by Carter Blake
“My God,” I mutter, feeling completely dejected.
“Don’t give up on me yet,” Killian says, walking towards me, his expression now all business. “This is what I’m paid for. Why I was hired.”
“This place is a mess. Most of the sewing equipment is missing and the little that’s here appears to be broken. These bags, the old stock. No one wants to buy that stuff.”
“No,” he agrees. “But people will by those designs you showed me upstairs. If I get the workers back in tomorrow, get more machines, we can turn this company around.”
“My designs?” Is he serious?
“Yes. They’re good. I may not know much about fashion, but I know business. And I know what sells. I want to see more of what you have. All of it. Every design.”
“Every design?”
“Every design,” he repeats, lips twitching up.
“Okay.” I’m breathing heavy again, and not just because of the attraction between us, but because with a few words, Killian has given me hope. Hope in the company, but more importantly, hope for myself. “Thank you.”
He gives a small nod, and then I’m scurrying away, desperate to start organizing my work and to make it presentable for him.
“Where are you going?” There’s a hint of humor in his words.
“To work,” I offer over my shoulder, my head already swimming with ideas.
“What about my tour?”
I stop at the elevator. “Right. Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Even across the room I can see the twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll be needing you to work overtime for the next few weeks.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work.”
He grins and nods. “Good.”
The elevator pings and the doors open.
“Alicia,” Killian says, as I step in.
Distracted, I don’t look up at him. “Hmm?”
“I want your panties on my desk this afternoon.”
That gets my attention. My gaze jerks to his, my cheeks warming at the innuendo. “Excuse me?”
“Your designs.” He smirks. “My desk. This afternoon.”
I just stand there tongue-tied as the elevator starts to close, and I swear I hear him chuckling even after he disappears from my view.
Chapter 5
Killian
In one week I’ve hired twenty new employees to work the new, state-of-the art sewing machines I flew in from Tokyo. The budget I was given didn’t include the extra expenses, but I took the cost from the amount the company is paying me.
I don’t need the money, but it’s starting to become clear to me that Alicia needs this job. And I have every intention of making sure I help her keep it.
I keep telling myself it’s because I see her untapped talent. And that’s true. The woman is a visionary. A lingerie-genius of sorts. But it’s more than that.
Maybe it’s because I want her. That my cock aches from the moment I come into work each morning until I leave late at night. That I can’t stop fantasizing about pulling up that little skirt of hers and bending her over my desk, claiming that sweet pussy.
But this is business. And once I’m done, I’ll be gone. Off to the next city, the next state or country. Because that’s what I do – roam. Wild. Free. No one and nothing to hold me down, to stop me from tasting and enjoying all of the treats life has to offer.
And while I’d love a taste of Alicia, I know it wouldn’t end well. Office romances never do. I’d have HR breathing down my neck, or worse a lawsuit slapped on my desk.
It’s not worth the risk. No matter how tempting those curves are.
Better to find someone not connected to the company.
Leaning back in my chair, I loosen my tie and glance at the clock. It’s past eleven, and most of the employees have been gone for hours.
Not that they’re much use when they are here.
They seem to float in and out. No one seems interested in making things happen. Part of me wonders if the issue wasn’t only Cynthia, but the rest of the staff as well.
It’s time I start making more cuts to the staff. But I can’t do anything with Human Resources breathing down my neck about Cynthia’s dismissal.
She’s filed a report saying I manhandled her, which is complete and utter bullshit. She’s the one that threw half the office supplies – and a shoe – at my head. But until that gets resolved, I need to be careful who else I let go.
Not for the first time, I wonder why I still do this shit. Then I remember Alicia. Helping her rise in a company who never saw her potential will be worth it. Finding those diamonds in the roughs, and making them shine, always is.
But something tells me Alicia is going to shine brighter than any of the others. With her talent and hard work, there’s no reason that she couldn’t be running her own lingerie company in five years.
Rubbing the tense muscles in my neck, I stand and stretch.
I’ve had enough for the night. It’s late and I should’ve been gone hours ago, sipping on a bourbon in my hotel suite. But lately I haven’t been wanting to go back to my hotel. I don’t know what my problem is, but when I’m there I feel – lonely.
I turn off my office lights and start towards the elevators. There’s a faint glow at the end of the hall.
I grunt in disproval when I see the slim form that’s slouched over the corner desk, a mess of red hair draping over her shoulders.
She’s asleep, her neck bent in an awkward angle that’s sure to cause her pain if she stays like that.
“Alicia,” I say softly, not wanting to startle her.
Her eyes blink open, and for a second there’s confusion there. “Killian?”
She sits up, and it’s then that I notice the few buttons on her blouse that have come undone, exposing her black, lacy bra, and deep cleavage.
My God, but the woman has curves in all the right places. Almost instantly, I’m rock hard.
When was the last time a woman affected me so? Maybe never.
