by Amelia Wilde
This is not how I want to approach Dominic to tell him. Not at all.
All at once, as I stare into my own eyes, all the fatigue from the last couple of days—the hangover, the sobbing, the all-nighter with the data—hits me, full force.
Four in the morning.
I can maybe get up at seven to make it to work on time, but…no. I find my way back to my cell phone, dial Mr. Overhiser’s office, and say that I need the morning off, I’m sorry for the short notice, something came up. Then I dial Stephanie’s desk phone and ask her to cover for me for the morning. I’ll be in shortly after lunch, I tell her.
It’s a near thing, making it back to bed before I fall asleep, but I manage it, tumbling under the covers with my eyes already closed. As I drift off, an image floats to the front of my mind: Dominic smiling at me, shaking his head, forgiving me for this mess.
It’s after one o’clock when I wake up, rubbing at my eyes, trying to get the world back into focus. When I see the time on my phone screen I bolt straight up in bed, my legs tangled in the sheets. “Shit. Shit.” It’s well after lunch. “Way to screw up in the home stretch, Vivienne,” I shout, while I run to the bathroom and fling myself into the shower. I’m already late, but I’m not about to show up at the office looking anything less than halfway perfect. Not today.
I rush through the shower but force myself to slow down. I twist my hair up behind my head so that I look like a lady and not a deranged animal who slept in too late and got doused with water. I take special care with my makeup, putting on some mascara and eyeliner, drawing it in with an oddly steady hand.
The first dress I pull out of my closet is perfect for—
What kind of occasion is this? Trying to get a meeting with my ex-boyfriend and former lover who is still technically my boss, although not really, because my real boss is Milton Jeffries of the FBI, so long as I can get this shit taken care of by the end of business tomorrow?
Regardless, it’s a simple black sleeveless sheath with understated embroidery in a slightly lighter shade, summer flowers drawn with an air of professionalism. I slip into my heels, grab my purse and the flash drive, pop the second drive with a copy of everything I’ve found along with my summary and findings, and head out the door.
My skin glistens on the way to the subway. It’s hot, and the sun is relentless. The same as when we went to that amusement park. My heart aches at the thought of Dominic popping cotton candy into his mouth and laughing. Everything before we got into the cab was the stuff that dreams are made of, for God’s sake.
I’m rushing, but even so, Wilder Enterprises looms up before long, before I’m ready for this.
No choice. I need to be ready now.
The air conditioning in the lobby is a welcome relief.
First order of business is to go up to my desk and make sure Mr. Overhiser hasn’t suffered a breakdown without me.
Naturally, he has not. He’s preparing to go home for the day as I put my purse into the bottom drawer of my desk. “Hello, Mr. Overhiser,” I call through his open door. “I’m sorry about this morning—I had—”
“It’s not a problem, Vivienne!” he calls back. “I’ve got a meeting outside the office. I won’t be back in.” He pulls the last few of the things he needs from his desk, then closes all the drawers and comes out by my desk. “There are a few things that need taking care of,” he says, glancing down at the stack of blue folders on my desk. Then he gives a little frown, like he doesn’t want to assign me this work, but it’s necessary. “By the end of the day, would you?”
I grit my teeth, putting on the biggest smile I can. I will not miss working for Overhiser when this is finished. “Absolutely.”
Then he’s on his way out the door, whistling as he goes, and my heart is in my throat.
It’s time to call Dominic.
44
Dominic
“Mr. Wilder—there’s an unscheduled call for you. Can I take a message, or put it through?”
I turn away from my screen to where Emily is standing in the doorway to my office, one foot in and one foot out, ready to go back to her desk. “Who is it?” I finally have my balance again, after that bizarre executive meeting, and the afternoon is ticking away.
“Vivienne Davis, from the executive level.”
The name makes my skin go hot and my stomach go cold. I don’t want to talk to her—hearing her voice is going to be torture—but I’m the one who put myself in this position. I’m the one who pursued her. I’m the only one who can’t fire her now.
At least it’ll put me out of my misery. It won’t take long to know whether she’s over this already, the fight we had firmly in the past, or whether it’s still an open wound for her, too.
I try to keep all of this off my face. “Put the call through.”
My hands are slick while I wait for the indicator light on my phone to beep, and it does, an eternal moment later. I snatch up the handset too fast, too violently, and almost drop it.
Vivienne, I want to say, like we’re both in bed together, like none of this happened, but instead I say, “This is Dominic Wilder.”
There’s the smallest sound over the phone line, like she’s swallowing hard. “Mr. Wilder.”
That’s all it takes. That’s all it takes, and I know with absolute certainty that this is killing her like it’s killing me.
I don’t know how we’re ever going to get past this. I don’t know how she could stay in her job—she’ll transfer, at some point, because we can’t—
“Is there something I can do for you, Ms. Davis?”
She takes another breath in, and then answers, the tension straining her voice. “I’d like to meet with you for a few minutes, if you had some time this afternoon.”
