Shameless Surrender

by Jaymie Holland

  Well.

  He wanted to know the unobtainable Miss Lane much more than that. He was done with her inadvertent teasing.

  He realized he was smiling as he loosened his tie.

  If he got a yes—and he intended to get that very word, as soon as possible—Miss Lane was about to pay her debt for three years of teasing, torturing, and generally ruining him for any other woman, intentional or not.

  Chapter Two

  “Girl, you’ve got to get over Tarantino.” Andi braced one hand on the conference room door as she watched Chessie prepare the room for Nick’s last presentation. “That or proposition him.”

  Chessie turned her gaze away from the friend who had gotten her this job. She made sure the three monitors at the front of the room synced with Nick’s iPad. She had spent the last hour putting his notes into a PowerPoint presentation.

  Her eyes glazed and her heart grew heavier yet. “You sound like Bryn.”

  “That’s because Bryn’s smart,” Andi said. “About everything other than Charles Johannsen.”

  “No kidding,” Chessie mumbled as she looked at Andi again. Then, she sighed. “Three years, Andi.” She fidgeted with the top button at the throat of her blouse and stared down at the tablet. “I go blank every time Nick is even a little bit close to me.”

  “Well, honey, it’s better than throwing yourself at his feet and begging him to take you right on the Berber carpeting in his office.” Chessie cast her friend a glance as Andi continued, “Although that certainly would catch his attention.” Chessie rolled her eyes and Andi said, “Or, you could just ask him out for a drink. That’s what I would do.”

  The tablet connected with the monitors and Chessie cut her gaze back to Andi. “You’ve got guts. I’m just a wimp, no question about it. You know I always have been.”

  Andi shook her head, her long black hair drifting over her shoulders like a silken curtain. “Chessie, quit listening to that mother-voice in the back of your mind. God love the woman, she means well—but she’s wrong about you, and wrong about life. You’re hot. You’re young. You’re smart. And you’ve got to stop playing it safe and take chances. Live, girlfriend. I’ve been telling you that since we were in college.”

  “I’m not you.” Chessie gripped the iPad as she moved past Andi out of the conference room and toward her desk.

  “Do it,” Andi shot back as she rounded her cubicle and vanished from sight just as Chessie almost smacked into Constance Baron, Vice President of Communications and resident Bitch Queen From Hell.

  Constance smirked and raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Chessie.

  Chessie’s skin went cold and she gripped the tablet even tighter. She glanced in the direction Andi had gone, wishing her friend would come back—though Andi wasn’t high enough up the food chain to really challenge the Bitch Queen.

  “You’re still at it, aren’t you?” Constance’s tone was laughing and vicious, and it cut deep as Chessie moved to her desk, putting it between her and BQ like a shield. “Still pining for the boss, like some sick 1950s cartoon character.” Constance shook her head.

  Chessie’s cheeks burned as she put down the tablet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, I think you do.” Constance laughed, a fake cultured laugh that grated on each one of Chessie’s jangling nerves. The woman propped a perfectly manicured hand on her perfectly slim hip. “Honey, you have to know. Nick Tarantino would never waste his time with somebody like you.”

  A thousand retorts ran through Chessie’s mind, all at once, falling on top of one another. That just made the heat in her face all the worse. Because she couldn’t say any of them. Even if she didn’t care about keeping her job, she wouldn’t have the guts to face off with a woman like Constance.

  It made her stomach churn.

  It sort of made her hate herself.

  No doubt smelling blood, Constance plowed ahead, “After all this time, I’d think you would have realized the last person he would be interested in is his admin assistant. All these years, you’ve made it only too obvious that you want him. And he’s been gentleman enough to ignore it—to make it just as obvious he wants nothing to do with the office help. Except maybe a fast fuck if you do throw yourself at him. So go on. Why don’t you try it and get it out of your system?”

  Chessie’s face reached inferno levels as she realized Constance must have been listening outside the conference room. “Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Baron?”

  The woman brushed a piece of imaginary lint from the sleeve of her perfectly tailored black suit. “Sure. How about this for starters. Don’t waste any more of the company’s time, or Nick’s time, making a fool out of yourself. Do your job and stay where you belong—behind your desk, typing up minutes. It’s what you’re good for. Try to keep that in mind?”

  The Bitch Queen of West L.A. turned and strode down the hall, presumably toward her own elegant office.

  As soon as she was out of earshot, Chessie plopped into her seat and hummed the Wicked Witch theme from Wizard of Oz.

  Bitch, bitch, bitch!

  She moved her gaze to Nick Tarantino’s office.

  Later he would leave, taking her heart with him.

  Sometime next week, the movers would bring Derrick’s belongings into the luxurious office and she would officially become his assistant.

  How was she going to do that?

  How could she face getting up and coming to work, knowing Tarantino was gone?

  Nick. My Nick. If only in my dreams…

  Chessie glanced down at the iPad and let out her breath. A calendar reminder popped up on the screen. She kept Nick’s schedule, but this was for an appointment she didn’t remember adding or seeing before.

  She touched the screen with a stylus and opened the reminder for that day.

