by Susan Arden
I wandered in and out of the rooms inside the brownstone. Each one was done to the teeth with sumptuous textures, colors, and various works of art. His tastes ran from earth tones with rich, natural textures to large, vibrant abstract works of art popping with oranges and reds.
On the second floor, I stood in front of a set of locked double-doors. I hadn’t found any other barred doorways. I frowned, fingering the crystal doorknobs, certain this had to be the master bedroom. There were other bedrooms, seven so far, and not one had his personal effects. Not that the others were less than perfectly appointed, yet each room lacked any sense of his ownership. Only the study showed signs that the house was his. I retraced my path downstairs, trying to get a sense of him, but being inside this enormous house left me bewildered.
As I stood outside the study, I hesitated. Nonsense.
He was the one who said I was free to investigate. I walked inside, taken aback by the number of computer monitors. It was similar to his office in Miami, but here I studied the slew of surveillance cameras and monitors with security feed from within the townhouse. I watched the screens alternate between the exterior along the sidewalk, the back courtyard, the stairs, and then Graham in the living room. His broad back was to the camera as he leaned against the fireplace, his arm casually pressed over the mantle.
I turned on my heel and then stopped. On a table next to a sofa was a magazine with him on the cover. The woman he was featured with was breathtaking and as exotically beautiful as I’d first thought him. They were an eye-catching pair, and my stomach fluttered as I stared at his hand draped over her hip as though squeezing her rear. I turned the cover to see if it was the way the photograph was displayed. Hell no—Graham definitely had a fistful of her bottom.
A hot spark of jealously snapped through my body, my stomach twisted, and I tossed the magazine on the table. I was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. I learned fast, having already gotten my fingers burned when I decided to do some research on him. And there was no shortage on Google yesterday. I got that a man in his position would tempt the media and only an idiot would take that sort of bait and believe everything posted online was true. That’d be an insane fishing trip, and the only person to get hooked would be the one trolling. Not me. No way.
Returning to the hall, I heard his voice and his sudden laughter. I paused and listened to him speak, his voice taking on a persuasive tone, bordering on charismatic, and then he chuckled again. Not just any laugh—the type meant to cajole. He spoke in French, and I couldn’t catch most of what he said. There were enough oral nuances exchanged to understand whoever was on the other end wasn’t discussing motherboards, hard drives, or the need for better production times. I refused to eavesdrop while lurking in the hallway and returned to the living room, casually entering to see him facing away from me. He must have noticed my reflection in the windowpanes for he straightened and turned around, our gazes locking, and my face heated under his unblinking stare as he spoke on the phone.
Smiling tightly, I sat on the sofa, reaching for yet another magazine and flipping through page after page without paying attention.
His conversation continued for hardly a minute before he said goodbye and “À tout à l’heure.” Whoever he spoke with, he’d be seeing soon.
“Did you explore the place?” he asked, pocketing his phone, and then scrubbing his hand down his face.
“Your home is beautiful. Lots of space,” I replied, watching his movement. “I’m surprised you have only one cell phone.”
“It would only complicate matters. This one is enough.” He sighed, threading his fingers through his hair. “Think you’ll like living here?”
He crossed the floor to stand directly in front of me. This close, his magnetism did things to me, and after seeing that magazine, even though I knew I had to turn a blind eye, I couldn’t. Simmering on a low burn, I didn’t meet his eyes as I sat and smoothed the edge of my skirt. I knew without a doubt he’d see right through my silence and needed to maintain my composure. I focused on my voice and sounding neutral. Normal. Riiiight…
“Sure,” I huffed, biting my lip. Not winning an Academy Award anytime soon, Eliza, with that performance.
“Sure?” he echoed back.
I folded my hands, composing a line of small talk by imagining I was a cast member from Days of Our Lives. “Your place is bigger than I imagined, Graham.” Actually, it resembled a huge museum three times the size of my sister’s home.
His fingers traced along my jaw. “Did you enjoy what you’ve seen so far?”
