by Ward, Alice
Oh, god, help me.
I managed to keep my face in check by the time he got close enough. When he was standing near me, a breeze from outside wafted in, and it carried his spicy, musky amber scent. It was so intoxicating it made my knees wobbly. He smelled damn good, and I tried to breathe with my mouth in order to clear him from my head.
“Ms. Young,” he said with a curt, professional nod, even though his voice was husky and dripping with sexual innuendo.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part.
I needed to get control of my body before I wound up doing something insane, like jumping him, ripping his shirt open the rest of the way, and licking him with one long stroke of my tongue. Oh, god, that would not be good. But at the same time, I could just imagine the taste of that honey-dark skin of his, salty with sweat…
Before I could even think of an appropriate response, he’d murmured something to the maître d’, who’d nodded at us and taken off to show us to our table. Wyatt lifted his hand to me, silently urging me to lead.
The restaurant was very dim, quiet, and empty. Very romantic, dammit. And it was open, with shades instead of walls, and each was rolled up, letting the outdoors in. All the mosquito torches had to have been working overtime. The tables were cozy, with a single votive candle in the center.
That, combined with the company and a couple of fruity adult beverages would mean one thing… trouble.
We didn’t stop at just any table, though. No, the host led us to what was probably the most romantic table in the entire restaurant — a table set off from all the others, on a patio surrounded by vegetation. The torches would be the only audience to whatever went on here. I gaped at it as the host presented it but snorted a moment later.
How much had he paid to secure this little table? What a pretentious asshole.
Wyatt must’ve noticed the look on my face because he said, “I didn’t think you’d want to be disturbed for your interview.”
Right. Sure, that was the reason.
But maybe he knew that out there, I couldn’t trust myself not to…
I chewed my bottom lip. Not to what?
That provided yet another mental image that had my knees weakening.
Wiping my sweaty palms on my dress near the thighs, I smiled tightly at the host as he pulled out my chair. “How thoughtful of you, Wyatt. But honestly, this makes me uncomfortable.”
The torchlight was reflected in his eyes. “How so?”
Because if I’m alone with you, I might strip naked, climb you like a monkey in a tree, and take you up on that whole ride your face offer?
With gritted teeth, I pushed the thought away with a vengeance and sat down, pressing my legs carefully together. “I’m sure you’re used to women wanting to be alone with you. But I just met you. And it’s not my style.”
“We can go inside if you’d like.”
I’d expected another pervy remark, not for him to give up so easily and actually… gasp… be polite. He watched me expectantly, waiting for my reaction, as did the waiter. I suddenly felt like I was overreacting. I waved my hand. “Forget it.”
The waiter dropped a napkin in my lap. I expected a menu to follow, but it didn’t. He said, “Would you like something to drink?”
No fruity cocktails for me, that was for sure. Emily had given me the rundown on what might or might not be safe to consume while I was abroad, and one of the things she’d said was that tap water could be questionable. Anything in a can or bottle should be okay. I said, “Sparkling water?”
It came out as a question, and I cursed myself. I could not be indecisive around him. I’d promised myself that if he asked me anything, anything at all, I would fight it.
No. No. No. I practiced saying it in my head.
The waiter nodded and looked at Wyatt. He ordered a Guinness.
Then he leaned forward, his strong forearms, with just the right amount of manly hair, crossed on the table in front of him. “I’m really not as terrible as you think I am.”
I snorted again as the waiter said, “Your food will be out secepat mungkin.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I held up a hand. “I’m sorry. We haven’t ordered yet.”
The host’s eyes shifted to Wyatt. “Ah, well. The gentleman has already ordered.”
“Ah.” I turned to Wyatt, the frown on my face growing. Seriously? Pretentious bastard. The waiter dismissed himself, and I smiled. “You ordered for me?”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry, but since we just met, how did you know what I might like to eat?”
He shrugged, a lazy gesture that told me he didn’t actually care. “I thought you might prefer that, being that this is your first time overseas.”
I frowned at him. “Oh? And how did you know that?”
He smiled, a very lazy upturn of his mouth that caused that damn dimple to reappear. “I may have watched one or two of your videos.”
He had? Shit. I stared at him. I’d expected a man like him to have been too busy to bother. So that meant that he’d probably seen me running around my apartment in my ratty shorts and tank top, looking for my deodorant. I’d tripped over an ottoman in that one, so that was lovely. I’d wanted to edit that out, but Emily had insisted it made me relatable. “Not some stuffy lawyer they’d automatically vow to hate,” she promised.
Oh, and what about me in that dorky dolphin apron? Me pretending to make out with an eggplant, because I loved eggplant so much? And… what else?
He also… shit. He knew I didn’t have a million followers.
I did my best to bury whatever alarm was starting to dawn on my face. “And what did you think?”
His laugh was short and faintly bitter sounding. “Does it matter what I think? I’m a scumbag.”
Yeah. I had called him that. It was true, and I refused to let him make me feel guilty about it. After all, what kind of pretentious prick ordered for a woman?
And from the way he was staring at me, I got the definite feeling that he didn’t order me eggplant.