She catches my gaze, and when she looks down at her blouse, she blushes and starts to quickly do the buttons up.
“You should go home,” I say, a little to gruffly, which makes her frown.
“I was working on a new design. I must have lost track of time.” She yawns, then stands and begins to gather her things.
I try to avoid looking at her shirt, noticing that she’s done up the wrong buttons. I want to tell her that there are gaps between where she thinks she’s done it up and where she hasn’t. My eyes keep darting to it as she’s trying to tie her hair up into a bun.
I swipe my hands over my face, feeling like an adolescent with his first crush.
“Do you have a ride?” I ask, gaze drawn to her ass when she bends over to pick up her purse.
The woman is one hundred and ten percent temptation.
“I’ll just get a taxi.”
“I’ll drive you.” Bad idea. But the words are out of my mouth before I have time to think about the potential consequences. Or maybe the consequences are exactly what I want.
When she looks at me I can see the wheels spinning behind her gray eyes, and I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.
“Okay.” There’s little confidence to the word, like she’s not sure whether to accept or run in the opposite direction.
Run, little lamb, my brain begs. Run as fast as you can.
Instead, she smiles weakly, and nods towards the elevators. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” I shove my hands in my pocket and follow her.
“There’s been a change in the company since you came here,” she says softly, catching my gaze as we wait for the elevator.
“I’ve only been working here a week.” I press the elevator button and lean against the wall.
“And you’ve done more than Cynthia did in two years.”
The doors open and I can’t help but ask, “If you were so unhappy then why did you stay?”
“I asked myself that all the time.”
> She steps inside and I follow her, making sure to keep enough space between us.
“Have you always wanted to be a designer?”
She glances up at me and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and she nods.
“And you? Did you always want to be a…whatever it is you do? A manager…”
I chuckle, because it’s clear she has no idea who I really am, or what I’m worth.
“Yes.” I grin down at her. “I enjoy everything about business. When it works well, it’s a like a fine oiled machine. It’s my job to see what doesn’t work and fix it.”
“It must be hard to be constantly moving. To never have a place to call home.”
I grunt, shrugging. “It has its perks.”
Like never being anywhere long enough to get too comfortable, or worry about starting to care about anything other than the business I’m working with.
I learned the hard way that emotions are reserved for the weak. Trusting anyone other than yourself will result in one thing – betrayal.
I’ve had more than a few women try to claim me, to change me. What most people don’t know is that I was once that smuck who believed in love and commitment. That was until I walked in on my so-called best friend fucking my fiancée.
Even now the image leaves a black hole in my chest. But the pain is a good reminder that the only consistent in this world is money.
Alicia must sense my altered mood because she stops talking and looks away. There’s an uncomfortable silence between us, until the elevator stops abruptly with a sickening crunching sound.
“What was that?” There’s panic in her voice as she starts to frantically press the buttons.
There’s a jolt and we’re both thrown off balance. I reach out and grab her before she smacks into the wall.
“Shit.”
The noise of metal grinding against metal creaks around us.
“We’re stuck,” she says, panic clear in her voice.
When the lights flicker off, she lets out a small squeal.
A few moments later, the emergency lights turn on, casting an orange glow.
She’s shaking, her breathing coming out in small gasps. “Wha-what happened?”
Another jolt.
Fuck.
“We-we need to get out…” She pushes me away, and starts frantically pressing the emergency button on the panel.
The alarm sounds, but the noise only intensifies her panic.
“Hey,” I grip her shoulders and force her to look at me. “We’re only a few stories up. We’re going to be fine.”
She gives a small nod, and I see the panic starting to clear, replaced by something much more dangerous – desire.
I realize then how close I’ve gotten. Her back is against the elevator wall, my body trapping hers, the hot length of my growing erection pressed hard against her belly, my thigh wedged between hers. Shit, I can practically feel the heat of her pussy against my leg.
“Killian,” she whispers, but my name sounds more like a plea.
Fuck it.
I don’t care if it’s against the rules.
Forgetting all common sense, I lean down and crush my lips against hers.
There’s no hesitation. She accepts my kiss, my mouth, my tongue, with the same urgency I’ve been feeling since the second I laid eyes on her.
I could lose myself easily. And I just may have, if the crackling of the intercom didn’t break through my lust-induced haze.
“Is someone in there?” A gritty voice says through the speakers.
She starts to pull away, but I hold her against me.
I press the intercom button with one hand, while keeping the other one secured around her waist. “Yeah. Can you get this thing moving again?”
“Working on it right now.” More static.
Within seconds the elevator jerks and thumps, dropping quickly for a few feet before steadying out.
Alicia’s fingers fist around my shirt, and she squeezes her eyes shut.
When the elevator stops again, I know I have to let her go.
“You okay?”
She gives a small nod, but her expression is unreadable.
“Good.” I sigh as I drop my hands and take a small step back just as the doors open.
The maintenance man greets us, and I don’t miss the subtle pull at his brows as he takes in our appearance. “You two all right?”
