"Sophie, my child, you are not listening to me. You don't give it, that's the whole point. You tempt and then giveth not. Guaranteed to drive him nuts. You might as well try to have fun with this."
Liz's insane words slowly sank in. She looked at her friend thoughtfully. "You know what? I'm probably going to regret this, but you may be onto something. Where do we start?"
Liz squealed and clapped her hands. "Step one: shopping. I'll explain the rest as we go."
Chapter Eight
His offices were stunning.
The morning following the disastrous reveal, she walked into the high rise in Midtown East. As she walked up to the security desk, an older man with white hair smiled widely.
"Miss Harlow, we've been expecting you."
No surprise that he knew her name already. Lucas Sinclair was anything if not thorough.
But that wasn't the security guard's fault. She smiled back, the stretch of her lips across her teeth belying the anxiety she felt.
Forget butterflies crashing in her stomach, these were straight up bald eagles fighting for space.
"Here's your building badge. You'll take the first elevator up to the fiftieth floor, and then use your badge on the access point right before the double glass doors. The access point should beep, and the light will turn green. There's a reception desk inside. Rosie, the receptionist will direct you from there."
Her eyes fell to the badge she clutched with a death grip. She started when she saw her own smiling face staring up at her from the badge.
It was the same photo she'd had on her security badge at the firm.
Thorough.
The poor, smiling fool in the photo clearly had no idea what her future had in store for her. If she had, there would have been a scowl gracing her face. She sighed deeply, before thanking him.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. "It'll be okay, Miss Harlow. You'll see."
She had no idea why she took comfort in what he said, but she did. She looked at the small silver name badge on his uniform.
"Thank you, Fred. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of one another." She bestowed a slightly less strained smile before she followed his directions.
It was early still, right before seven thirty. She'd come in earlier than her normal start time, hoping to familiarize herself with enemy territory before she had to face the man himself.
The elevator doors pinged open, and she stepped inside. The interior of the elevator was all mirrors. She studied her reflection as it traveled up to the fiftieth floor, cringing.
Her usual style was conservative by nature. Normally, she wore her suits a size larger. Not only was it comfortable, but also it concealed her figure.
In a professional environment, that was important.
Or at least it had been.
The night before, Liz had dragged her into Bergdorf's with glee. They'd used her personal shopper and several hours later she walked out with both a skimpier wardrobe and wallet. She was positive there were tears in her eyes when she'd seen the ridiculous amount of money she’d spent. Nonetheless, she’d signed the credit card slip.
No turning back now.
She still sported a suit but it looked vastly different than her usual get up. The dark, navy pencil skirt hugged her hips before stopping short several inches above her knees. The suit jacket was the same color and it was so fitted, it looked like it had been tailor-made for her body. Underneath, she wore a blush pink silk camisole, only a hint of lace peeked out from where she'd left the top button of the jacket undone. Liz insisted she wear sheer stockings, garters, and insanely high nude pumps.
“What you can’t see is just as important as what you can,” she’d said. “Plus, it will make you feel sexier.”
“I’m going to break my neck in these heels.”
“Well, if you land on the floor, make sure you hike up your skirt so he can see the garter.”
“You’re certifiably insane.”
“I just prefer to make margaritas out of lemons.”
She’d glared at her friend, but relented in the end.
The finishing touch was a long strand of pearls, looped around her neck twice with a haphazard knot tied at the end of one of the loops. That evil touch, she’d thought of on her own. If his memories of that night were anything like hers, he would lose it at the sight of her pearls.
The digital numbers on the elevator monitor displayed forty-five. Five more floors to go until show time. She critically surveyed her appearance once more.
The elevator doors slid open. She clutched the handle of her briefcase tightly and took a deep breath for courage before she stepped out.
An endless expanse of gleaming, white marble floor covered the ground, and even though her shoes were brand new, she felt guilty walking on it. Everything was stark white or glass. Beyond the glass double doors was a pristine, white circular reception desk graced only by a generous arrangement of white calla lilies.
It should have been intimidating and sterile.
Instead, she found it stunning.
Classy. So beautiful in its stark simplicity, that she was drawn to it. She wanted to run her fingers over the smooth surface of the desk, rub a petal between her fingers to see if it was as soft as it looked.
She blinked a few times and willed away her confusing thoughts. No point in standing around here daydreaming. The badge she still held in her other hand beeped against the black security access point. The light turned green, and she pulled at the silver chrome handle on the door.
It didn’t budge. She badged in again, pulled again, and nothing happened.
Maybe this is a sign. This is definitely a sign. A sign that you need to turn tail and get the hell out of Dodge. Carter will figure something out to save the firm. You’ll help him.
But even as her brain worked through different suggestions and escape plans, her high-heeled feet seemed glued to the spot where she stood.
Until a large male hand with a light sprinkle of dark hair covered the hand she still had on the handle.
She jerked back in surprise, her back and ass landing against a firm, hard body. Warmth suffused her body at the contact, and she stifled something between a moan and a groan.