Still in soap opera character, I continued, “You have an incredible place—so many floors for just little old you.” Feeling a little cocky with my newfound way of dealing with crazy, I lifted my face, and met his eyes. Just as quick, I gulped at his dark and consuming expression. Abort. Abort! The siren continued to echo in my brain.
“Anything you need is a phone call or click away. I’ll introduce you to Marie Alluete, and she’ll take care of getting you acclimated to the city.”
“Marie?” I asked as the familiar knotting in my stomach went into overdrive and reached up into my chest. “Does she visit you often?”
“More than I’d like.” He nodded. “If anyone can get your feet wet, it’s her. She lives in SoHo and knows how things work. I pulled in a favor and asked that she act as your assistant until you’ve established your bearings.”
“Was that her on the telephone?” I couldn’t resist even when a harping voice inside my head shouted, “Shut up!”
He paused. “Yes, and she’s more than happy to play the part of guide and companion as well as doing whatever you need. She’ll be here tomorrow morning.”
“But we won’t have the day to spend together?” I was confused, swinging my gaze to the windows rather than stare longingly up at him.
“I’m behind schedule and just got slammed with some timeline screw-up overseas that’s jerked the rug out from under my feet. Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice, and it’ll take hours to undo the fiasco. I thought it’d be nice for you to have someone show you around. I don’t want you to get lonely. Marie is well-connected and personally knows many of the designers. Trust me, she’s a pro at shopping and has plans to take you around for as long as it takes.”
Did he say shopping? How many times was that in one day? That better not be the only thing he could imagine me doing…well besides what we did together naked and screaming. In a heartbeat, I faced him equipped with a glare. “Shopping? Why would I want to go shopping to the extent that I require a pro?”
“Eliza, we already discussed this issue.”
“I’m not an airhead. I recall. But shopping isn’t a lifetime endeavor or achievement. I got your point the first time around. I’ll pick up a few things. Okay?”
He inhaled like the oxygen molecules would give him the required patience to deal with this. “You’ll need more than a few things. You’ll need a complete wardrobe, for one. And soon.” His gaze flicked up and down my body. “Not that you don’t look spectacular naked, but I don’t envision that you packed an evening gown in your suitcase. Did you?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Correct again, Sherlock.”
“I hope this isn’t gearing up for a debate. You need clothing…the proper attire for day and evening. This Friday, we have a cocktail party to attend at the Museum of Modern Art. Do you have a dress, shoes, and whatever else is required?”
“You’re well aware I only brought one suitcase. No. I didn’t bring an assortment of party dresses and pumps.” I returned his stare, blister and all. “Should I go and get a pad to write down instructions?”
The muscle along his jaw clenched and his dark stare got even darker. “Don’t get your back against the wall. This is part of the agreement. You consented already, and there’s no point in backtracking. Well, there is a point, but I don’t see you wanting to explore it yet.” He widened his stance, his hands bracketing his narrow hips. His muscular build wa
s hardly hidden in his slacks or in the way his rolled up sleeves displayed his sculpted forearms.
“I agreed to attend events with you,” I replied. Hours ago, I’d declined the use of an attorney and signed the contract in triplicate. He signed the agreements as well and gave me one, to do what with I didn’t know.
“In a manner in which I see fit. I won’t have you showing up in anything less than what is customary. Look at this as marketing. I don’t see it as anything else.”
“Fine,” I retorted. “The premise isn’t lost on me.”
“Look, this isn’t an issue to debate. Do you want something to drink?”
“No. Not at the moment.”
He inhaled and color suffused the skin over his face. “I’m thirsty. Come with me into the kitchen. We need to go over a couple of things before it gets too late. I won’t be here tomorrow morning. I want your days structured so you don’t get cabin fever while I’m drowning in meetings. I’ll be back in the late afternoon.”
More control over me but not truly for me. This was exactly as he said: a matter of convenience, time management, for him. It was stupid to argue. Except the way he stood in front of me, his body towering over me had me grinding my teeth. I could imagine he was putting into play measures to placate me as if I were some fool who couldn’t amuse herself. All it felt like was a way for Graham to ensure he’d arrive home without having to pacify a lonely woman.
I rose from the sofa and walked past him when he suddenly took hold of my arm. He held onto me gently but firmly. “Where are you going?”