  C.S. 7:00pm.

  Nick must have set up something for later tonight. Her stomach cramped. His first appointment without her entering it into the schedule.

  Her shoulders sagged and she opened the app Nick used to store information and ideas. It was her job to make sense of some of the stuff he entered, typing out his scribbles into e-folders and organizing them so he had easy access to the information when needed.

  Before he left, she’d be turning the tablet over to him permanently. She started to put the device down when a recent notebook in the app caught her attention.

  C.S.

  Chessie’s throat worked. Did this have anything to do with the appointment on his calendar?

  Why did it matter?

  She touched the stylus to the notebook and it opened to show several notes…with pictures.

  Chessie opened a note and her heart beat faster when she saw several pictures taken that had elegant backgrounds.

  A beautiful woman knelt before a fireplace, hands cuffed behind her back, and she wore a red corset and a matching thong. Adoration in her eyes, she stared up at a man in leather pants. The bare-chested man held a riding crop.

  Is he going to whip her? Why doesn’t she look scared?

  A tingle started between Chessie’s thighs. The scene looked hot—way hot.

  In the next photo, a woman wearing nothing more than black garters and nylons was bent over a leather sawhorse, her ass in the air. Her ass cheeks were red. A man wearing a black muscle shirt and pants stood over her, paddle raised.

  Oh, God.

  Chessie’s nipples ached and she grew wetter.

  She shot her gaze around her, afraid someone would see what she was staring at.

  Alone. Thank God.

  Why did a picture of a woman being paddled make her so horny she’d die to be fucked right now?

  Chessie scrolled down to a third picture and her breath stuck in her throat. In this one, a woman stood on tiptoes, wrists bound and high overhead. Chains hanging from the ceiling secured her.

  The woman wore only panties and a skimpy bra that looked as if it might slip at any moment. A man stood behind her, holding a
black scarf, as if about to blindfold the woman.

  Submissive, whispered in Chessie’s mind as she stared at the photo. And he’s a Dom.

  She’d heard those terms, but she hadn’t actually seen photos.

  Until now. And God, but it turned her on. She wasn’t sure she could breathe, much less have a coherent thought.

  Then a fourth photo—another woman strapped to a big X and splayed wide.

  Chessie’s jaw dropped.

  This woman had nothing on at all. Nothing but clamps on her nipples.

  Chessie almost held her hands over her own breasts as she imagined what that must feel like.

  Why was she thinking about clamps on her nipples? She’d never let a man put them on her.

  Or would I…

  The man who stood in front of this woman was way past built and powerful-looking. And clearly aroused, from the look of the ridge behind his zipper.

  He held a bullwhip. The woman didn’t appear to be the least bit frightened. She looked like she wanted him to use it.

  That’s crazy.

  Chessie shook her head. Why would anyone want to be whipped?

  Yet the scene was so damned hot.

  Voices.

  Her face burned as she quickly locked the screen and looked up. Derrick and Constance entered the conference room Chessie had prepared for Nick’s presentation.

  Damn. That meant Nick would need the iPad.

  And he was leaving his office at that very moment.

  Her pulse raced, her breathing coming faster. She couldn’t move fast enough.

  She punched in the four-number passcode, exited the app’s notebook she’d looked at, one she’d had no business being in. She brought up the presentation notes before she closed out the app.

  Chessie opened the PowerPoint for Nick’s presentation just as he reached her desk.

  Even as she closed it, she realized the ‘C.S.’ file would show as recently opened, so he would know she had seen it.

  Her face burned. Could he read on her features what she’d just seen? Could she get the tablet back after the presentation?

  She handed him the iPad. His fingers brushed hers and her eyes widened at the contact that sent a charge through her. He showed nothing on his features.

  Of course not. Why would he feel anything for me?

  Chessie tried to keep her voice steady as he took the tablet. “The presentation and the conference room are ready, Mr. Tarantino.”

  He gave a nod. “Thank you, Miss Lane.”

  “It’s been a pleasure serving you. I—” She faltered, wanting to say, ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  He gazed at her so steadily, as though he was waiting for her to come out with something. A request. A secret.

  I want you.

  I wish I had asked more about you, about your life.

  If only you noticed me like I noticed you. Just once. Any hint. And I might have—

  Ah, who was she kidding. She wasn’t like Bryn, or her other best friends, Andi and Sydney. Bryn and Andi were the strong ones out of the four. The lions. Sydney was a fox. Chessie was just a mouse.

  A mouse being stared at by a gorgeous Italian god.

  “I wish you well in your future endeavors,” she said, each word stumbling over the last. Her cheeks went hotter at the lameness of her words and how stupid she sounded.

  God, she was pitiful.

  A flicker of something crossed Nick’s features and he gave a slow nod. “It has certainly been a pleasure, Chessie.” He paused, those eyes never letting hers go. “You have been a most…efficient assistant.”

  Chessie’s heart plummeted and she attempted to keep her voice steady. “Thank you, Mr. Tarantino.”

  Nick didn’t even grace her with one of his rare smiles. He simply turned away and strode into the conference room before pausing to glance back at her, a question in his gaze.