“This afternoon? No.” I answer as quickly as I can, because it’s true. I have meetings scheduled for the rest of the afternoon, and I’m not going to move them, as much as it’s a knife in the gut for me to deny her anything, anything. My new focus is on Wilder Enterprises. I can’t be having these kinds of conversations when I’m supposed to be building the company. Then another thought occurs to me. “Is this related to—personal or business matters?”
“Business.” She says it steadily, but there’s a little shake in her voice that tells me it’s not entirely that, it will never be entirely that again.
“I’m fairly scheduled for the afternoon,” I say, moving heaven and earth to keep my own voice in check. “Could you come by my office at about five-thirty?”
“That would be perfect. I’ll see you then.”
“Goodbye.”
She hangs up before all the unsaid things between us can hang out there on the line, while we both writhe on the end of our hooks.
It’s a miracle that I get anything else done for the rest of the afternoon. At ten to five, I go out to Emily’s desk.
“Head out early today.”
She stops typing and blinks up at me. “Are you—I’ve got a few more things to finish for—”
“Are any of them urgent and needed first thing in the morning?”
She considers, glancing at the screen. “No, I’m—I’m actually ahead of schedule a bit. These are for Monday.”
“Head out early and enjoy the afternoon.”
Emily gives me a smile and clicks out of the calendar. “Thanks, Mr. Wilder.” She’s gone within three minutes. The elevator doors slide open, then they’re closing, and she’s gone. I should give her early afternoons more often. She’s never once complained about staying late.
I repeat the process for everyone else on the floor, and no one argues.
I can’t sit still, so I pace over to the windows, then pace back, my heart revving up. Vivienne’s not going to be late.
I’m right about that. The elevator doors open at exactly five-thirty, and there she is, walking past the empty offices and meeting rooms. Her eyes flicker from side to side, and as she gets closer, she presses her lips into a thin line.
She knows
we’re alone.
I go back behind my desk.
The air in the room is fiery with the tension, stretched tight, ready to snap, and Vivienne takes a big breath in, her green eyes huge, the color made brighter by the fact that they’re red.
“Mr. Wilder.” Her voice cuts the silence like a knife, and I can tell it’s taking a huge effort to keep it in check. “I have—I have something I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Take a seat.” I do the same, sitting down in a parody of normalcy. “Go ahead, Ms. Davis.”
She looks me squarely in the eye. “I don’t want to dance around this.”
“Don’t.”
“Okay.” Another breath. “For the last couple of months, I’ve been working undercover at Wilder Enterprises. I’m an agent with the FBI, and I was sent here to determine if a member of your company has been selling sensitive energy technology information to someone affiliated with the Chinese government.”
My heart thuds, once, twice, against my rib cage, and I can feel blood rushing to my face. I wasn’t wrong, then. I was right, and she was hiding something from me.
“Last night,” she continues, “I finally gathered the final pieces of evidence to prove that Mark Sadler, a member of your technical support department, has been doing involved in such a scheme.” She reaches behind the folder she has pressed to her chest and produces a flash drive, which she drops on the desk between us, biting her lip.
Vivienne hasn’t looked away from me, and she doesn’t now, only her eyes are glistening, and the next breath she takes has a hitch in it. “I couldn’t tell you, Dominic, and I shouldn’t be telling you now. I should have called my boss early this morning so that they could put together a plan to make the arrest. But I couldn’t—” Her voice breaks, and she swallows painfully. “I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t keep hiding from you. I’ve been—I’ve been so heartbroken. I’ve been beside myself with the pain of not being able to tell you, of losing you, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t do it anymore.” She’s still looking at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I couldn’t do it. My job—it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to forgive me.”
For the first time, Vivienne looks down at my desk. “I have a call to make,” she says after a moment of heavy silence. “But I wanted to tell you first. I couldn’t leave all this behind without telling you first.”
Then she stands up, the back of her knees pressing her chair backward, and makes a move toward the door.
I’m out of my seat in an instant, around the desk in two steps, gathering her into my arms and kissing her hard, the heat escalating between us and around us and everywhere. Her tears are salty on her lips. The folder falls to the floor, and her arms go around my neck.
“No.” My voice is husky, unstable. “Don’t leave any of it behind. Don’t leave. Come back to me.”
45
Vivienne
Dominic’s voice is a balm on the shattered mess of my heart, and his words break me wide open, the silent tears turning to sobs of relief as he kisses me, again and again, his lips claiming me for his own, his need for me palpable in every single touch.
“I wanted to tell you,” I say in broken phrases through the kisses. “I wanted—”
“I was a prick. I was reckless with you, and I shouldn’t have been.” He pulls back, hands on my face, and stares into my eyes, his gaze piercing. “Vivienne, it all started coming apart from the moment I walked away from you. And I realized—I realized it was a bigger disaster to leave you behind than it ever was to stay with you.” His voice is urgent, and I put my hands up on his wrists, holding on tight. “We can figure this out. Whatever it means for your job, for my company—we can figure it out. But I can’t be without you. I can’t.”
“I don’t ever want to be without you,” I say, with one final sob, and it turns into laughter at the tail end. “It was all so stupid, such a stupid fight—”
Then his mouth is on mine again, possessive and hot, and I melt under his hands. With one movement, he lifts me up and turns, backing me up until my ass makes contact with the hard mahogany of his desk, and with one sweep of his arm he clears it, an elegant pen holder and a desk calendar clattering to the ground.
