering from the next room snaps me from my thoughts, racing just like my pulse.
Straightening my back, I gather my resolve to tell him I’m way too busy for lunch. I can’t let anyone ruin this for me. My life’s complicated enough as it is.
But when I enter, the look on his face dissolves my willpower. Those lips are pressed in a line, forming a grimace as if he’s conflicted about something.
When he notices me in the doorway, watching him adjust his watch on his wrist, he rises to speak. “I need to apologize for the way I took the liberty to touch you. It was inappropriate, and I need you to know this won’t happen again.” His sincere expression makes me feel better about my own reaction. And perhaps, Mark Lawson isn’t like other men.
“I think we should keep our relationship strictly professional.”
He nods, holding my gaze for a moment and then motioning for me to take a seat opposite him.
“The food will arrive soon. Why don’t we talk?”
“What do you want to know?” I rub my lips together, crossing my legs when I sit.
“Tell me about your career goals.” He pauses, and his gaze fills up with interest
. “We might be able to help you achieve them if we know in what direction you want to go.”
I exhale a relieved breath and smile.
“To be honest, I'd love to learn everything about publishing, not only the marketing side of it. I dream of opening my own independent publishing house in the future and running it myself.”
“So, it's possible one day you’ll be my competition.”
I grin at him, pleased he isn’t apprehensive about sharing the knowledge or feeling threatened by me. My respect for him grows.
“Well, I have a lot to learn.”
“How about the short-term goals?”
“After seeing your marketing department and meeting people who work there, I definitely want to join Peter and his team. To help run and organize projects and marketing campaigns.”
“Stick around and you will. This is a perfect position to start. You’ll be in the epicenter of it all, even if you work on this floor with us. Just watch the people and learn. When you see an opportunity, take on the challenge, step up,” he says, providing me with encouraging advice.
When the food arrives, I’m comfortable to be around him once again.
“I’ll be traveling to the Middle East to see if we can extend our business there. Would you like to join my team and me? It would be hectic, but it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to see how it works.” He digs his chopsticks into the noodles, twisting them until he has a fair amount on them.
“It sounds awesome,” I smile.
We slip into the conversation about work like it’s natural to us. By the time we finish our lunch, I have more knowledge about the company than what I started with. It’s just this feeling in my belly that concerns me. I keep slipping into this sensual energy pulsing around us, consuming my thoughts and obliterating logic.
4
Ignited
~Mark~
I almost blew it.
But when I noticed that wound on her hand, something propelled me to see it from up close. It looked like a replica of my own, except Cassandra’s scar was etched by the debris and mine with a scalpel. Grazing my fingers over the scarred tissue in the center of my chest, I recall how it felt to touch hers. I could feel the nerves on my own wound respond like we were connected with a live wire, pulsing with so much potency it took me by surprise.
I didn’t even notice how space between us melted, and we stood inches apart. The feel of her skin and subtle reaction to my touch drove me to explore it further. I don’t know, if we had a moment longer, I wouldn’t have had the strength to step back without a taste of her lips. I’ve never had such a strong impulse to get close to another human being. Until her.
For the next two weeks, I tried to keep my distance so Cassandra would feel comfortable enough to work here and establish her own position. Robert, as if knowing, took over her training, utilizing her skills as he saw fit and befriending her in the process.
“You are avoiding her,” Rob speaks with his mouth full of food.
We decided to have an early lunch close to the Fading Ink cafeteria since we both skipped breakfast. Thinking about Cassandra, I rub my chest as my scar in the middle starts to ache.
“You okay?” Rob asks, knowing I must take extra care with my health. He puts down his food and brings me another bottle of water. I always keep myself fit, eating well, knowing I must be in shape to stay healthy.
“Thanks.” I gulp half of it before answering. “I’m fine, just worried about the Middle East debacle. I spoke with Aaron. He wants to end our agreement.”
“I don’t get it. Why?” Rob’s right. Before us, their company was about to go bankrupt. “What do they want? More money?”
I shrug because during these conversations I just got more and more frustrated. His answers were sketchy, and that made me suspicious about where the Moudis stand.
“Do you think he got a better deal from someone else?”
“Who knows. Ready?”
Rob nods, pushing his empty plate in the middle, and we both leave, taking a walk through the park. My gaze snaps to the family of six playing near the swings, their laughter drifting to us. But when a man picks up a girl, my breathing halts as the memories force their way into my mind.
His hand on me. His breath wafting off him, as he . . . His gaze dark with corruption, plowing into me. Being completely alone with my own pain and shame. And acute need to dive deeper into the chasm and drown in there, so the reality wouldn’t hurt this much.