  If he wanted some kind of answer, she had no idea what he was asking.

  Nothing, Chessie. He’s just wondering why you’re acting weird.

  He looked away and entered the conference room, then closed the door behind him.

  And he was gone. Just like that.

  * * * *

  An hour later, Nick exited the conference room with Constance and Derrick. Constance tossed a condescending look at Chessie before heading toward her office.

  Nick and Derrick walked by Chessie’s desk and both laughed as if over some kind of joke.

  Derrick split off and strode toward the exit.

  Chessie almost couldn’t breathe as Nick glanced at her. He held the tablet in his hand and her stomach tumbled as she thought about the erotic pictures she’d seen there. She wanted to ask for the tablet back so she could erase her tracks, but she didn’t see how.

  Did he already know she’d seen them? Had he planned for her to see them?

  He had to have known it would be a possibility.

  Why would he do that, girl? Maybe it had something to do with research. He could be writing a book on…what?

  He waited a moment before he gave a single nod to her, then entered his office, likely for the last time.

  Her eyes started to well up.

  Damn!

  She had to get out of there before she actually cried in front of him and everyone else in the office.

  Chessie gathered herself and took several deep breaths.

  Maybe he had intended for her to see those images.

  She should go into his office and ask him out for a drink.

  The Bitch Queen’s cruel words burned in her ears and she longed for a Q-tip to clean them right out. Just thinking about them made her want to scream. She should use that anger to fire up her courage.

  Bryn and Andi were right. She would ask Nick. At least try to talk to him. It wouldn’t hurt a damn bit to ask him out for a drink. They’d been co-workers and friends long enough she could simply say she’d like to get together for a farewell drink. Then, if she got lucky, if it led to more…

  Chessie started to push her chair back then stopped herself.

  She would do it later. She had his personal cell and his home numbers.

  She should talk to him now—before nerves and self-doubt got the better of her.

  Just as she got to her feet, she spotted something propped up against a picture of her and her friends.

  How did that get there?

  It was an envelope with Chessie embossed in gold across the creamy white surface.

  What the—?

  Barely aware of what she was doing, she dropped back into her chair and picked up the envelope. It was thick and heavy, the stationery clearly expensive. Curiosity filled her as she turned it over. Red wax sealed the envelope, with a crest she didn’t recognize. She broke the seal, slowly opened the envelope, and pulled out a single sheet of paper of the same heavy stationery. The paper was folded in half and when she opened it, her heart began to pound.

  Across the white surface a single gold-embossed word stood out—

  Tonight.

  Chapter Three

  “Are you serious?” Bryn all but squealed over the Bluetooth connection in Chessie’s car. “It has to be from him.”

  “Yep,” Andi agreed from her end of the three-way call.

  Sydney hadn’t answered her phone, so no fourth was on the line.

  “I don’t know,” Chessie said. “I just—I can’t even.” Chessie’s mind raced and her pulse pounded in her ears. She was barely able to keep her attention on the traffic and navigating her very-used Prius in her own lane. “It may be nothing to get excited over. It might be nothing at all.”

  “Or,” Bryn said. “It might be everything.”

  Andi’s rich laugh filled the speakers. “It’s definitely something, sweetie. It’s something named Nick Tarantino. You better go get dressed.”

  Brilliant Los Angeles summer sunshine glinted off the car’s hood and she was glad of her sunglasses as she guided her car into her neighborhood. “You two are crazy. I’ll talk t
o you girls later.”

  “You’ve gotta tell us all about it first thing in the morning,” Bryn said.

  “I’ll be leaving for the club at six for my Taekwondo workout,” Andi said. “I expect a call eight sharp.”

  “Right.” Chessie turned the wheel and rounded the corner. “See you.”

  She disconnected the call before her friends could try to convince her to do something totally out of character.

  Where was Sydney? Chessie hadn’t seen the fourth member of their exclusive little group for at least two weeks. But then Sydney did travel a lot for her job and it wasn’t unusual for there to be radio silence between them.

  The quartet had known one another what seemed like forever. They had come from such different walks of life, yet still crossed paths. They’d bonded so tightly that they’d never let life get in the way of their friendship.

  Chessie was the ‘cute’ shy one, Sydney a quiet beauty, Bryn vivacious and outgoing, while the stunning Andi took charge of everything.

  When Chessie reached her home, she parked in the garage, and snatched her purse off the passenger seat. She lowered the garage door and tossed her sunglasses into her purse before slowly walking into the small house.

  That invite is probably nothing, her calm, rational mind kept telling her. For real. It’s not from Nick. It’s just some joke.

  The door banged shut behind her and she faced the tiny but cozy living room.

  Tonight.

  How was she supposed to know what was going on? That one word told her nothing. Her home could blow up tonight, or some guy could show up on her doorstep tonight.

  Chessie inhaled deeply and tried to ground herself in reality.

  In reality, the invitation is some kind of joke. The next thought deflated her. “It might even be Bitch Queen setting me up for major disappointment. Bet she’s laughing her ass off.”

  Yet…