A Sinful Little Christmas
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J. Margot Critch
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16,5K
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22
CHAPTER ONE
A WHITE-HOT RAGE filled Alana Carter, and with fire in her eyes, she looked over at her friends who’d assembled in the conference room. She should have known those motherfuckers-she-loved-like-brothers were up to something when they’d ambushed her in her office. “You did what?” she asked, forcing the words through her clenched teeth.
“Lana,” Gabe started in a careful—almost gentle—way that made her want to reach across the table and smack him. “We all agree that you’ve been doing a great job running all of the properties.”
“I know I have. Keep going,” she told him, seeing through his attempt to placate or pacify her.
Rafael cleared his throat. She turned her stare on him. “We’ve noticed that you’ve been working really hard lately. We can tell you aren’t feeling well. You shouldn’t have to take it all on yourself. You need help. And you won’t let us.”
“I’m feeling fine,” she insisted, without using any of the outrage or emotion she wanted to put behind the words. Lest they accuse her of being hysterical. Her heart pounded in her ears, and Alana tried her best to remain as outwardly cool as possible. In her career she’d crafted a poker face that could fool the most seasoned player. “I won’t let you?” she asked, a steeliness in her voice. “When would any of you have the time to do any of the things I do, or work the hours I keep? Between your own jobs, there are weddings to plan, social lives, family time...” She trailed off. She shook her head. “That doesn’t give you the right to hire some guy I don’t even know to replace me.”
Brett was next to jump in. “Michael’s not replacing you,” he clarified. “We all agreed that bringing in another pair of hands would be a good idea. Especially since Scott left, since we’ve all been so busy with our personal lives.”
Her head throbbed and she felt a pounding from her chest to her ears. Cursing Scott, former manager of Di Terrestres, who’d quit several months ago, she turned mad again. “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a fucking child. It’s not my problem you have all stepped back from the business to focus on your personal lives, and relationships.” She spit out the last word as if it was poison on her tongue. She could hear the four distinct sighs of the men sitting around her, and one side of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied half smile, that she’d successfully annoyed them.
“Alana,” Gabe started again. “Michael and I went to school together in London. He started and ran one of the hottest erotic clubs in London for several years. He’s an asset to us. He can really help us out over here. Especially with all the time you’ve been putting in at the hotel, the restaurants, and everything else you do. He could run Di Terrestres, take it off your plate with no problem at all. He knows what he’s doing.”
Alana forced her gaze away from the Brotherhood, her friends and business partners, closing her eyes against the sunlight pouring in from the large panoramic windows. She remembered the bottle of medication in her desk drawer, and how she could use a pill now. Ever since she’d been prescribed them, she had a hard time remembering to take them. “How long have you guys been planning this?”
“We met up with him in Dublin for my bachelor party,” Alex explained. “He was looking for a change, and we all thought he would be a good fit here. And you don’t have to worry about anything. We took care of all of the human resources and visa paperwork.”
“How considerate of you.” Alana’s laugh had no humor. “Funny, we used to make all the decisions together. What happened to that?” None of her friends looked at her, nor did they budge. She was furious. But her head pounded and she was tired, and felt too poorly to fight with them. “Fine,” she relented. “I’ll talk to the guy. But that doesn’t mean anything. I’ll try to find something for him to do here.”
She put her palms on the table and pushed herself up. On wobbly legs, Alana reached for her bag, and the room tilted a little on its axis. She steadied herself, hoping her friends didn’t notice, and without another word, she walked out the door. “Assholes,” she muttered to herself as she made her way to her office. How dare they bring in another man to work for them? They’d gone over her head and made a major business decision without her. Of everything she did for the Brotherhood and their businesses, running Di Terrestres was her favorite. The erotic club they’d opened was the most profitable of all of their ventures. The club was her baby, she’d come up with the idea and the concept, and she absolutely did not want to hand over control to some stranger.
She walked into her office, and in the reception area she smiled at her assistant, Cameron. “Any messages?”
Cameron handed her a small stack. “Just a few.” Alana flipped through them. Contractor, inspector, payroll administrator, city officials...the usual suspects. “Thanks.”
After grabbing a Sanpellegrino from the bar fridge, she made it to her desk. She pulled out the bottle of pills, shook one into her hand and swallowed it with a mouthful of water. Alana was new to taking the medication. But her doctor had insisted on it when she couldn’t seem to lower her blood pressure or reduce her anxiety or panic attacks through the usual methods. The medication wasn’t at all necessary, and she knew it. It was only a precaution, really, and her doctor was overreacting. Neither her anxiety, nor her blood pressure, was the issue. Alana ate well and exercised regularly. It was just stress from work. That was all, she told herself.