“I actually would’ve preferred to order for myself,” I said, using my best haughty bitch voice. “Or do the infamous Watts men feel the need to control everything in their lives?”
He gave me a smug smile. “That’s what scumbags do.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “So you like to control people. Makes sense why you have no moral conflict with treating people like veritable slaves on your plantations.”
He snorted. “Watts Enterprises owns no plantations. We outsource our palm oil production, and thus I have no direct control over what the plantation owners do.”
I leaned forward. “Does that pretty little lie help you sleep better in your big mansion at night?”
His eyes slid away for an instant before he recovered and stared directly at me again. Guilt? Had that been guilt?
“It’s true. It’s beyond our control.”
“Like hell it is.” I said, my voice steadily rising, my face heating. “You have the money, and I’m sure you’ve heard of the golden rule. Whoever has the gold makes the rules. All you’d have to do is tell them you’re going to walk unless they treat their employees better. Unless they produce your precious oil in a more sustainable way. But you won’t, will you?”
He shrugged. “We might.”
The arrogance of this man! “What. The. Hell?”
He held up a finger. “I didn’t say no.”
Yes, but he didn’t say yes, either. The waiter came, dropped off our drinks, and sped away, obviously not interested in getting embroiled in what was shaping up to be a nuclear war. I took a gulp of my water, but it didn’t help cool me down at all. The phrase kongkek mak kau came to mind, but I kept it at bay.
“We might isn’t good enough! You can be wishy-washy all you want, but not about this. This is our world we’re talking about, the only one we’ve got. You want it to be around for posterity, don’t you? For your children, your grandchildren?”
Hell, the heat. It was hot, and it wasn’t just the jungle or the heat from the torches. The air was so thick with humidity that you couldn’t slice it with a knife. My chest was damp with sweat. I pulled my hair up and knotted it atop my head, noticing that he wasn’t even shiny in the least.
What the… gah! Didn’t he sweat? What was he, an uncaring, unfeeling machine? All he did was smile back at me, taunting me, as the sweat poured down my temples.
“I may be rich. I may be powerful, but I can’t control everything, Atlee. And I can’t snap my fingers and make this go away.”
I crossed my arms. “Like I said. If telling yourself pretty little lies helps you sleep better at night—”
“Honestly. It doesn’t. Though my cock, inside you, would definitely help me sleep better tonight.”
I froze. I really wished I had panties because the second he said that, I felt a flood of wetness between my legs. “Um…”
He held up a hand. “But that’s clearly not something you also want. So, contrary to what you think of me, there are things I can’t control.” His gaze fell to my lips. “I can’t control you, and I can’t control what’s been done in the past or even the present until I’ve had the opportunity to do so.”
I scowled deeper. He was actually enjoying getting me riled up. He liked teasing me, making me hot. Hell, I suspected he even liked being called a scumbag, the scumbag.
I opened my mouth to tell him where he could go when I saw it. Actually, I smelled it first. Thick and heavy and sickly sweet, the smell of cooked flesh.
I gagged a little as an animal carcass was plopped in front of me. I covered my mouth with my hand in horror as I watched the bloody juices flowing out of the slab of meat, mingling with the vegetables. I let out a groan as I caught another strong whiff of it.
And across the table from me sat Wyatt, grinning from ear to ear, the scumbag. He lifted his fork and inhaled deeply. “Looks delicious, doesn’t it?”
His tone told me everything. In a flash, my disgust morphed into white-hot anger.
He started to cut into his steak, a steak so rare I thought I could still hear its distant moos, and plopped a huge piece into his mouth. I could just imagine him chewing that flesh, the little bits getting caught in his teeth. Blech. It was all too much.
“You care nothing about anything or anyone but yourself, is that it?” My voice came out as a low hiss.
He just smiled and chewed, chewed and smiled, closing his eyes as if savoring each morsel of animal flesh.
You motherfucker. I wished I knew a phrase stronger than kongkek mak kau, because right then, it fit.
My face burned from humiliation. From disgust. From abject sadness for the poor cow that had been sacrificed to fill this plate. Cool sweat popped out on my forehead. Unclenching my fists and lifting them from my lap, I stabbed the piece of meat with my fork, pulled it off the plate, and flung it at him.
If he hadn’t dodged it, the meat would have hit him square in the chest, leaving a bloody trail down his white linen shirt before falling to his lap. But that wasn’t what happened. Like some gorgeous, golden skinned ninja, he did dodge it, and it splatted on the floor with a sickening squelch.
And what did Wyatt Watts do? He simply leaned over and studied it as he chewed, rubbing his jaw. Then he grabbed his Guinness and took a big gulp.
Swallowing, he said, “That was a waste.”
“You’re a waste!” I shouted. By then, tears were pricking my eyes. I could just imagine Stapleton telling me to calm down, Brinkman saying I told you so. But I didn’t care. A poor animal had given its life so purposelessly, and all he could do was sit there from his gleaming white palace on high, not only letting the suffering continue… but contributing to it.
He studied me, still chewing, and went in, slicing off another bite. “If you say so. But I honestly don’t think you’d say that if you were riding my face.”
