Forbidden Pleasure

by Taryn Leigh Taylor

  “She doesn’t have any more time to usher you around than I do. She’s on a tight deadline with a very important project and—”

  “It’s fine.” She had to force the words out. She didn’t want to be alone with Charles Whitfield for even a second. She never did, and after what had happened between her and Max, the prospect felt a million times worse.

  But she recognized in his eyes the threat of disobeying him on this...request. They were the same amber as his son’s, but where Max’s were fiery, Charles Whitfield’s eyes were flat. Malevolent.

  Max sent her a sharp glare, but she shook her head, ignoring the impulse to lay a hand on his arm. She didn’t want to give Charles any more ammunition. She could already tell that he’d noticed the protective way Max had stepped in front of her.

  “It’s fine. Go to your meeting. I’ll walk Mr. Whitfield down to the lobby.”

  “Come, come, Emma. No need for such formality. Please, call me Charles.”

  Max searched her face, but Emma nodded at the implied “are you sure?” and he relented. “Next time you and Kaylee are having lunch, meet her at the restaurant.”

  “Whatever you say, son. After all, you’re the boss.” Charles sneered the word, then turned and headed into the hallway.

  Emma took a step to follow, but was surprised when Max grabbed her elbow, stepped close enough that she could feel his body heat along her left side. He tipped his head down, and his voice was low and steely in her ear.

  “Take him straight to the lobby. No detours. I’ll have security on stand-by. If Kaylee’s not already down there, don’t wait with him. Come straight back up. If I don’t see you in ten minutes, I’m coming looking for you.”

  Then the heat of him was gone, and he’d turned his back on her, his cell phone pressed to his ear as he spoke with the head of building security.

  It seemed a little excessive. Unless there was a reason that Max feared for her physical safety...

  The realization hit hard and fast.

  Emma took a bracingly deep breath to steady herself, to keep from vomiting at the abuse Max had suffered at his father’s hands. Then she stepped out into the hallway.

  “Well, well, well,” Charles drawled, reigniting the churning in her stomach. “My little songbird forgot to give me the most important information of all. It seems my son isn’t as cold to everyone as he is to me.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she hissed, ignoring the reference to whatever he might have witnessed between her and Max in the boardroom. She took off down the hallway, leaving Charles to follow in her wake. He caught up more quickly than she would have liked.

  “Such a caustic reception.”

  “Because you make me sick!” she snapped. She’d thought he was bad enough, taking advantage of her mother’s Alzheimer’s, but now she could barely stand to look at him.

  “Strong words. Do not delude yourself into thinking anything has changed here, Emma. You know what’s at stake.”

  The reminder balled her fists. Emma made herself count through the wave of fury.

  “I will admit, I’m surprised to see you. Off to chase your family history across the pond, wasn’t it? Imagine my surprise when my good friend Rich Dorchester said you’d shown up, bright and early on Monday morning, just like always.”

  She whirled around to face him at the mention of one of Whitfield Industries’ board members. “You have people spying on me?”

  Charles’s chuckle grated against her skin.

  “Rich isn’t a spy. He’s a fool who can’t hold his liquor, and he’s happy to chat when I’m buying. When I asked him how Max was making out without you, he seemed...surprised. After that, I was suddenly desperate to eat lunch with my lovely daughter, just to touch base and see how she and her brother are faring. I figured I’d kill two birds, as the saying goes.”

  That he would mask his odious fact-gathering with parental concern made her stomach churn. Not just because she hated the idea of him running the scam on Kaylee, whom Emma liked very much, but because it was the same way he’d reeled in Emma in the first place. She’d had no reference for a parent who would put money before family. Use his daughter for information. Or take a belt to his son.

  Shame swamped her as they passed Max’s empty office and stepped into the elevator. She was glad to see there was a delivery guy already inside. It would keep her from having to talk to Charles. She kept her eyes forward, watching as the silver doors slid shut.

  The guilt was like acid in her stomach. This was all her fault.

  She was in too deep. It had seemed like nothing at the time. Leak some information to Charles. It was never anything top secret, and it was always things that were announced publicly a few days later, and for that, her mother was taken care of. Not just taken care of, she had the best care money could buy. It was a no-brainer.

  The first time she’d met Charles Whitfield, she’d thought him charming. He’d seemed so sincere, telling her how worried he was about his arrogant, inexperienced son.

  “Brilliant though,” he’d told her, his voice gruff with pride. Or so she’d thought.

  “Max wants to prove himself, but he’s not as good as he thinks he is, and you’ve got to help him.”

  Charles shook his head. “I’ve tried, but what child wants his father to interfere? And really, I’m proud of him. It takes a lot of guts to take the reins from your old man. There’s greatness in him. He’s just not there yet. Still too worried what everyone thinks, and this project can’t afford to have Max splitting his focus.

  “He’s got a lot of eyes on him, and if he fails... Well, we can’t let that happen. It would destroy Whitfield Industries. For good, this time. I made mistakes, Emma. I’m not denying it. But with your help, I can avoid making the biggest one of all. A boy needs his father. Max can’t see it now, but he will. And with your help, I can make sure I’m there when he comes around.

