by Tessa Bailey
If he’s here, he knows you were at Serve for the article.
Caroline felt instantly stupid for having romanticized Jonah’s presence. Stupid, naive, and riddled with king-size nerves. What was his plan? Blackmail? Yes. What else could it be? This was why she’d wanted to go eat dumplings with Eliza on Friday night instead of sticking it out at Serve. Dumplings would have kept her out of this mess, seconds from being outed as a hypocrite in front of Oliver and his would-be associate.
Caroline tried to focus as Asher began his presentation, but she couldn’t help sneaking another glance at Jonah. Of course, he was watching her steadily from underneath the brim of his tweed newsboy cap, dark blond hair peeking out at his collar. His body was sprawled back in his chair in a deceptively casual pose, but she knew from recent experience it would go rigid with authority at a moment’s notice. The leather bomber jacket he wore looked so comfortable and lived in, she had the sudden urge to crawl inside it with him.
Oh, that’ll never do. He’s here to burn you, make you eat crow. As if sensing her thoughts, he quirked up a corner of his mouth. Caroline quickly looked away.
“Working closely with Oliver, I’ve put together a series of ideas we hope will interest you,” Asher was saying. “As you know, our primary target is the wealthy and adventurous. More and more, we’re finding interests that used to be taboo and relegated to the bedroom are now discussed openly. Tastes that were once considered peculiar are now acceptable. Encouraged, even. With books such as—”
“I know the book to which you’re referring, Mr. Laurie,” Caroline interrupted quickly, ignoring Jonah’s soft chuckle. “I’ve done quite a bit of research for the article.”
“Yes, of course you have.” Asher smiled. “And our goal in merging with Preston’s would be combining finance with these certain activities, which are now emerging as mainstream. Why not give it all to our customer in one place?” He spread his hands wide. “Read about gold futures on page six; discover safe ways to practice suspension on page seven.”
Caroline’s hands clenched the newspaper in her lap until she forced them to relax. She opened her mouth to patiently explain to Asher why his idea happened to be ridiculous, then stopped cold. It became painfully obvious to her that any negative comment she made would paint her as a fraud. Jonah would recall as well as she did the way her engine had been so obviously revved by simply watching that woman being flogged. If she’d reacted with disgust and left at that point, she’d be in the clear to call the merger a ludicrous idea, but she hadn’t. Instead, she’d willingly gone with Jonah, a Dom, to that room. Heck, she’d pulled down her own panties for him. She’d called him Master.
“Uh, Mr. Laurie…” Caroline removed an imaginary piece of lint from her skirt. “Do you honestly believe that the demographic—the financially sound and otherwise kinky—is large enough to warrant its own magazine? Keep in mind, we’ll be losing more than half of our current readers who have no interest in”—she refolded her newspaper a different way—“whatever goes on at these places.”
Oliver leaned forward. “That’s the thing, Ro. It’s not just what takes place in clubs. People practice it at home. Role-playing, bondage—”
“Dear God, stop. Please.” Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose. “The fact that I have to hear my brother talk about this stuff is reason enough to veto the idea.”
Asher ran a nervous hand through his hair. “To answer your question, yes, I do believe the demo is large enough, as we’re hoping you find out for yourself with the trial feature story. Right now you’re targeting Wall Street financiers. This magazine would have a national audience.” When Caroline didn’t respond, he took a different tack. “Oliver mentioned you stopped by Serve Friday night.”
“Yes, of course. I can’t write my piece without the proper—”
“Experience?” Jonah supplied, speaking up for the first time.
She kept her features carefully composed, making damn certain not to look at him. That settled it. Jonah was here to humiliate her. Why wouldn’t he just get it over with? “I only had one drink.” Total truth.
“What was your impression of the customers?” Oliver asked, although he looked as though he already knew the answer. Once again, it struck Caroline how invested her brother had become in this crazy plan. His usual complacency had been replaced by a touch of excitement.
Feeling guilty that she would be the one to curtail it, Caroline glanced down at the floor. “Rich, polished. The type we’d want purchasing Preston’s.”
“But they aren’t purchasing it anymore,” Oliver reminded her. “We need to get ahead of this. Supply this product before people even become aware they’re demanding it. Let’s move with the times.”
“Yes,” Asher agreed. “And reach outside New York. This isn’t the only place where the wealthy choose to live. Think Vegas, Miami, Los Angeles. The list goes on.”
Caroline shook her head. “I can’t go against my father on this. Everything he’s worked for…not when there’s every possibility we could become a laughingstock.” She sighed as Asher and her brother exchanged weary glances. Man, being the bad guy blew.
Oliver nodded in Jonah’s direction. “Mr. Briggs—”
“Jonah.”
“Jonah.” Oliver jotted something down on a notepad. “If you don’t mind my asking, how many customers would you say come through Serve each month?” He waved a hand toward Jonah. “Oh, Caroline, I forgot to mention, Jonah is the owner of Serve. He’s here as kind of an expert.”
Expert indeed. Caroline swallowed hard. “Fine.”
Jonah winked. “I hope you found everything to your satisfaction Friday night.”
