by Paige North
Now he’s back to looking amused. “I guess you’re onto me.”
If only.
He leads me into the elevator, and as we descend, he leans against the black-tiled wall. I catch him giving me an approving, lustful look, and I warm right up again.
“You wear that well, Karini,” he says.
“Not too much wrapping?”
“Oh, I like the wrapping. It only means I get to unwrap you again.”
Hoo-boy. I try not to flush under his compliment, to take it with grace, even though it’s always been hard for me to do that with anyone.
“Thank you, Cage,” I make myself say.
His raises both eyebrows now. “’Cage,’ is it?”
“Should I call you ‘Mr. Bryant’? Especially in public?” I’m not actually bantering. I mean it.
He seems to turn that over in his mind.
“Did you plan on taking me out in public?” I ask. “Or is this a whim?”
After all, he did hire me on impulse.
He stands away from the wall, his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t plan anything about this…except for that closet full of clothing.”
Huh. I think I threw him a curveball with my questions, and it makes me happy that I can play in his league—at least in this way. He probably doesn’t get many curveballs from people. In fact, I get the feeling it’s even refreshing for him.
He gives me a sidelong look, then graces me with a naughty smile. “You really do look gorgeous.”
My body is just beginning the familiar process of steaming up when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Needing to cool it, I head out. I still don’t know how to react to all his compliments. I wish I’d learned how to do that even before today though. If I had, I might not be in such trouble back in the real world…
His long, slow strides allow him to catch him up to me as we emerge onto the city sidewalk. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you can’t take flattery, Karini. Surely I’m wrong.”
I don’t want to talk about the awkwardness I thought I’d grown out of before realizing I’d never left it behind. I’d rather trade light jokes with him, tease him a little so that he isn’t always so serious. Have him tease me.
Traffic rolls past us, the thin squeal of brakes echoing off the high buildings, the slight humidity surrounding me. Storefronts beckon with windows showcasing trendy clothing and high-end restaurants.
“So,” I say, changing the subject at breakneck speed. “Where’re we going?”
I know he knows that I’ve shifted gears, and he drops the topic. And why not? We’re hardly working on a relationship here.
“What’s your stance on ice cream?” He’s still got his hands tucked into his pockets while controlling the pace of our walk. I don’t know how he looks so cool, even during summer.
“Hmm, ice cream,” I say. “My stance is that I like it.”
He laughs, more relaxed than usual. Some of his thick brown hair even waves in the breeze coming from the passing cars. “How would you like to get some right now?”
“Ice cream is good any time. Any time is ice cream time.” Giddy because this day is going so well, I grin at him, but then frown. “I’m not sure you’re the ice cream type though.”
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t seem like the kind of person who’s in to pastel flavors, jimmies, and foofy sauce.”
“Everybody’s got a bit of a kid in them.”
“You?” I laugh. “You were a kid once upon a time? I get the impression that you were born such a serious man.”
Once again, I think I’ve said the wrong thing, because his gaze goes dark, and he fixes his gaze straight ahead of us.
“You never know about a person,” he says.
That’s when I clam up, because he’s right. If he knew everything about me, he might not want to take me anywhere. I can guarantee my family and friends would feel that way if they ever found out about the secret I’m trying so hard to keep by earning this money.
When we enter the ice cream parlor, blushing pink lights, stained glass lamps, and quirky decorations greet us. Cage orders for me, of course—a banana split. He gets a frozen hot chocolate for him.
Meanwhile, the customers stare at him. He’s that magnetic, towering over everyone else, a strong, designer-suited giant among mortals.
A few men also look at me, but I think it’s the dress. At any rate, Cage glares at them and they stop.
He leads me to a table while carrying our treats, but before we get there, a male voice calls out to him.
“Cage Bryant!”
There’s the trace of an accent—Russian?—and an older man dressed in an impeccable suit comes over to shake Cage’s hand.
“Mr. Vasiliev.” Cage seems genuinely glad to see him. “I had no idea you’re in town.”
“We only just arrived.” The man is all kinds of wealthy, from his striped silk tie to his diamond cuff links to his steel and gold watch. His silver hair is styled in what I’d guess is a $500 haircut, and he also holds himself with a sort of old-school, refined air, almost as if he walked out of another century. “My grandchildren—they insisted we have frozen hot chocolate during our visit. I see you had the same idea.”
Cage lifts his dessert to the man, then says, “Indeed. Are you here on business or pleasure?”
“It is business that brings me here most unexpectedly.”
Mr. Vasiliev’s attention turns to me. He’s curious about who I am, and my adrenaline kicks in, making my mind race.
Is this man an important business associate? More importantly, is he savvy enough to know an escort when he sees one? I mean, I’m sure not dressed like a colleague, so he won’t mistake me for that. I’m dressed as if Cage and I might be on a date...
Mr. Vasiliev bows to me, and I extend my hand, still trying to think fast. He cordially kisses the back of it.
“And who might you be?” he asks.
The words are out of my mouth before I can take them back.
“I’m Karini,” I say. “Cage’s girlfriend.”
