“I don’t think you have any worries on that account,” Madison said. Her smile was strange. “Can you come with me, please?”
Annette stood up. Her stomach sank. She was convinced that somehow Madison had found out about the night she’d spent with Clifford in Montreal. Despite her boss’ assurances, Annette knew their time together was totally unprofessional. She followed Madison down the hallway to Clifford’s office, certain that she was going to be dismissed from her position.
If that happened, Annette knew she couldn’t go back to Feigenbaum’s. They would never forgive her for disgracing the house’s good name.
What a stupid, stupid thing to do, Annette chastised herself. She had no illusion that Clifford seriously wanted to have a relationship with her. The night in Montreal was just a fluke, a one-off that never should have happened. Since they’d gotten back to the States, her boss had been friendly but distant: Madison had kept him extremely busy working on some kind of merger project.
Madison pushed Clifford’s door open without knocking. Clifford was sitting at his desk, reading through a pile of documents.
“Hey, what’s up?” he said. His smile broadened when he saw Annette. “Good morning!”
“It is a good morning,” Madison said. “It’s a great morning, in fact.”
“What’s so great about it?” Clifford asked.
“Guess who I just got off the phone with?”
“Who?”
“Shauna Murphy.” The name meant nothing to Annette, but it clearly did to Clifford. He cocked his head, clearly curious.
“Really.”
Madison nodded. “And do you know what she told me?”
“Wilbur bought the Carrington.”
Madison’s smile got wider. “That he did.”
“And…” Clifford glanced at Annette. “It’s a fake?”
“Yes, it is.” Madison spun on her heel. “You get a high five, girl!” She put her hand up in the air, meeting a startled Annette’s palm with a smack. “That’s twelve million dollars you saved us.”
“I knew it!” Annette exclaimed. Her voice came out a little louder than she’d meant it to, but she was too excited to care. “The way Max’s arms were in the drawing – they just looked wrong.”
“Wilbur’s not admitting anything, of course,” Madison said. “But according to Shauna, he’s furious.” She stared at Clifford for a long moment. “Apparently, he sent some associates to talk to Rene about exactly where the sketch came from.”
“I thought he knew the family,” Clifford said. “The ones who’d inherited the entire collection.”
“There is a family, and there is a collection,” Madison said. “But apparently Rene enhanced the collection with a few pieces of his own.”
“That’s why he was so sketchy when I questioned him about the provenance,” Annette said. “I thought he just didn’t like me.”
“Well, you weren’t there for him to like you,” Madison said. “You were there to do exactly what you did. Wilbur’s associates discovered that the Carrington came from one Hans Grüber.”
“You are kidding me,” Clifford said.
“I’m not,” Madison said. “The same man who burned you with the fake Magritte sold this sketch to Rene for two million.” She shrugged. “Apparently he needed some cash money in a hurry.”
“This is the part where you tell me Hans has been arrested, and we’re going to recover that twenty-two million, right?” Clifford asked.
“Sadly, no.” Madison’s smile faded. “This is the part where I tell you that Wilbur’s associates can’t find Hans anywhere.”
“Has he gone to the police?”
“You know Wilbur’s not going to go to the cops with this,” Madison replied. “Especially after all those comments he made to the media after you got burned.”
Clifford snorted. “I shouldn’t find that funny.” He laughed. “But I guess I do.”
“I’d rather have you laughing than crying,” Madison said. She turned to Annette. “Good job. There’s going to be a nice little bonus in your pay this week. Our way of saying thank you.”
“Thank you,” said Annette. “I mean, it’s not necessary – that is why I’m here, after all. But thank you.”
“It’s totally necessary!” Clifford said. He stood up behind his desk. “When I think about what a hard time you gave me when you told me no…you know I thought about going back and telling Rene I would take the sketch…”
Madison and Annette looked at each other. “I’m glad you didn’t,” Annette said.
“I’m not used to anyone second-guessing my decisions,” Clifford admitted. “No is not my favorite word.”
“It should be,” Madison said. “That no saved you twelve million.”
“He was asking me for ten,” Clifford protested. “And I probably would have gotten him down to nine.”
Annette burst out laughing. “Saving that three million wouldn’t have made you any happier when it turned out to be a phony.”
Madison laughed. “You don’t know Clifford very well, do you?” She shook her head. “If Wilbur Ross pays $50 for a pound of dog shit, Clifford will find someone to sell him dog shit for 25.”
Clifford blushed. “I’m not that bad,” he protested.
“Yes you are,” Madison said. “But this time, thanks to somebody’s wonderful plan…”
“Yes, yes, you were right.” Clifford looked at Annette and smiled. “Bringing you on board was one of the best decisions we ever made. We should go out and celebrate.”
“Now?” Annette looked at her watch. “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning.”
Clifford waved his hand. “That doesn’t matter. Madison, why don’t you book us a table for three?”
“Where did you want to go?” Madison had her phone out already.
“Tom’s place would be fine,” Clifford said. “Say in an hour or two?”
“All right,” Madison replied. Her eyebrow furrowed as she looked at her phone. “But it looks like it’s going to be the two of you. My Mama’s telling me I need to get my butt over there.” She sighed and looked at Clifford. “I swear; I can’t tell which one of you is a bigger pain in my ass.”