Alana spun around in her chair and closed her eyes against the light coming from the large window, willing her heart rate to slow and her breathing to relax, meditating, as she waited for the room to stop spinning. Cameron buzzed in, interrupting her relaxation, and she sighed, not in the mood to see or talk to anyone. At least until the episode was over.
“Yes?” she asked, trying to remove all traces of fatigue from her voice.
“Alana, there’s a Michael Paul here to see you. He says he’s here to discuss his new position.”
He’s here? She didn’t want to deal with him today; she’d assumed that it would at least be next week before she had to talk to him. She put the pill bottle she was still holding into the drawer and slammed it shut. In a quick attempt to compose herself, she gulped back the rest of the water and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders. “Send him in,” she told her assistant.
A few seconds later the door opened, and Alana prepared her best thousand-yard stare. The one that shriveled the balls of many a man who dared cross her—in the boardroom, the bedroom, on the street and anywhere else. But her eyes widened when she cast them on the man who walked in the door.
Well, hello.
Alana wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but the man who entered her office certainly wasn’t it. He was tall, dark, sinfully sexy—exactly how she liked them. Black hair, closely shaved to his head, and a beard framed his strong jaw and the fullest, softest-looking male lips she’d ever seen. In a royal blue suit and a white shirt, open at the collar, which contrasted nicely against his dark skin, he was quite the picture. In response to his physical appearance, she flicked an eyebrow upward with interest, before she could remind herself that she was at work and that Michael Paul was her newest employee—whether she liked it or not.
“Ms. Carter?” he asked, approaching her desk. His British accent got her attention as he towered over her.
“Yes, that’s me.”
Still standing, he extended his hand to her. “I’m Michael Paul.”
She blinked, but quickly recovered to cover her physical attraction to him. She had discovered only a few minutes ago that the man even existed, and now he was standing in front of her, introducing himself. “Yes, I’ve been expecting you,” she lied, not willing to let him know that her partners had just ambushed her with the news of his hiring, and that he’d caught her off guard, at a weak moment.
Remaining sitting, so he was forced to lean over her desk, she put her hand in his, and the size of it completely dwarfed hers. His were strong hands, capable. Lightly calloused, not at all as smooth as she would have expected. Working man’s unmanicured hands. Their eyes connected, and a spark snapped between them as their palms flattened together.
Hands had always been a turn-on of hers, and she could tell a lot about a man by his hands, by how he used them, moved them, and by how he shook hands. His confidence and strength. What kind of work he did, how he held himself. And Michael’s handshake told her quite a bit. For a second time in just a few minutes, she about lost her breath and her equilibrium, and such an immediate reaction to a man shocked her. Alana was normally in complete control over her emotions, and to have that control slip, well, that sort of thing didn’t happen to her.
When Michael released her from his grasp, Alana was grateful that she was able to mentally compose herself. “Please, sit down,” she told him, waving at the sleek couch on the other side of her desk. But when he stepped back, he removed his jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch, and she almost sighed at his form. Michael’s shoulders were broad, and his arms, back and chest were strong, as evidenced by the bulges of muscle that showed through the fine material of his white shirt. Alana was barely hanging on, and when he unbuttoned his shirt at the cuffs, she almost fell out of her chair.
Attempting to seem oblivious, she watched with keen interest as he rolled the cuffs of his shirt up, exposing corded forearms, more dark skin, soft hair on his wrist, the expensive gold watch. At least Michael was getting comfortable, because all Alana could do was squirm in her chair to alleviate the pressure growing between her thighs.
He smiled, showing a row of brilliantly white teeth behind those full lips. “I was hoping that we could talk about my new job a bit before I get down to work,” he said, settling back onto the low, plush couch. It was a feature she’d thought of when she designed her office, after one too many meetings with men who looked down at her. Her desk sat above the couch, placing her slightly above anyone sitting opposite her. But Michael’s height, which she’d pegged at around six foot five, put him more or less at eye level with her.
She straightened, telling herself that she couldn’t lust over the new guy. No matter how fucking sexy he was. He was her employee, whether she wanted him here or not. “It’s not your job yet,” she told him.