His lips met the curve of her ear. “You have to push,” he whispered against her skin. “Like this.”
She wanted nothing more than to stand there and memorize this moment, but logic won out. This was a man who was manipulative, scheming, and used to throwing his money around to get whatever he wanted.
She’d had enough of his type to last her a million lifetimes. Even though she could still feel the sharp pang of humiliation from what Zach had done to her, she thanked God every single day that she hadn’t married him.
That thought was enough to galvanize her into action. She pushed hard and moved quickly while every hormone in her body screamed in protest.
Unfazed, he followed her inside. She turned around to face him. “Where will I be working?” Her voice sounded even and steady, and she mentally gave herself a pat on the back for regaining her composure.
You shouldn’t have lost it in the first place.
He stood shocked and still for a moment, his eyes flaring in blatant approval as he took in her appearance. When his eyes landed on her necklace, a tic in his jaw pulsed.
Good. This was exactly what you wanted.
She couldn’t help the tiny thrill that coursed through her body at his approval.
Or the light moisture that suddenly gathered between her thighs.
Okay, so maybe the thrill wasn’t exactly tiny, and the moisture had been there longer than just suddenly.
She licked her lips, which felt dry despite the gloss she’d slicked on earlier.
But then his eyes quickly shuttered, and his face took on a bland expression.
As if she hadn’t affected him at all.
“You’re early,” he noted. When she shrugged, he turned on his heel. “Rosie isn’t here until eight, so I guess I’ll have to s
how you around.”
And then he kept walking.
She froze.
He certainly wasn’t acting like an obsessed pervert who had stalked her.
Before she could process anything else, he turned around at the beginning of a hallway at the end of the reception area. “Coming?” he asked impatiently.
And then a few of Liz’s words came rushing back to her mind. Crazy as they were, she remembered who she was, what she had on – both visible and hidden.
She lifted her chin and met his challenging stare with a steady gaze of her own.
He wasn’t going to intimidate her.
She pursed her lips together in what she hoped was a businesslike manner and walked towards him. As she moved, she was suddenly conscious of the way her hips swayed with the rhythm of her steps. The way her hair brushed the soft skin of her nape.
She was a woman.
And she had a magical and mysterious vagina with goddess-like qualities.
*****
“Rosie,” he barked.
The intercom in his office beeped back at him. “What?”
He clenched his jaw in annoyance. “This coffee is too sweet.”
Less than thirty seconds later, Rosie, his ever efficient receptionist and secretary, waddled into his office, with her hand pressed against the small of her back. She looked at him archly. “Too sweet?”
He nodded.
“If my water breaks while I’m on a Starbucks run, I expect you to double my maternity leave, and I want a twenty percent raise when I get back.
“Oh, for God’s sake, you’re only five months along!”
“And you don’t have a uterus, so you don’t know what this feels like!”
He just scowled and pushed the cup towards the edge of his desk. Rosie was just busting his balls. Several times, he’d asked Sean’s assistant to get his coffee for him so he wouldn’t have to ask Rosie, and each and every time, she bit his head off.
“She’s got you this hard up, huh?”
His eyes snapped away from the computer monitor and back to Rosie’s smirking face. Her dark eyes held an unholy glee in them as she looked at him with something akin to satisfaction expressed on her features.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered. “Coffee?” he reminded her, but he knew it was useless when she padded over to one of the chairs that faced his desk and plopped down.
“I should have fired you ages ago,” he grumbled. “Who has an assistant that talks back and orders her boss around?”
“You do,” she retorted. “You would never fire me. You can’t wipe your ass without me.” Her voice took on a deep, throaty sound as she impersonated him. “Rosie, I need you to move Michael’s office down to the end of the hall. Rosie, I need you to get the decorator in here ASAP. Rosie, make sure there are flowers everywhere. Rosie, make sure you get the computer login set up and hire an assistant for the new lawyer before she gets here.” Her voice took on it’s regular, high-pitch as she glared indignantly at him. “And all within four days! Do you know how much effort that is? Especially when I’m pregnant?”
Shame came over him. “I know,” he said contritely. “I’m sorry.”
And she pounced.
“Enough to give me the week after next off and let us use your beach house in the Outerbanks? David and I need some alone time before this one comes.” She rubbed her belly.
“Okay,” he agreed, rubbing a hand against his forehead.
She stared at him with surprise on her face. “You’re not even going to give me a hard time or make me fight for it?”
He shook his head wearily.
“Wow, she really has got you wound up tight, huh?”
She had no idea.
When he’d found her, he’d been elated. It hadn’t taken much, just a few well-placed phone calls to some of the more discreet individuals in his circle. Within twenty-four hours of locating her, he had all the information he needed to bring her back into his life. It had been easy, almost ridiculously so.
But this was what he did. He thrived off the chase.
Off the chase of obtaining the impossible.
But now sweet Sophie Harlow was trying to kill him.