“Oh, definitely me.” Clifford said. “I’m sure of that.”
“If you say so.” Madison turned to Annette. “If you’ve got anything scheduled for the rest of the day, you’ll need to cancel. The food at Per Se is amazing, but it takes forever to get through a meal.”
“You’re going to love it here,” Clifford said, leading Annette to the big blue door in front of Per Se. “Tom is an absolute genius in the kitchen. In a twenty-course meal, you’ll never see the same ingredient twice.”
“Twenty courses!” Annette exclaimed. “I’m not sure I can eat that much.”
“Don’t worry,” Clifford said. “I had Madison tell him I’d want something a little simpler. And plenty of champagne.” He bent down and gave Annette a quick kiss – just enough to start her heart racing. “After all, we have your triumph to celebrate.”
“Our triumph,” Annette said. “After all, you should be congratulated for listening to me.” She mock-punched Clifford in the arm. “Especially considering how much you didn’t want to.”
The food at Per Se looked like tiny jewels, Annette thought. She was facing a plate full of small cubes. One was vivid orange, another brilliantly red.
“The red is beets,” Clifford said. “They taste much better than they have any right to.” He ate one off of his own plate, encouraging her to do the same.
Annette tried one, following it quickly with a gulp of champagne. “They’re not bad,” she said diplomatically.
Clifford laughed. “You don’t have to eat anything you don’t want to,” he said. “This is your celebration. You really saved me from making another mistake.”
“What gets me is that it’s the same painter creating these forgeries,” Annette said. “It has to be.”
Clifford shrugged. “I really
didn’t see the similarity between the two pieces, even after you pointed it out.”
“It’s right there, like the nose on your face,” Annette said. The champagne was delicious, and no matter how much of it she had, her glass never seemed to get empty. “I don’t know how you didn’t see it.”
“Well, to be fair,” Clifford countered, “I don’t really see the nose on my face unless I’m looking in the mirror.”
“I can see my nose,” Annette proclaimed. She crossed her eyes just enough to look at her nose. “It’s right there.”
Clifford smiled. “And what a beautiful nose it is.”
“What’s this stuff?” Annette said, poking at the next plate presented to her. “Not more beets, I hope.”
“This is a Salmon Tartare, Madame.” The waiter said, stiffly.
Clifford waved him off. “It’s fish, darling. Very yummy.”
Annette took a bite. “Oh, this is good,” she said. “There’s only one thing that could make this better.”
“And what’s that?” Clifford asked, indulgently.
“If it were chocolates. Chocolate is always better than fish.” She hiccupped. “Oh, Clifford. I think I’m a little drunk.”
“A little, yes.” He smiled. “But you deserve it. You saved the day.”
Annette got to her feet. “This is all wonderful stuff. But I think I’ve had enough.” A waiter refilled her champagne glass. She drank a third of it in a swallow. “Except for champagne. There is never enough champagne.”
“Let me take you home,” Clifford moved closer, steadying Annette on her feet.
“Will we have more champagne?” she asked.
Clifford guided her toward the door. “You can have anything you want,” he growled softly in Annette’s ear. Their bodies were pressed so tightly together that Annette could feel Clifford’s heartbeat in her chest. His pulse was racing almost as fast as her own.
She tipped her head up for another kiss. Clifford’s lips tasted of champagne. The sidewalk was uncertain beneath her feet; Annette wobbled on her heels. “All right,” she said. “But I’ve got to warn you, my place is a disaster…”
Clifford laughed gently. “We’ll go to my place then.”
She nodded and fell against him, breathing in his scent. Clifford squeezed her tightly, letting one hand slide over her ass. With his free hand, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“What’re you doing?” Annette asked.
“Telling Alex to come pick us up,” Clifford replied. “I’m in no shape to drive.” He kissed Annette again. “Especially when there are much better ways to occupy my time.”
Annette blushed. The idea of the driver watching the view in the rear view mirror as Clifford touched her body was unexpectedly exciting; she could feel her nipples stiffening against her blouse.
“All right.” Her hand brushed against the front of Clifford’s trousers. His desire was evident. “But how in the world will we spend our time until he arrives?”
Clifford took half a step backward, introducing a little distance between their bodies. “With a little discretion.” He kissed her nose. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to wait long to get what you want.”
Alex arrived driving the black town car, pulling to the curb directly in front of Clifford and Annette. Clifford opened the back door, ushering Annette inside. She slid across the leather seats, heels dragging over the carpeted floor.
Clifford joined her, shutting the door behind him. Annette expected him to speak to Alex, but he didn’t, not a word. All of the billionaire’s attention was focused on her.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, slipping a hand under Annette’s and letting his fingers curl gently over the back of her neck. The contact made her moan; when he squeezed, she bit her lower lip.
“That’s nice,” he said. Clifford put his other hand on Annette’s knee, sliding slowly upward under her blue skirt. “I can’t wait to feel your body.”
Annette looked up briefly at the rear view mirror to see if Alex was watching. Clifford caught the flash of her eyes. He smiled and moved to beginning unbuttoning Annette’s blouse.