“This dinner is over.” I threw my napkin on the plate.
“All right. But seriously. This is one of the best cuts of meat I’ve ever had. You’re missing out.”
Then he did the worst thing he could possibly do… he laughed.
I gaped at him. Wait. Was he… laughing at me?
I looked around for something else to throw, and finding nothing worthwhile, stood up, grabbed his Guinness, and tossed it in his face.
Finally, that got his attention.
He threw down his utensils and stood as the beer dripped off his chin, running down the collar of his fancy-assed shirt. He looked down. “Fuck. Can you not take a fucking joke?”
Before I knew it, he was coming around the table, his gaze intent on me. I backed away, intending to leave, but there was a wall of bushes behind me… sharp, prickly bushes. He bore down on me, leaving me cornered with nowhere to go.
He came up close to me, not quite touching, but close enough I could smell that deliciousness of his skin, his natural maleness overpowering even the hopping scent of the beer. There was murder in his eyes. Murder, or… something else? They trailed down my body, lingering on my breasts, as if deciding what he wanted to taste first. Then, they fastened back on my own eyes.
Beer dripped down his jaw as he growled, “You’re something, you know that?”
Not a good something, that was for sure. I could barely contain my heart, which was jammed in my throat. I lifted my chin. “Do you rape more than rain forests, Mr. Watts?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What?”
But he’d clearly heard what I said. His features hardened, and he stepped away, turning his back to me. He linked his fingers behind his head and stalked to the other end of the patio.
“I’m not a monster,” he muttered, staring at the ground.
I felt everything inside me crumple. Had I really said that? Accused him of rape? Yes, he may have been a scumbag, but he wasn’t a criminal. He’d simply been making fun of me, and once again, I’d gone and let my emotions get the better of me. It was the reason I was here to begin with. It was the reason I was always screwing things up.
But I was tired. So tired.
I put my hands to my face just as the tears started to flow down my cheeks, wetting my lenses.
Oh, hell, this was not what I needed right then. To fall like a house of cards in front of a man who’d laugh at me for being too sensitive.
I stifled a sob, but he heard it. He whirled.
Something in his gaze softened.
He lowered his hands, strode over to me, and put an arm around my shoulders.
No, of course he wasn’t a monster. He was simply a misguided man… who smelled delicious, like something I could happily drown in. I didn’t agree with him on a lot of things, but for some reason I couldn’t comprehend, I trusted that he wouldn’t hurt me.
I let him pull me in, and I rested my head on his strong chest.
He smoothed my hair and whispered, “If I scared you, or took things too far, that wasn’t my intention.”
I closed my eyes. It was stupid to be scared of him. He was just a man, and one who loved to play games. It wasn’t anything I should be afraid of. “I’m not scared.”
But I was. He was the enemy. And I was in his arms, with no place else I’d rather be.
Which was wrong.
We separated when the waiter appeared, surveying the table, which looked more like a crime scene at this point. He let out what had to have been a curse in Malay.
Wyatt cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. We had a… mishap.” He glanced at me. “But dinner was wonderful.”
Well, that was one word for it.
He pulled out a stack of purple banknotes that I recognized as the ringgit, official Malaysian currency, and handed them to the waiter. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
The waiter looked at the stack and practically jumped in excitement, then began bowing effusively. It had to have been a very good tip. “Can I get you anything else?”
Wyatt held up a hand, his eyes still on me. “No, thank you.”
The waiter filled his arms with our plates and left us alone.
Now, what?
Pushing my glasses to the top of my head, I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. The tears had dried, thank god. I supposed it was time to conduct my interview, which was why I’d come here. But really, I wanted something vastly different.
I wanted his arms around me again.
His eyes raked up my body. “Come to my room.”
It was more like a command, not a question.
Warning bells were going on all over, but I couldn’t help the lurch of excitement that punched me low in my belly.
My mouth said, “What?” but every other part of my body was already saying yes. “I don’t think I’m in any condition to do an, um, interview right now.”
He stepped closer, those eyes boring into mine.
“Not for the interview. Look…” he said, lifting a lock of loose hair off my collarbone and working it through his fingers. “I want to show you I’m not a complete bastard. I want to show you my plans for the factory here. The reason I came here, the reason I attended the summit in the first place.” He licked his lips, and I could swear I felt the movement on my skin. “I know I’ve been giving you hell and being wildly inappropriate so I can live up to your scumbag fantasies about me, but I’m here for a real purpose and that purpose is to change the way Watts Enterprises does business.”
I stared at him. Was he serious?
It may have been a lie. It was probably a lie. It sounded too good to be true.
He was lying. He was a liar.
He didn’t care about anything but himself.
Except… his eyes looked so honest, so earnest.
“Please…”
I felt the breath of the word on my face as he moved even closer. I stopped hearing and started feeling. My eyes trailed to his fingers, which were still twirling my hair, and I shivered in the damp heat. It was like his mouth was betraying him too, speaking about other things, when every other part of his body was screaming the same song as mine: I want you.
He took my hand, his fingers entwining with mine. “Let me show you.”
The heat between us flamed even hotter, and I had no choice but to let my body lead the way.