He was a man who believed in taking care of his health. He worked out regularly, and had even installed a gym in a small room off of his office so he could stay in shape and work off stress when it hit. It was a good thing he didn’t suffer from high blood pressure or poor health, because he’d nearly been knocked off his ass when he’d seen her this morning.
Her small, curvy figure had been poured into an excuse for a suit. She’d been wearing fuck-me heels, and she’d had on her pearl necklace … and then, she’d just stood there, staring at him with those incredibly warm, dark brown doe eyes and an innocent expression on her face.
He’d wanted to throw her on Rosie’s desk and fuck the daylights out of her, security cameras and public space be damned.
“She’s hot,” Rosie offered unhelpfully.
He growled in frustration.
“Nice, too. Not like your usual.”
No, Sophie was nothing like his usual. She was perfect. Sweet, and sexy, and completely unable to keep emotion off of her expressive face. He wasn’t exactly sure how or why she was a lawyer, and there was the distinct possibility that she wasn’t even good. When he’d met with Carson McPherson, the man had tried to dissuade him from retaining Sophie, offering him a choice of one or several of his best attorneys for the same amount of money he’d offered.
But he’d resisted. It had to be her, or he’d take his business elsewhere.
And now he’d gotten what he’d wanted, but he’d also possibly compromised his company and the livelihoods of hundreds of his employees because he was thinking with his dick.
Chapter Nine
It was the longest month of her life.
She'd been following Liz's plan to a T, but he didn't so much as blink at her. If they passed each other in the hallway, he would nod cordially and keep moving.
The asshole couldn't even deign to speak to her.
Several times she'd been tempted to stomp into his office, which just so happened to be conveniently right next to hers, and demand that he explain exactly what she was supposed to do and why her presence was required in his offices. There had been no mention of the "big deal" he'd spoken of earlier.
Her first assignment had been to review the company's standard offer letter and finalize it with Sally, the HR director. There had been enough legalese in the letter for her to suspect that a lawyer had drafted the original document. She'd been confused, but she made a few edits before handing it back over to Sally. The other woman had wordlessly nodded her agreement to everything she’d suggested without any objections or meaningful feedback and promptly escaped her office.
Now, she was collating various policies and procedures into an employee handbook, inserting various legal terms and clauses where she thought it was appropriate.
She was bored out of her mind.
She’d done more challenging work as an intern. If she’d been allowed to keep her caseload, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but because she was exclusively retained, she couldn’t work on anything else.
Asshole.
What made everything worse, was that she was under a microscope. His employees gave her a wide berth, but she caught the curious glances they shot her when no one thought she was looking. There were only three people in the office she could talk to, and two of them were usually too busy.
Rosie, who served as receptionist and assistant to Lucas, was a hoot. She was hugely pregnant and possessed a rapier sharp wit. Even though she gave her boss a hard time, she was intensely loyal to him. The few times Sophie had tried to bring him up to see if she could get more information, the other woman had shut her down within seconds.
Sean, his best friend and partner, was a shameless flirt. Harmless enough, although he seemed to only bother her when Lucas was in the vicinity—which
never happened for very long.
And then there was Tyrone, her new assistant.
She’d never had an assistant before, and so she really didn’t know what to use him for. There had been associates, lawyers more junior than her, at the firm, and she’d been able to delegate work to them.
But Tyrone had majored in fashion design at Parsons, and he had no legal background to speak of. He dramatically claimed to any and all who would listen, that he’d worked as a slave for several design houses, before he got hip to the scene and bounced. Now, he made twice as much money in a forty-hour workweek than he had in during an eighty hour one.
Although she really had no idea what he filled his forty hours with. He answered her phone, for which she was immensely grateful—especially when her mother called. He went on coffee runs, but she usually accompanied him because she was bored out of her mind with so little to do. A week ago, he'd invited himself over to her apartment to "help." He'd snapped pictures of every piece of clothing and all of the accessories she owned, including bags and shoes. Since then, he'd been putting together "look books" for her, mixing and matching different images into perfectly coordinated outfits.
She now had an album on her smartphone cataloguing fashionable, sexy-but-still-appropriate work outfits.
Outfits that were clearly not serving their purpose since Lucas hadn’t glanced at her more than once since her first day in his offices.
And the disappointment she felt was because her plan wasn’t working. It’s not like she cared if he really wanted her or anything.
She sighed deeply. He’d caged her up, just like a helpless canary. Now, all she did was sit there and try to look pretty while he killed her with boredom and ignored her. Even Liz had been puzzled by his behavior.
Just then, Tyrone stepped into her office. His huge chocolate brown eyes were wider than normal, sparkling with excitement. She kept making notes to ask him which mascara he used and then promptly forgot each time.
She opened her mouth to pose her question, but he dramatically held his hand up. “Me first,” he demanded.
This should be good. His long, reed-thin legs were trembling so much so that she feared he might have an accident in his tight, black and white hounds-tooth pants. He wore a bright pink, tailored oxford, and he’d cleverly knotted a bright orange scarf around the collar at his neck.
Beyond Bliss Page 6