“Stop,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t want me to stop,” Clifford said. He’d undone three of her buttons by this point, pushing the silky fabric aside to reveal her lace-covered bra. “Do you?”
He kissed the side of her neck, biting just a little. Annette groaned. “No,” she admitted. “I don’t.”
Clifford finished unbuttoning her blouse. It slipped off of her shoulders, sliding down her back to puddle in the seat.
She shivered as the cooled air washed over her newly exposed skin.
“You cold?” Clifford asked.
“A little,” she murmured.
He deftly unhooked her bra. “I’ll get you warmed up.” He bent and kissed her nipple, gently sucking the tender bit of flesh between his lips. “Is that helping?”
“It’s definitely a good start,” Annette groaned. Her fingers slid through Clifford’s blond hair, pulling him closer against her. He responded by increasing his attentions, sucking and squeezing her breast.
Annette sank back onto the leather seat, bringing Clifford into position over her. For a moment, from the look in his eyes, she though he was going to beginning making love to her right then and there.
But then he glanced up through the window. “Oh, good,” he murmured. “We’re almost home.”
Annette squirmed upright, just in time to see that Alex had driven the car onto a ferry boat. “Where are we going?” she said.
“I have a home on Staten Island,” he said. “It’s my favorite. It’s cozy and very private.”
“Oh,” Annette said, moments before his lips touched hers again. “That sounds wonderful.”
Clifford’s Staten Island home looked like a classic Italian villa, with a marble façade and a pair of columns flanking the front door.
“They’re never going to let me in this place,” Annette giggled. “It’s much too fancy.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clifford laughed. “I know the owner.”
Alex pulled the car to a silent stop. Annette reached for her blouse, but Clifford stopped her. “Don’t,” he said. “You look perfect just the way you are.”
“But…” Annette looked toward the front seat. Alex never turned around. He gave no indication that he saw or heard anything.
“Trust me,” Clifford said. “You’re too beautiful to cover up.” He opened his car door and stepped out, reaching one hand back to help Annette out of the back seat.
She took his hand, but hesitated before stepping out of the car. It was late, and surely there was no one around at this hour, but she was half-naked. To go outdoors this way, into the night…
“Annette,” Clifford said. His voice was calm and commanding. “Let’s go inside.”
She stepped out of the car, unsteady on her heels. “Look at you,” Clifford said, still holding her hand. “You’re truly exquisite.” He led her toward the door.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said. “What does a guy like you even see in a girl like me?”
“You’re beautiful,” Clifford replied. “And you’re smart. And funny. And you have an ass that would make a dead man stand up and clap.”
Annette craned her head around to regard her bottom as best she could. “Really?”
“Really.” Clifford pushed the door open to a bedroom. There was a heavy cherry wood bed and mirrors all along one wall. “Let me show you.” Moving slowly and deliberately, Clifford removed the rest of Annette’s clothing until she stood naked in front of her reflection. “You’re a piece of art.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Stanhope.” Annette started unbuttoning Clifford’s shirt. “I want to see you in the mirror too.”
“We can do that,” he said, deftly unbuckling his belt buckle. It only took Clifford the blink of an eye to shed his clothing. Naked, he was magnificent. Annette took a lo
ng moment studying her lover’s reflection in the mirror. He had a broad, muscled chest and arms like a sculpture. Lower down, the size and prominence of his need was very impressive.
“Wow,” she said, reaching out toward the reflection. “Look at you.”
He gently grabbed her hand and brought it toward his flesh. “Touching is better than looking.”
And it was. Annette discovered that Clifford made the most amazing noises with every touch. A stroke made him moan; a squeeze caused his whole body to shudder.
“Lay down on your bed,” she said. “I want to get on top of you.”
He did so quickly, with his arms folded behind his head. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,” Annette said. Her fears after their encounter in Montreal had completely faded away; all that remained in Annette in that moment was desire.
Climbing on top of Clifford was exquisite; feeling herself being filled completely up as she settled down on his length was even better. Clifford closed his eyes.
“This feels so good,” he said.
Annette let her hands rest on his chest as she moved her hips back and forth slowly. “You feel good,” she purred. “You feel absolutely amazing.”
They rocked together for a long moment before Clifford grew impatient. He wrapped one arm around Annette’s waist and then pivoted, pinning her beneath him. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’ve got to be all the way in you now.”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Clifford’s thrusts came faster and faster. Annette closed her eyes, wrapping her legs around his waist and just hanging on for all she was worth. All at once, Clifford gave a great bellow. She felt his need flooding through her, moments before her own pleasure erupted.
“Oh, God, yes,” she said, pulling Clifford close to her. “This is perfect.”
Chapter 10
“How do you like your coffee?” Clifford asked.
Annette blinked. The sun was coming up. Bright rays angled across the room, giving Annette her first real look at Clifford’s bedroom. Beyond the bed, where they’d made a rumpled mess of the bedclothes, there was a long, low black trunk. On the far wall was a chest of drawers topped with a round mirror. Next to that was a wide armchair with a stack of books beside it.
Romance: Pummel Me: A Boxing Romance Page 42