  “You’ll be compensated, of course. I understand your mother is unwell...”

  The elevator stopped two floors down, and someone else got on.

  She was a fool to have agreed. Max wasn’t some addlebrained youth, out to prove to his father who had the bigger balls. He was a force to be reckoned with, dangerously brilliant, a man who took quick, decisive action based on a thorough vetting of the information presented to him.

  But thanks to an overseas trip that had kept him out of the office for the first three weeks after he’d hired her, she’d already agreed to her devil’s bargain before she’d seen for herself which of the Whitfield men needed the other.

  And by the time she’d realized she’d been played, she’d had to keep playing.

  “Imagine if I stopped paying the other half of your mother’s medical bills...”

  And then, when the guilt had become too much, and she’d told him she didn’t care if he sicced a horde of creditors on her, he’d changed tactics.

  “It would be a shame if there was an elder abuse claim that kept you from visiting your mother.”

  And still, as her mother’s condition had worsened, as her bad days started to outnumber the good, Emma couldn’t fully regret her choices. Even with the generous salary and project bonuses that Max doled out, Emma had to live chastely to keep the debtors off her back. Without Charles’s Faustian bargain, her mother would never have received the top-notch care she got at her very exclusive assisted living facility—the one that had been completely booked up until Charles Whitfield had pulled some strings.

  And he’d been pulling Emma’s strings ever since. Because while her mother was alive, she’d had no choice but to dance to his commands.

  When her mother had finally found peace, Emma had thought she was free. But there again, Charles Whitfield had other ideas. He owned her, unless she wanted to destroy Max.

  “Imagine if the press found out that my son was engaging in insider trading.
I’ve got plenty of witnesses and a couple patsies all lined up to prove he’s guilty, should it come to that.”

  She’d already deceived the brilliant man who’d become her boss. Ruining him was not an option.

  Then her contract had expired.

  Finally, the leverage had disappeared. Charles couldn’t force his son to extend her contract, and she’d made damn sure that he didn’t know that Max had offered her an extension. No one had known. Though it pained her, Emma had had no choice but to give up the job she loved to save the man she respected.

  The man who had ignited a passion in her that she hadn’t known she was capable of.

  The man who had ruined her seamless escape with his high-handed orders that found her still employed.

  The man she’d betrayed.

  But it wasn’t Max’s fault. The blame lay squarely on her, though she’d tried to mitigate it as best she could. Emma had vowed to give her puppet master as little information as possible, just enough to sate him, just enough that he didn’t take anything out on her mother. And she’d been keeping meticulous records of all their interactions ever since.

  The elevator stopped on the eighth floor, both of the buffer occupants exited, leaving her alone with Charles.

  “What the hell have you done?” Emma decided to attack first, in the hope she might be able to bully, or at least surprise him into giving up his other spy. With that knowledge, she’d have leverage again. She could help Max rid his company of traitors in one fell swoop. She’d report the perpetrator of the cyber leak, and then Emma would quit for good. And this time, nothing would stop her from boarding that plane to Dubrovnik.

  Charles’s voice was cutting. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “You sent me here to do a job, and now you’re completely undermining it! Who else do you have on the inside?”

  He turned to face her, and she took an involuntary step back.

  “I don’t need anyone else, not now that our deal is back in effect.”

  “It’s not. I’m done telling you anything until you tell me who else is working for you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Ms. Mathison. Unless you want my son to find out what you’ve been doing behind his back since he hired you. And after seeing the two of you together, I suspect you don’t.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Now, what is all this nonsense about me having another spy? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Emma shook her head, trying for nonchalance. “There was some sort of incident. Now Max has Soteria installing new security measures, which will make our deal more difficult for me,” she lied, both to keep her from having to provide as much information and to figure out if Charles was part of the other leak. “I thought you might be...sourcing your information elsewhere. To someone, who unlike me, was dumb enough to get caught.”

  “Well, isn’t that interesting? My son has enemies. Powerful ones. And if he pulls off this launch, corporate espionage will be par for the course. As I told you, he’s not ready for the realities of business.”

  Emma squeezed her hands into fists, her fingernails cutting into her palms. How she itched to slap that smug grin from Charles Whitfield’s face. Luckily, she had no doubts that Max could handle himself, and whatever was thrown at him.

  “So you didn’t have someone hack...his computer?” she lied at the last second. Testing him with details, but not giving him too much.

  “Ms. Mathison, I’m going to teach you the secret of my success, so pay attention. You do not hack a tech company. Especially not one that has hired the likes of Jesse Hastings and Wes Brennan to protect it. Why do you think we communicate by telephone and meet in person? You don’t scale guarded walls, you tunnel under them.”

  The elevator door slid open, and Charles sent her a questioning glance. “Aren’t you going to walk me out?”

  She didn’t want to, but Charles made it clear that her feelings didn’t have any bearing, so she stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby.