If the office rumors hadn’t started yet, they will now.
Shit.
“We’d be better if these damn elevators worked. I want someone in here tomorrow to look at them.” I shrug off my jacket and place it over Alicia’s shoulders, covering the fact that her blouse was clearly buttoned in haste.
There’s no denying her kiss-swollen lips and tousled hair, or the fact that she looks clearly dazed, and not just from our bumpy ride.
“Yes, sir,” the man says, a small knowing grin playing on his lips.
Alicia seems stunned, like she doesn’t know what to do, so I gently place my palm on her back and lead her out of the building.
We walk in silence to my car, only breaking it when I ask her address.
It doesn’t take long for me to get to her apartment block.
I feel like a complete ass, because I can see in her eyes that she regrets what happened. Not that I blame her. She’s the one that has to work in the office when I’m gone. The one that will have to endure the rumors.
“Thanks for the lift,” she says, as she quickly releases her seatbelt and hops out of the car.
“Sure.” I want to say something more, but what can I say? Sorry, I’m a selfish ass who can’t seem to keep his cock in his pants.
Yeah, that would sum it up.
I watch her quickly make her way up the steps to her building, knowing that I’m going to have to start doing a better job staying away from her, because after that kiss, keeping my hands to myself is going to be nearly impossible.
Chapter 6
Alicia
Since the night in the elevator, it’s been clear that Killian and I don’t feel comfortable being in the same building, let alone the same room.
Everything has changed because of one stupid…and incredibly hot…soul-destroying kiss.
I sigh, wishing I could both take it back, and at the same time relive every second of it over and over again.
As I take a sip of my coffee, I glance over my shoulder, stealing a look towards the man who’s consumed my every thought for the past four days. I can see Killian and the rest of the staff through the glass windows of the boardroom. Him talking, them listening, or at least pretending to listen to whatever motivational speech he’s giving.
Normally I would be invited. But I didn’t get the memo. Or the one yesterday. Seems like I’m no longer his protégé, or whatever the hell I was before. Now that he has my designs, he doesn’t need me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to hand them all over, especially if he has plans to get rid of me like he did Cynthia.
And really, there’s nothing stopping him.
I make a mental note to add Killian Scott to my list of reasons why men suck.
“Damn,” a woman’s breathy voice says, then lets out a slow whistle. “It’s about time we had some fresh blood in this place.”
I recognize the woman as one of the new interns from down in the mailroom. She’s cute, with her dark hair cropped short in a pixie cut. And when I see where her gaze lands – on Killian – something akin to jealousy stirs inside of me.
“My God, the man is delicious.”
“Tell me about it.” Stacey from accounting pipes in, practically drooling as she gawks at Killian. “But he’s a player.”
“Really?” Pixie-cut says, brows raised as if that makes him even more appealing.
Their voices carry across the room, and it’s clear they don’t see me hidden in the corner at my workspace.
“He started messing around with Alicia the second he walked in here. Got caught by the maint
enance guy Wes, making out in the elevators.”
Humiliation creeps up my neck, burning my cheeks.
“Lucky her.”
Stacey shrugs. “Yeah, but wasn’t more than a week and he kicked her to the curb. There are rumors he’s going to fire her.”
A chill races down my spine.
“Can he do that?”
“He’s the new boss. He can do whatever he wants. If I didn’t hate her so much, I’d feel sorry for her.”
Tears burn my eyes, and I angrily blink them away.
“Still,” Pixie-cut says with a trill little laugh. “If he wants to bend me over his desk I wouldn’t say no.”
“God, you’re dirty Kelly.”
Their voices filter off as they walk in the opposite direction, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding in.
I need to get out of here. Go somewhere. I don’t know where. Just anywhere away from Killian Scott.
Standing, I grab my purse and start to make a beeline for the elevators.
But just as I’m about to make my escape, the boardroom door opens, and people swarm back into the room.
Shit.
I feel like every eye is on me. Some full of pity, some disgust, but most just stoic.
They all know, or think they know what happened between Killian and me, and now I’m the office slut.
Can this week get any worse?
Then comes the voice. The one person I’ve been avoiding.
Killian.
“Alicia,” he growls out.
God, that voice. Despite how much I hate him right now, I can’t help what it does to me.
“Yes?” And if they weren’t before, all eyes are definitely on me now.
This is exactly what Cynthia used to do. Humiliate me in front of my colleagues. I don’t know why I thought he’d be any different. Maybe being an asshole just comes with the job of being the boss.
“My office, now.”
Shit.
Head down, I ignore the whispers and follow him down the hall. Maybe this is it. The end of my misery at Love Lace.
“Sit,” he orders, pointing at the leather chair in front of his desk.
As he closes the door, I realize that we’re not alone. I frown at the skinny, twenty-something guy that sits with his laptop open on his knees, and types frantically like he doesn’t realize we’ve even walked into the room.