Chapter 7
Cage is fuming. It’s in his eyes as he drills me with his gaze. It’s in the clench of his jaw, the tense set of his shoulders. It’s in the way he looms in my peripheral vision as I offer a lame smile to Mr. Vasiliev, whose eyes have begun to sparkle at the news of the most eligible bachelor in New York’s “girlfriend.”
Oh, boy, I’ve blown it, and I really didn’t mean to. I should’ve just told Mr. Vasiliev my name and that’s it, but my nerves took over and I became Motor Mouth.
“A girlfriend,” the delighted man says, squeezing my hand between both of his. “I have not seen news of this in the society pages, Cage. Why have there been no pictures of this lovely woman with you?”
“I’ve kept her under wraps,” Cage says.
His double entendre isn’t lost on me. It’s a reminder that I’m his gift, and I’ve stepped way out of my job description.
Why didn’t I just smile and shut up?
Mr. Vasiliev is still holding my hand, patting it. “You must tell me your secret, dear girl. After all, no woman has been able to pin down my friend here thus far.” His eyes light up even more. “We shall meet for dinner together before I leave town next week, yes?”
If Cage wasn’t furious before, he sure is now. But I wonder if I’m the only one who can see it since Mr. Vasiliev doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yes,” Cage says. “I’ll arrange a time and place with you, Igor.”
“Splendid. But now I see that my grandchildren are already out the door. I promised them a visit to the Central Park Carousel, and they mean to hold me to it.”
As Mr. Vasiliev gives another gentlemanly bow to me, I smile again, keeping my mouth closed so I don’t do any more damage. Meanwhile, I pray for a hole to open up in the black-and-white tiled floor and swallow me so I won’t have to deal with the hell that’s about to rain down.
After all the goodbyes are said
and Mr. Vasiliev has left, I brace for Cage to lay into me. But he shocks me by staying silent, sliding our ice cream treats onto a table, and pulling out my chair.
I sit, gauging his mood as he takes a seat across from me. My gut tells me that I’m still in hot water.
“Eat,” he says.
He doesn’t bark out a command. It’s more like a firm suggestion, and that worries me. In fact, he’s so cool that it’s even worse than being yelled at.
My stomach is so curdled that I can’t eat a thing. I only use my long spoon to play with my sundae, and every time I look at Cage I try to let him know how sorry I am for my dumb mistake.
As everyone else in the shop laughs and has a grand old time under the sound of vintage music, his silence gnaws away at me. Then the dreaded moment finally arrives.
He leans forward only slightly, fixing his raging gaze on me. “You told Igor Vasiliev that we’re seeing each other.”
I only nod.
“Why?”
His tone rubs me the wrong way, instinctively getting my defenses up, just like yesterday when he was such a prick to me about my dead phone.
I calmly put down my spoon and fold my hands in my lap. Then I lean toward him so I can whisper back. “Would you have preferred that I said I was a paid escort?”
Oh, he doesn’t like that. If there’s such a thing as beyond-pissed, he’s it. But he’s still controlled, even now. The burning rage in his gaze is like a cold fire that seethes inside of him.
“Listen,” I say. “I was nervous and put on the spot. If I could take it back, I would.”
“There are no do-overs in this scenario.”
Bummer, because I could sure use one.
“Karini,” he says evenly. “Igor Vasiliev is very important to Bryant Industries. He’s considering partnering with us for many, many millions of dollars with my recruiting business in Russia.”
“Okay. But he seemed happy with you when he left. Wasn’t he?”
My naiveté does not charm Cage.
He ignores my optimistic comment. “This is a deal that needs to go through, or my business will take an enormous hit. My investors and board of directors will lose faith in me if things go south with Igor.” He’s still leaning toward me, and I can even see shards of silver in his blue eyes. “I’ve promised everyone this deal on a silver platter, and now it’s at risk.”
“How?”
He leans back in his chair and bars his arms over his wide chest. One of his fingers taps as if he’s counting to himself, bringing down his temper number by number.
“Is there anything you noticed about him?” he finally asks. “Anything that stood out to an observant person such as you?”
It’s a cut disguised as a compliment, and I fist my hands in my lap. “He seems…nice. And very understanding.”
He only gives me a look like I’m gum on the bottom of his expensive designer shoe, and it’s as condescending as hell.
My own temper bucks up again. “He was courteous, gentlemanly, and kind of…old fashioned.”
“Very good, Karini. You’re right—Igor is extremely traditional, and that includes his views. He’s been a bit reluctant in his dealings with Bryant Industries, in large part because I’m not married and I don’t have children. He considers such men to be unstable, and it’s taken a great deal of wooing to even get Igor to the point where he’s considering a partnership.”
“I still don’t—”
“Understand? You saw how approving he was at the mere thought that I had settled on one woman.”
“Yes.”
“So what do you think will happen if Igor never sees you again?”
Oh.
Oh.
Now I’m starting to get it.
I nudge the sundae away from me. It’s getting runny, and I can’t even think about how yummy it might’ve been if I hadn’t freaked out and thrown out the word girlfriend to Mr. Vasiliev.