“Right, then,” he said carefully as he leaned back. His long legs crossed in front of him, his right ankle over his left knee, and his arms stretched casually along the back of the couch—as if he owned the place. “That wasn’t how I understood my meeting with your partners, though. Especially since I was able to procure a work visa...for my job here.” He paused and then grinned. “But sure,” he said. “Let’s talk. Because now that I’m here, and have the job, I’m not going anywhere. The sooner we can get on the same page, the better.”
Alana watched him for a moment. She might be attracted to him, and she certainly appreciated confident men, but he was cocky in a way that she wasn’t sure she liked. Unlike most people who sat across from her desk, he didn’t seem at all intimidated by her. In an attempt to gain control of the meeting, she cooled, and tried her best to seem unaffected by him. Hopefully, she was successful, but his smirk told her that he saw right through her. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Paul. I’m not certain we can find the same page. I’d settle for us at least being in the same book.”
Michael narrowed his eyes at the woman sitting in front of him. Gabe and his mates had told him about Alana—warned him about her, was more like it—but he hadn’t properly prepared himself to meet her in person. Sure, she was beautiful, but that wasn’t all. Already he could tell she was strong, tough, smart, a formidable woman. And for some reason, she didn’t seem pleased to see him in her office. That was a surprise. The fellows had enthusiastically welcomed him aboard, and he had no idea why he met resistance now. “What would you like to know?” he asked.
“This is far different than any situation I’ve found myself in, and even though my partners brought you here, I have no idea who you are. As far as I’m concerned, it’s still a job interview. So, start by telling me about yourself.” Bristling at her command, his entire body tensed. He was accustomed to being the one in control, and she’d put him in a subservient position. He didn’t like it, but knowing he needed to impress her, he tamped his annoyance down and looked at her from where he sat. His height may have put him almost at her level, but whether it was the low couch or the high position of her chair, she and her desk still seemed to tower over him. Total power move on her part, and he had to admire the design. Neat trick. He pegged her as a woman who liked to be in control. But he also liked control, and he wouldn’t give it up that easily.
She threw her long blond hair over her shoulder, and barely looked at him. He clenched his fist, imagining himself pushing his fingers through it, pulling a little. He saw her eyes dip to look at his hands.
His new boss was sexy. And his immediate reaction to her surprised him, especially when he should have been focused on making a positive first impression. While Michael had thought it was a done deal, it seemed that Alana Carter was the gatekeeper of his sorely needed second chance. Sure, her male partners had given him a great job and a new opportunity, but now he knew he wouldn’t get far if he couldn’t get by her.
He hadn’t packed up what was left of his life just days before Christmas to move to a new country to mess it all up on day one. He had to be on his best behavior, because screwing up his new life before it started wasn’t an option, no matter how beautiful the woman was, or how badly he wanted her to give him a personal tour of her erotic club in the bottom floor of the building, and then maybe he’d show her a thing or two himself.
Alana watched him expectantly, and Michael realized that she was waiting for a response. Right, the interview. He cleared his throat. “Well, up until very recently, I lived in London, where I opened and ran Swings Playground. We made five million pounds in profit in our first year, and then each year since, we’ve doubled the previous year’s earnings.”
She nodded with approval, and Michael felt his confidence bolster. “Very impressive. I know Swings,” she said. “I’ve visited a couple of times while in London.”
“Oh really?” he asked, his interest piqued, and he was curious where her tastes lay.
“Yeah, a couple of years ago. I was in London for a conference.”
“And how was your visit?”
“Quite fun. It’s a nice, comfortable place you’ve built.”
“Thank you,” he said, a bitter taste in his mouth, thinking about the place he’d created but then been ousted from. “I look forward to finally seeing Di Terrestres as well,” he told her, hoping to take the focus off himself and put it on her own club. “Once our interview is over, that is.”
“I’ll get someone to show you around later, if we need to. But back to you. Swings is successful, and well-known in the international community. I’m curious, though. Why exactly did you leave?”
Michael paused. He didn’t know how to form the words, having never said them out loud to anyone before. He had deeply buried the pain and humiliation of the betrayal. But in the moments when he let himself feel, it still stung him. He hadn’t hoped to get into it during his first meeting with the woman he’d be working with. So, he went with a fair response of “It was time for my partners and me to part ways.”
He caught the flicker of a question that showed in her eyes, her bullshit detector, no doubt, pinging at his nonresponse.