“Why? Do you have plans for every second of my life?”
“Eliza, I won’t apologize for trying to make this work by foreseeing the issues and dealing with them efficiently. In time, I expect you’ll find a rhythm and things you’ll want to do. Until then, we can fill in the gaps by making you comfortable existing in my world.”
“Micromanaging isn’t required. I’m not a child.” I felt my body quiver. In theory, I knew he wanted me occupied and why. I didn’t know why hearing the woman on the phone upset me. It just did.
“It wasn’t always like this for me. Wealth, power, and status are all well and good until they’re gone. Having a life swept away isn’t something anyone wants to live through.” His voice softened. “Financial ruin is very real. Very painful. I see no purpose in expecting others to have to go through the fire to enjoy life. I want you to enjoy my way of life.”
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. “I understand. It was the tone in your voice when you spoke with Marie…that isn’t what I find enjoyable. Not when it was so unlike the way you address your other associates. Is she your lover, too?”
“No. Marie is not, nor has she ever been anything but a…” His eyes widened, but he abruptly wiped all emotion from his face. “She’s nothing more than a person on my staff whom I’ve known forever. She’s proven herself useful in some sticky situations. I trust her and wouldn’t allow her into our private life if I thought there was some compromise.”
Great. I’d become clingy and admitted it to him. Damage control where are you? I forced a smile to my mouth. “You don’t need to explain more than that. I’ll make an effort to enjoy her company as well.”
Even with his assertion that she was just staff, there was still something in the way he spoke about Marie that irked me. I should have let it go, but the images of Graham I’d seen online, on a magazine in his office, and now after hearing him on the phone fueled my simmer up a notch. He was some sort of icon, man-candy sex magnet. All business, my eyeball.
I flicked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Is this another quid pro quo moment?”
“Depends on what you’re offering up.”
“What do you want?”
A curl tugged at the corners of his lips. “I haven’t properly fucked you today.”
I exhaled. Loudly. Point proven and I didn’t even need to do a thing. “So my work day begins?”
“That’s not funny. Don’t do that to yourself or me.” He raised his palms. “I’d settle for a glass of wine with a beautiful woman.”
“Touché,” I whispered, still waiting to ask my question, and realizing this wasn’t the moment to start cheapening what we had. If anyone found out, they’d do that for us. One question and then I’d let the matter lie. Only inches separated us. I wore heels and still had to look up at him. I trained my focus on his unwavering gaze. Not easy, let me tell you. “Have you ever slept with anyone under your employ?”
“Eliza, I’ve already answered this one. No. Not one person in my employment. I only offered the business reference to you because I know little about you or your interests. Six months is a chunk of your life, and I thought if you had a block of time defined as being engaged in something meaningful like an internship, it might be helpful to you in the future. Don’t sabotage something nice.” He reached between us, curled his fingers over my wrist, and drew me to him. “Don’t make me out to be a son of bitch. Not yet.”
“I’m sorry. This isn’t like me. I don’t like coming off as needy.” Melding against him, I coasted my mouth across his, savoring the warmth from his lips.
He leaned into the kiss, sweeping his tongue into my mouth, and caressing the sides of my face. I didn’t want to think of the other women he’d been with. But how? I fretted, already seeing that this issue might rear up again.
“It’d be easier if you stopped fighting me tooth and nail,” he teased.
I rolled my eyes. “I tried to warn you.” I bit the bottom corner of my lip as he pressed his hips into me. So hard to keep from fighting him, when each time he showed me how he was prepared to deal with our situation.
Graham’s attention lingered on my mouth before dipping lower to my neck, unleashing a dart of yearning that circuited around my body, making me hyper-aware of him. “Let’s go see what we have in the kitchen to drink, and then we need to settle some paperwork.”
“So I keep hearing,” I mumbled, following alongside him to the kitchen.
Light filled the kitchen, reflecting off the granite counters and stainless appliances. Graham took me through the room, opening cabinets filled with glasses and revealing a fully stocked refrigerator along with a pantry resembling a small gourmet market.