Cage is still tapping his finger. “Let me paint that picture for you. If you don’t show up to our dinner, Igor will believe that I’ve dumped you—just like he thinks I do to all the women I go out on the town with. He’s going to see me as untrustworthy. He’ll rethink the deal. That’s how his mind works. To him, a family man is the only man he wants to have a business relationship with.”
“So you’re saying that I’ve undone all of your hard work, is that it?”
His silence once again speaks volumes.
One stupid word—girlfriend—is causing so much trouble. And it’s all my fault. I own this, but there has to be something I can do to improve matters.
“I’m going to make this right somehow,” I say softly.
Cage lets out a long, rough breath. His tapping finger goes still, and he uncrosses his arms. Then he leans forward again and lowers his voice to a harsh whisper so no one around us will hear.
“I’ve already decided that we’re going to continue the ruse of being a couple. We’re going to make a dinner date as Igor expects us to.”
Guilt presses down on my chest. Some gift I am. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“But it did. You were thoughtless.”
His rudeness makes me flinch. If he was a prick yesterday, he’s double the fun now.
I stand out of my chair, my back stiff. “You don’t have to be such a pill about it.”
“A pill. Like aspirin? Because I’ll need some of that with the headache you’ve given me.”
“Aw, poor baby.” I’m starting to see red. He just brings it out in me—from zero to sixty in a hot moment. “It’s beyond me how you manage a billion-dollar industry if something like this makes your delicate head hurt. Surely you’ve dealt with worse.”
He slowly brings his gaze back to me, searing me with it. Now he’s really good and pissed, because my backtalk has obviously rubbed him the wrong way. I’m not sure people generally talk to Cage Bryant like this, and something makes me a little proud that I’m the one who’s dared to do it.
Then something changes in his eyes. He’s not just angry at me. It’s like a switch has been flipped on in him, and he…
Good god, it’s almost as if he’s thinking that I need a good spanking.
And he’s the one who’d dearly love to do it.
My instincts have me rushing away from the table, heading toward the restrooms where I can shut myself in until he gets a hold of the urge I saw in him—a dark, powerful sexual attraction that doesn’t make sense to me.
But my body sure understands it. That’s why I’m making such good time weaving through the tables of chattering people, my adrenaline screaming and pulsing with a desire of my own that scares me just as much.
I hurry into the hallway, then nearly breathe a sigh of relief as I open the door to one of a few unisex single restrooms and—
Cage’s hand reaches over me and pushes open the door. Before I know it, he’s pulling me inside by my dress, then locking the door behind him.
The crazy heat in his gaze is still burning, sizzling into the very center of me and making me go liquid inside…and outside. In my belly…in my pussy. Temptation bubbles until my clit hums with the heat.
As I back away from him, my breathing cuts through me, and when I hit the tiled wall, I feel trapped.
An insane laugh wells up in my chest, and I realize something about myself.
I like this.
Cage takes his time approaching me, and the closer he comes, the more my heartbeat rages.
“You want to get a rise out of me?” he asks grittily. “Then keep giving me more attitude.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I say breathlessly.
“Oh, yes you do.”
He pauses a few tense feet away from me, and a naughty buzz begins to saw through all of me.
“Give me that sass again, Karini,” he murmurs with that darkness in his eyes. “And let’s see what happens.”
Chapter 8
It seems as if time stands s
till while Cage watches me from a few feet away, bare hunger in his piercing blue eyes.
Even though my muscles feel frozen, pinned by his gaze against the bathroom wall, everything inside of me is brewing, simmering. There’s something chemical going on between us, and it’s going to end up exploding.
Something in his eyes flickers, going even darker, and I gasp. Then, with a restrained growl, he pounces, grabbing me and hauling me against him until the length of his hard body presses against mine.
“You’ve been a bad girl today,” he whispers.
He doesn’t give me time to argue because he picks me up in his arms then tosses me onto his shoulder with effortless strength until I’m looking down at the floor with my hair covering half my face. My ass is in the air, his large hand on the curve of my cheek.
I grasp at his designer jacket, my head spinning. Every move he makes is primal, and it’s getting me so hot.
“What do bad girls get?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
As I feel his other hand slip beneath my dress, I clutch at his jacket harder. He tugs down my panties and pushes up my dress. My vision begins to pound along with the rest of the blood that’s surging through me.
Things are moving so fast that everything reels, and it’s only when he’s got my panties off that my thoughts catch up.
Air hushes over my naked bottom, and the naughty sensation makes my pussy throb even harder with wet need.
“You know what bad girls get,” he says, arrogantly caressing one of my ass cheeks. “Tell me what it is.”
“Punishment.” It comes out choked, blocking my breathing as I fight for oxygen.
“That’s right,” he says. “You get a spanking for fucking around with me back there.”
Now that he’s planted the thought, he waits for it to take hold of me. I shiver in fright, but I’m anticipating it, eagerly holding what breath I have. But when he doesn’t do anything, hopeful in such a warped way.
His grip tightens on me, and I hear a thwarted growl rumble from his chest as he fondles my ass some more, as if it’s all his and he wants me to know it.