My gaze zeroes in on the man’s hands, his face, his reactions. From where I stand, the man looks just like him. I fight the urge to snatch the girl from his hands and hide her from him. But I often see evil in people, not the light.
So, I force my legs to move, fighting a PTSD episode from taking over. Not all fathers are monsters, I remind myself while pressure clutches my chest like shackles. Breathe.
After we return to Fading Ink, we both dive deep into work, and Robert forgets to interrogate me about Cassandra. For a little while, I forget her too. But not for long.
“Mr. Lawson, Darren Cade is calling. Shall I connect you?”
“Yes, please.” I swivel around in my chair, so I face the beautiful panorama, dusk painted in red and orange hues. I exhale a long breath, knowing this conversation was long coming. Surprisingly, it took Darren two weeks to call.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, old man?” I grumble my greeting.
“Why is Cassandra Cade working at Fading Ink, Mark? I thought I was clear when I told you to stay away from her.” His words are full of hidden disdain for the woman who became their son’s widow just a few hours after they exchanged vows.
“And I thought you knew me better than this, Darren. I don’t do well with orders. I’m my own man, and your permission to hire new staff was never required,” I reprimand him in a tight tone, irritated he’s patronizing me.
“Have some respect, son, I won’t tolerate you speaking to me this way.”
Perhaps this works with his sons but not with me. The more he tries to exert his authority over me, the more I’m tempted to push him back and show him who I am. Since his son died, Darren thinks he has a grip on me, that I owe him my obedience. Except, he’s wrong. I’ll never allow another man to take control of me.
“I’m not your son, Darren. I’m a man with my own empire to rule. She came to work here, and she will remain as long as she wishes to do so.” My steely tone invites no arguments.
Pregnant silence greets me on the other end, and then he cracks a warning.
“She’s in more danger this way, Mark. If you care for her well-being, kick her out and send her home. This job’s painting a huge target on her back.”
“Cassandra had a target on her back since she took your family’s name. I have little to do with it. You and I know the truth, why you’re so opposed to her being close to me.”
“Whatever you think you feel for her isn’t real. Just let her be and use your second chance wisely.” He disconnects the call before I can retort.
Well, this went as well as expected. It isn't Darren I’m cautious off, but Lucas and Leif. Logan’s triplets. They both became very close to their brother's widow and stayed to help her after he died. These two will be hell to deal with, but there’s nowhere for me to retreat. I made my decision, and to be honest, I don’t know if it’ll save me or destroy me in the end.
After the call from Darren, I stay to work a little bit over the office hours.
“You still here?” Rob barges into my office, bringing the fresh scent of his cologne.
“Going somewhere?” I ask, ignoring his question. He probably has some hot date set for tonight.
“Want to come with me?” he asks, hopeful, but I shake my head, loosening my tie and discarding my jacket on the back of the chair. My mind spins with the things I need to get done.
“You’re probably the only one in this world who has an affair with his work.”
“Yeah, somebody has to.”
“Hey, this
place is my home too.”
I chuckle because he comes to sleep here almost every other night.
“Night, Mark.”
Old habits die hard, I guess. We both lived on the streets, and it left an impact on us. Rob sleeps here because this livelihood is his security blanket as is mine. Without it, we’d end up eating food from the dumpsters. That’s why we’re very protective of this place. It’s a compulsion we both can’t shake off even now.
After a few hours, I’m ready to leave Fading Ink, but I decide to check on the production first. Just to make sure the team managed to produce mockups as I requested. I grab my things and descend to the fourth floor.
After inspecting all the materials, I leave notes on the desk for Peter’s assistant, knowing she’s the one who keeps him on track. Before I go, I log onto the computer with my own access to send an email to my secretary about the things I require to be ready by the time I’ll come to work.
When the elevator opens, I don’t expect to find Cassandra standing there with a raincoat and handbag in her hands, gaping at me.
“Mark? I didn’t know you’re still here.”
The surprise is written all over her delicate features as she locks her pale gaze with mine. Walking into the elevator, I turn around to press the button to the foyer.
“Working late?” I twist my neck to watch her chew her lip nervously.
“I wanted to finish a few things for the release tomorrow.”
I’m about to ask if she needs a lift home after working this late, when the elevator shudders, creaking like a dying monster, and then it starts to free fall.
On pure instinct, I grasp her, seizing her small form into my protective embrace. Her terrified shrieks echo in the space. We halt as the brakes activate, stopping our short descent, shrouding us into darkness for a moment. An emergency, blue LED light illuminates the small area almost in an instant.
My gaze snaps to her filled with dread. “We’re safe. This elevator system has safety features to deal with such straining scenarios. It has been tested before.” I try to reassure her as she clutches onto my shirt, pressing her delicious curves against me even closer.
Tangled IN LIES (Book#3, IN YOU) Page 4