“That doorway leads to the wine cellar and a full basement. I don’t have live-in staff, but Filbert manages the place full-time, and a cleaning crew comes in daily when I’m in town. Some guests visit from time to time, and I do have the occasional dinner party. Business related, of course. I’ll introduce you to Filbert; he’ll prepare whatever you like.”
“A housekeeper? Every day?” I asked, watching him as comfortable in this kitchen as he was in his Miami penthouse.
“Don’t call Filbert a housekeeper. He prefers the title of butler since he graduated from an academy. And he’s not around on Sundays. Are you concerned?”
“More like relieved. My sister and her husband did all the cooking. I can deal with a few dishes but nothing worthy of this kitchen and all the gadgets.” I studied the Viking stove. I silently questioned if I could boil water on the monster. “So then my day is Sunday…today?”
“Let’s start small, then. A glass of wine? We’ll go out for dinner. The only thing you need worry about is alleviating my singular appetite. And trust me, you’ve got that base covered.”
“You’re so sure, but I get the feeling your tastes might alter in the blink of an eye. Do you spend nights away from here? Is that something I should expect?” I said the words carefully, walking around the island to put distance between us in a kitchen the size of Yankee stadium and remembering the woman on the magazine cover. She and I were night and day—perhaps his night and day interests.
“Eliza, let’s get this all out in the open. You’ve managed to hit upon my hard-limit, dividing what I will and will not put up with. Jealousy is number one on my list. I have no reason to lie to you and don’t plan on doing so. I didn’t bring you all the way to New York for a conv
enience. If I were that sort, I wouldn’t bring you to my home or have you sleep in my bed. I have been with plenty of women. I won’t lie. But now I’m here with you. I’ll answer your questions but will not entertain your unfounded jealousy.”
With the fire in his eyes, he managed to shrink the space around us into the size of a shoebox. The sound of his voice and his rolling laughter that I’d heard in the living room had wedged a sliver doubt in my thoughts. I didn’t see where we actually fit together in this place—him at work and me here during the day.
I leaned over the counter. “Why are you annoyed? You’re the one who wanted to get to know one another. I don’t get how this is all supposed to fit together.”
“Then give it a chance. That’s all I’m asking from you.”
Graham had the means to make good on each and every flickering interest that tempted him, meaning me and my body. He went from open to unreadable from one heartbeat to the next. “It’s not easy when I see you on the cover of Business Weekly with a beautiful woman, obviously enjoying her hips with your hand.”
His palm came down hard on the counter. “I’m not going to feed your jealousy about what you saw on a magazine cover. If anything is a timewaster, that emotion has got black hole written all over it. Are you going to go off the deep end every time I talk to a woman?” He moved to follow me, and I changed tack, backtracking.
“Then why are you getting so upset?” I asked, and he held my gaze steadily with his endless dark eyes. Unaware of what was behind me, I stop breathing as I felt each wham of my heartbeat against my ribs until I reached the end of the island. Grabbing hold of the corner, I held onto the cold stone surface. Graham walked toward me with a speculative expression. Instinct took over and I turned, slipping around the other side of the island, and faced him. Oh shit. What did I just do by running away from him?
“Holy fuck…Eliza, stop. I swear if I get a hold of you, I’ll do more than spank your ass,” he snarled, drawing his shoulders upward, and slowly placing both of his palms on the granite counter. His face darkened as he scowled at me. “Young lady, you’re coming with me into my study. I told you we needed to go over some issues, and I think you’ll find what you’re brewing is without a cause. The idea of spreading your ass over this counter and fucking you until you scream is motivation in itself to get off track. Tomorrow, my schedule will explode. I can’t afford a mishap. Don’t make me think I’m not being serious enough with you in letting you freely plan your days. I can easily structure your time as I see fit. If we need to dive into the deep side of the discipline pool, rest assured, I’ll do whatever is necessary to staunch this need to question if I’m going to hurt you in some sinister way. I will patiently teach you. Using my body and everything available to me in order to get you to understand, I mean business. But never in the cowardly ways you’re imagining. Baby, let those go. I won’t hurt you. If anything, I promise to protect you. Always.”