Her smile was so stiff that she thought it might crack. “Just swell, thanks.”
“Excellent.” After a beat, he looked back at Oliver. “Anywhere from fifteen to twenty thousand customers per month. We entertain men and women from all those cities you mentioned and more.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Some are traveling for business. Others fly to New York simply to attend Serve. The numbers are growing steadily.”
“Fifteen to twenty thou—” Oliver shook his head. “Fewer people buy Preston’s.”
She could sense all three men staring at her. “I know the numbers.”
A shadow crossed Jonah’s face. “I would argue that Serve’s vetting process is stricter than that of most Fortune 500 companies who grace the pages of your magazine. Criminal history checks, interviews, even health records if I feel a client’s desired activity calls for it.” He rubbed a thumb over his bottom lip. “All that in addition to constant surveillance and more security than is required by law. Are you writing all this down? I’d hate you to leave it out of your story.”
Oliver sat forward, interrupting her view of Jonah. “My sister is always thorough. She has earned her reputation the hard way, just like all of us.” Her brother looked faraway for a moment before he returned his attention to her. “Listen to what they’re telling us, Ro. We have no other option.”
Not true. Well, not entirely true. Caroline happened to have an emergency chute stuffed in her back pocket. One that she had been carefully cultivating through endless hours of work. One that could save Preston’s and gain them a new dose of relevancy. She’d become aware of the potential story through one of her most trusted sources two months ago. This source had brought her enough information to arouse her suspicion that a well-respected Wall Street investment banker by the name of Joseph Kimble was running an intricate Ponzi scheme. One that could bankrupt thousands of people nationwide. As far as Caroline knew, she and her source were the only two living souls who shared this belief, and she’d been quietly digging for the truth nonstop. Visiting old employees of Kimble, investigating his past business dealings.
If Caroline could break this story within the next two weeks, her article would earn Preston’s the notoriety they needed to pull through. It would mean paid televised interviews, new advertisers, and above all, esteem in the journalistic comm
unity. Even after her promised feature about Serve. Not to mention it would garner her father’s respect. It would make him proud of her and save the publication in one fell swoop. She couldn’t mention it to Oliver, however. Not until she was sure. Not until the words that would go to press had been written and verified ten times over.
“Ro?”
Her head jerked up, upsetting her glasses. She steadied them on her nose, pretending not to sense Jonah’s amusement. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“And?”
Caroline stood. Asher and her brother followed suit, but Jonah remained seated. “I, um…I need to think it over. I’m definitely not ready to commit at this point, though.”
“We need a decision soon.” Oliver pushed a frustrated hand through his hair. “Asher’s company is growing, and he wants to take us with him. Don’t let the clock run out.”
She nodded once. “If we’re finished here?”
Oliver fell back into his chair. “Asher and I have more to discuss.”
“Fine.” Caroline flicked a nervous glance at Jonah. Leaving him alone in the room with her brother was at the bottom of her list, but it appeared she didn’t have a choice. Praying he wouldn’t reveal her secret, she turned to leave just as Jonah rose from his chair.
“Which way to the restroom?”
“Down the hall to the right, next to Caroline’s office.” Oliver gave her a half smile, probably trying his best not to hate her guts. “Can you show him?”
Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “S-sure.”
Jonah followed her from the room.
Chapter Six
Jonah stepped past Caroline into her office. They hadn’t wasted a moment pretending he honestly needed a trip to the bathroom. God, he found a woman who knew when to pick her battles refreshing. Even in the meeting with her brother and Asher, she’d been concise and honest about her opinions without appearing the least bit condescending. She kept her emotions well hidden, but he’d seen how badly she wanted to make her brother happy. At one point during the meeting, she’d seemed to be in physical pain over disappointing him, successfully tapping Jonah’s protective instincts. He’d seen her distress and wanted to do away with it. Even as she spoke openly about her dislike of his chosen lifestyle, it still hadn’t swayed him.
He’d made the decision in the meeting to lay out his ulterior motive for being here, wanting every encounter between them to be honest. What he had planned for them wouldn’t leave an ounce of room for deception. Now, he’d have to deal with the fallout.
“Miss me, sweetheart?”
She flipped the lock on her door and moved quickly out of his reach. “Kind of like I miss having braces.”
As she began to pace nervously in front of her desk, he stifled a laugh. “Braces and glasses, huh? You didn’t by any chance go to Catholic school, did you?”
“St. Ann’s in Brooklyn Heights.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t hang on to the old uniform for kinky purposes.”
“It was worth a shot.”
Caroline leaned against her desk and blew out a breath. “So am I about to be blackmailed? Is that what’s going on here?”
He’d anticipated her assumption, but it still rankled. They may have only spent a too-brief time together, but he hadn’t imagined what had passed between them. Enough for her to know he wasn’t a bastard, at the very least. Instead of denying it outright, he decided to hear how she’d arrived at that conclusion. “Blackmailed?”
“I write a favorable article, depicting Serve as a fine, upstanding pillar of the community. Maybe even vote for your friend’s merger. Or else you’ll tell everyone what I…what we…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What we did in that room. It’s the only explanation for you being here a mere three days later with Young Michael Douglas.” She stomped her foot. “Damn. I have to stop doing that.”