His tongue explores my mouth like it’s the first time we’ve ever kissed, and I can tell from his harsh breathing that he’s barely able to keep himself in check. I feel the same wild energy and urgency pulsing through me, rocketing through me, and my clothes have never seemed like such an inconvenience in my life.
I wrap my hands around Dominic’s neck as his hands move roughly downward, touching me like I want to be touched right now, touching me like I belong to him and I always will, and nothing will ever break us apart again. He shoves the skirt of my dress up around my hips and nudges his legs between mine so I’m spread out on the edge of his desk. With his lips on the side of my neck, trailing hot wet kisses down to my shoulder, he puts both hands on my panties and wrenches them down and off, tossing the fabric to the floor.
I hold on tight. I hold on like I’m drowning, like he’s the last lifeline, and the sensation of his muscles moving under my hands as he undoes his buckle, unzips his pants, frees his hard and ready cock, is burned into my memory.
This isn’t lovemaking, this is a hot, desperate fuck, and I’m soaking wet, spread wide, and Dominic doesn’t waste a moment before he’s thrusting into me, his hands on my ass, somehow keeping me steady on the edge of the desk.
“Yes…yes…”
He’s buried to the hilt in one stroke, and all my muscles clench around him, my toes curling, all the pent-up energy focusing down to my molten core. “Never leave me again,” he growls into my ear, and one, two, three thrusts and I’m over the top in my first orgasm, coming hard onto his steeled length, biting down on his shoulder to muffle my cries.
“I didn’t leave,” I gasp. “I didn’t leave—”
His hands tighten on my ass, and he slows the pace for a few minutes, kissing the side of my temple, biting at my earlobe, his voice a low whisper. “You’re right. I’ll never turn my back on you again, sweet thing. Never again. You’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
The words ignite him again, and the languid pace evaporates in an instant.
“Tell me again.”
“I’m yours—” I can hardly get a breath in, my legs spread to capacity on the desk, and my clit is throbbing with every stroke as our bodies make contact again and again, and I’ve been dying for this, I’ve been dying to be taken, to be possessed, and Dominic is giving it to me all in this moment, all in this hot, concentrated moment. The door to his office is wide open and he doesn’t care, and I don’t care, it’s all I can do to even see past his shoulders.
My hair comes loose from its twist, spilling down over my shoulders, and with one hand still firmly on my ass, he reaches back and threads his fingers through it, pulling my head back, tipping my chin up so that my neck is exposed for him to lick in one long motion with his tongue.
“God, you taste so good—”
I tighten around him, completely unable to stop the moans escaping from my lips as I wind up again for another orgasm. When it hits, it’s so powerful that I almost lose my grip on Dominic’s shoulders, rocking dangerously into him, and he’s holding me tighter than ever before when he goes over the edge into his own release, coming hard inside me with a sharp hiss.
We’re locked in place, bodies trembling, for a long time after that.
Until Dominic lifts his head from my shoulder, sweeps my hair away from my face with his hands, and kisses me, tenderly, gently. “I love you, Vivienne Davis.”
I make a face, and he pulls back another few inches. “What?”
“My name is Vivienne.”
He gives me a wry grin. “Is this the last of the secrets, then?”
“I swear. My name is Vivienne Peterson.”
“I can live with that.” Dominic purses his lips. “Unless you want to take my name when—”
I bu
rst into laughter. “You are not proposing to me right now.”
He looks hurt. “Why not?” Then he grins. “When I actually propose, it won’t be in my office.”
“Why not?” I echo, pretending to take in the space for the first time. “It’s so romantic.”
He helps me off the desk, helps to straighten my dress, tugging it back into place before he zips his pants, threading his belt back into an appropriate state. “We did meet in front of this very building.”
I roll my eyes. “That was—not one of my more shining moments. So maybe we agree to forget it?”
He laughs out loud, and I shift my weight to the side, getting ready to head to the door. We don’t need to be here anymore. I need to make a call, and Dominic—
My heart drops straight into my toes, ice cascading through my veins.
Because Mark Sadler is standing in the doorway, face pale, both hands wrapped around a Beretta 92, the black gun trembling slightly in his grasp.
46
Dominic
Vivienne’s face goes pale, and the easy laughter tumbling out of my mouth turns into a silence.
“I’m not going to let this happen.”
The voice behind me is totally unfamiliar. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before in my life. I’m torn between a desperate need to see who the hell this is, and what the hell they’re talking about, and the need to stay looking at Vivienne.
She presses her lips into a thin line, then reaches slowly for my arm, pressing her hand against my elbow so that I turn. “Slowly,” she whispers. “Slowly.”
I turn around, and my heart jumps.
Security hasn’t been a big issue at Wilder Enterprises. Many of the firms who rent space from us hire their own security, and I have a team stationed outside the building, but I’ve never been one for a militaristic presence in the front lobby. The regular team that assigns visitor badges has always done a fine job, but with a plummeting sensation I realize, too late, that I should have done something once O’Connor clued me in on the investigation. I should have been able to foresee this kind of situation—