  The older man’s smile was venomous. “Smart choice. I’d hate to have to...remind you what I could do if you’d made the wrong decision.”

  “Dad? I told you I’d meet you in the lobby.”

  Emma looked up to see Kaylee Whitfield, elegant in a gray suit and pink blouse, her dark hair pulled back in a low bun, striding toward them, a slight frown marring her brow as she took in the strange twosome they made. “Hey, Emma. Do you two know each other?”

  Emma forced a smile, but Charles jumped in with the easygoing charm she remembered from their first meeting. “Hello, Princess.” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Kaylee’s cheek. “I got here a bit early. Thought I’d head upstairs and say hi to your brother.”

  “I’m sure he was thrilled,” Kaylee said drily, obviously aware of the animosity between the Whitfield men, though her joking demeanor made Emma wonder if she knew just how deep it truly went.

  “He was rushing off to some meeting,” Charles offered smoothly, “but Emma here offered to see me out.”

  Kaylee raised an eyebrow at her father. “Yes, well, you only worked here for thirty-five years. I’m sure you’d never have made it to the lobby on your own.”

  She shot a conspiratorial smile at Emma, even as the sudden trill of a ringtone had Kaylee pulling her purse off her shoulder. “Honestly, he’s been retired for five years now, and every time we get together, all he wants to talk about is what the company’s up to,” Kaylee said, as she dug through her bag. “But at least he golfs sometimes. Max practically lives here and will definitely die at his desk, which has always struck me as excessive considering he doesn’t even draw a salary.”

  Emma’s eyes widened at the information.

  “I’m sorry,” Kaylee said holding up her cell, “but I have to take this. Thanks for helping my dad find his way out of the elevator, Em.” She turned to her father as she swiped at the screen. “The driver’s waiting for us. We should go,” she told him, bringing the phone to her ear.

  “Right behind you, Princess.”

  Charles turned toward Emma, pulling an envelope from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “On second thought,” he said and, under the guise of grabbing her hands in a farewell gesture, pressed the envelope into her grip, “Perhaps it’s best that I remind you what’s at stake here.” His fingers dug into hers, and she could smell stale coffee on his breath as he leaned close and sneered. “Feel free to keep these. I have copies.”

  She pulled her hands from his, knuckles white.

  “It was lovely to see you, Emma. As always, I look forward to working with you again.”

  Emma was practically vibrating as Charles sauntered off across the busy lobby. She turned her back on him, stepping into the next available elevator.

  Using the couple who was riding up with her as a shield from the elevator camera, she ripped into the packet, and flipped through several photocopies of surveillance photos that Charles had obviously had taken of some of their hand-off meetings. Woodenly, Emma folded them and shoved them back inside the envelope. She might be stuck in this ruse for now, but one thing was certain: she would make that vile man pay for all his sins.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MAX WAS WAITING for her when she got off the elevator. Her hand gripped the manila envelope so tightly that her fingers ached, and guilt made her stiffen when he placed a hand on her lower back and escorted her into his office. Emma could feel his eyes on her, surreptitiously searching her profile. She wished she’d taken an extra minute to pull herself together after Charles’s departure, to splash her face with cold water, to let some of the adrenaline of the encounter dissipate.

  She dropped the offensive envelope onto the visitor chair and forced some oxygen into her lungs as Max rounded his desk to hit the privacy button. Then he was in front of her, pulling her close, and the strength of his arms, the solidness of his chest, helped soothe h
er jagged nerves.

  “I thought you had a lunch meeting.”

  God, she was glad he was here.

  “They’ll wait. Are you okay? He didn’t...you’re okay, right? I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied, pressing closer, needing his body heat to dissipate the chill creeping through her veins. “It was him, wasn’t it?”

  She knew already. But she needed to hear Max say it. She needed the rage to fortify her, so she didn’t fall apart right now. “He’s the one who hit you.”

  His muscles drew tight. His breathing was shallow. “He thought I needed to toughen up.”

  Emma pressed her cheek against the hard wall of his chest. “I hate him for you.”

  Max’s hand came up to stroke her hair and she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him until the tenseness in his body receded. Until he took a deep, even breath.

  “I have to work late. Hastings wants to go over some new security precautions, and I’m booked solid this afternoon, so he’s going to swing by tonight. But Sully will drive you whenever you’re ready to go.”

  Emma leaned back, though she didn’t let go of him as she lifted her head. He slid his hands up her neck to cradle her face in his palms.

  “Before you call me out, that’s not an order, it’s a request. Tonight, I need to know you made it home safe. Okay? Can you let me have this one?”

  Home.

  Her throat was tight as she nodded. She hoped it was just unshed tears. “Okay.”

  Max pressed the softest kiss to her lips, and her eyes fluttered closed, savoring it. Letting herself pretend, just for a moment, that life wasn’t so damn complicated.

  He sighed when he pulled back. Her arms fell to her sides.

  “I need to get to this meeting.”

  “Yeah. Yes. I have a lot of work to do, too.” She forced a smile and made her way to the exit.

  “Emma.”