“You really do. He’s more of an aging David Duchovny.”
“Huh. Maybe.” Caroline tilted her head, as if considering his observation, before snapping back to reality. “So, am I right? Because if I am, you’re wasting your time. I’ve already decided to vote against the merger, and my article will be unbiased. Not even the threat of public humiliation can sway my integrity or change my mind.”
“Really? You didn’t seem so sure of your decision in the meeting.” For a split second, distress blanketed her expression. Jonah was surprised to find himself taking an involuntary step forward. When he realized what he’d done, he stopped abruptly. “Or was that just for Oliver’s benefit?”
Caroline’s expression closed off. “Please stop trying to figure me out.”
“You make that exceedingly difficult, Caroline.”
Their eyes stayed locked together for a heavy moment. She broke away first. “So what’s with the newsboy cap? What are you, like, the Jaunty Dom?”
His mouth edged up. “I don’t usually get up this early. I had bedhead going on.”
A laugh escaped her. “You never say what I think you’re going to say. I hate that.”
“No.” Jonah couldn’t stop himself from moving closer. “You love it.”
She shook her head and leaned back farther onto the desk to keep the distance between them. “And licorice. Why the hell do you always smell like licorice?”
He kept coming. “Who’s trying to figure whom out now?”
“Answer the question.”
Jonah nodded toward the journalism degree from Columbia framed above her desk. “Top of your class, I’m guessing?” She merely smiled, but her expression faltered when he took that final step forward, bringing their bodies within an inch, where he could feel the heat of her through his clothes, just enough to make him hard. Jonah’s hand came up, and Caroline’s lips parted on a quick inhale. With a smirk, he changed direction and reached into his jacket to extricate his ever-present pack of Red Vines. “I order in bulk.”
She bit her lip, amusement lighting her eyes. The desire to kiss her stormed through him, but she sobered so rapidly, he forced himself to hold back. “Are you blackmailing me or not, Jonah?”
Hearing Caroline whisper his name dulled his senses momentarily, but he struggled back to the surface. “Christ, no, I’m not blackmailing you. Is it so difficult to believe I’d want to see you again?” He leaned in close, loving the way her chin tilted up on cue. “I’m a proud man, sweetheart. Yet I came here today knowing you’d like nothing better than to forget we ever met. Can you imagine how fucking badly I’d have to want you in order to do that?”
He watched her process that, analyzing him the entire time. “Badly.”
“Correct.” Jonah tossed the Red Vines onto her desk and planted his fists on either side of her. He made a pleased sound when he pressed against her and found her pliant, as if her body knew its master, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it. “Badly enough to return to that same room twice, by myself, and fuck my own hand to the memory.”
Caroline sucked in a breath. “That does sound bad.”
“I asked you a question when we walked in here. Answer it truthfully now.” He grasped her around the waist and boosted her up onto the desk. “Did you miss me?”
“No.”
“No?” Jonah placed his hand on her bare knee. “So if I stroked between your thighs right now, I wouldn’t find you wet?” She squeezed her legs together, and Jonah laughed under his breath. “Something tells me you’re not being truthful.”
Her chest shuddered. “If you’re not here to blackmail me, then why did you come? You couldn’t have just expected me to…give it up on my desk. On a Monday, of all days.”
Again, he had the strange urge to laugh. “But you would have on a Tuesday?”
“Of course not.” She gave a halfhearted push against his shoulders, but he could see her pupils were dilated, the pulse in her neck racing. “State your purpose. I have work to do.”
God, this woman swung from amusing to infuriating so quickly, for the first time he found himse
lf playing catch-up with a member of the opposite sex. He didn’t know if that delighted or irked him, only knew that he needed more. She was actually trying to dismiss him. Jonah battled back the need to discipline her for such an action, barely leashing the instinct at the last minute.
“If you had to take a guess, Caroline, what would you say my purpose is?”
“At first, I thought you just wanted to get me into bed.” She stumbled over the last word, her eyes expressing something akin to disbelief that they were having this discussion in broad daylight. “But it’s more. You’re going to use what happened at Serve against me. If I don’t write the article you want. Or—”
“Let’s get something straight, Caroline. I’m here because I’m hungry for your body. No, I’m fucking starved for it.” He tamped down on the urge to swallow her startled exhale. Instead, he took her ankles in his hands, massaging the insides with his thumbs. “If I blackmailed you, it might prevent me from giving you the rough fucking you deserve, wouldn’t it?”
Her breath hitched when his grip tightened on her ankles. “It would, yes. But I fail to see how that would benefit your club.”
He brought her ankles to the small of his back and crossed them there, noting the red staining her smooth neck, the tempting outline of her hard nipples. God, she was magnificent. “Give me a chance to show you that what happens in my club isn’t what you’ve already perceived. You get to make an informed decision about the article, the merger…and I get you beneath me. Simple, Caroline.”
“You think you’re getting me back to that place?” Her tone was haughty, but her body’s visible response ruined it. “It’s going to take some convincing.”