“Why the vague answer?” she asked, leaning back in her chair. She crossed her arms, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her more-than-ample breasts pushed upward. His eyes drifted to the line of her cleavage that disappeared beneath the low neckline of her dress. “Unless you’re too busy looking at my breasts to provide an actual one.”
Caught. “Sorry.” He wasn’t at all sorry. “There’s not much else to say about my split from my partners.”
“I think there is.”
“It’s nothing that will affect my ability to work here,” he assured her.
But she wouldn’t let it go. “Legal trouble?” she asked, with her eyes narrowed and the tilt of her head showing off a length of smooth skin on her neck. All those sensitive nerve endings. He wondered if she would moan or squeal if he grazed it with his lips.
“More like personal.” Michael’s voice was gruff, barely recognizable to him. It wasn’t anger that had transformed it—as was what happened when he normally spoke of the infidelity he’d suffered at the hands of those closest to him—but lust. It had been a while since he’d had such a reaction to a woman, no matter the attitude she threw his way. Maybe that was part of her appeal, he mused. She didn’t just fall at his feet and want to give him anything he desired. Her resistance to him was new, and the fact that he would have to work hard to impress her—well, he liked that. He could appreciate hard work. It just made the rewards sweeter.
Alana raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
He knew he would have to further elaborate, or she wouldn’t let it go. He averted his eyes, checking out her office—it was sleek in design, modern, but comfortable—and he blew out a heavy breath. “Okay, fine. My wife—” he caught her quick, surprised blink “—my very soon to be ex-wife,” he clarified. “We owned the club with a friend of ours. The marriage ended, the friendship ended, and so did the partnership.” Michael figured giving the short-and-not-so-sweet version of what went down would be the easiest option.
“I know there’s something you’re leaving out there,” she pointed out. Michael said nothing, offering her nothing more about his personal life. “Why did you want to come here?”
“I’m at a crossroads in my life. Gabe reached out to me, and I met him in Dublin.” Michael noticed her head tilt and her lips purse, then added, “I figured it was a good time for something new, a change of scenery, and I figure there’s no different scenery than Las Vegas. I’ve heard great things about Di Terrestres. You’re known internationally within the scene. I’m not sure if you know this, but I’ve known Gabe since university. He’s told me all about you.” He flicked his eyes over her. But Gabe hadn’t told him everything about her—he’d left out that Alana Carter was possibly the sexiest woman Michael had ever seen. Smoking hot, hard as steel and capable of making him want to do so many things to her, with her, have her do to him. But he stuck with “Gabe has had good things to say about you and the way you do business.” Knowing she wouldn’t make it easy for him, he kept going, hoping flattery and sex appeal would help melt her icy exterior. “I’m excited to get to work, to see what I can do for you,” he finished with an innuendo-laced, closed-lip grin. Just bring the conversation to sex, and away from his personal life. That was where his comforts lay.
The way Alana raised her eyebrows, but then quickly lowered them, let Michael know that he’d had the intended effect. He saw the way she looked at him, and it was obvious that the attraction between them flowed both ways. She cleared her throat and leaned her elbows on her desk, zeroing in on him with those light gray eyes, while his eyes dipped again to her chest and the view he’d been presented with. “And what do you think you can do for me?” she asked, her voice husky.
He, too, leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I can relieve some of the stress and the pressure you must be under. Being a powerful woman in a man’s world can’t be easy. I’m here to do the heavy lifting at Di Terrestres and lighten your load, no matter what it might be.”
Alana stood behind her desk, forcing him to look up at her. He was a tall man, and had never had a woman stand over him. “I think I know how you can relieve some of the stress, and make my day a little easier...” He watched with interest as she drew her fingertips over the top of her desk. Every movement she made was crafted to have an effect on him. He could tell she knew how to use her body, her mind, every part of her, to seduce to get what she wanted.
And Michael was almost embarrassed by how well it worked on him.
He stood as well. He could already feel all of his blood rushing to his dick. “Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”
“Well, first,” she said, her voice sultry, as she reached back and opened her desk drawer, took a step around the front of the desk to stand in front of him and handed over a stack of paper tickets. He inhaled deeply and found her perfume. Citrus with a floral hint, alluding to a more playful side? He wondered. Her scent was captivating, intoxicating, but no more so than the way she pursed her lips, one side tilted upward, and she dipped her chin to what she’d placed in his hand, urging him to look.
He looked in his hand and saw what she’d given him, and he laughed without humor.
“You can pick up my dry cleaning,” she told him, her voice still a sultry whisper. “The address is on the back.”
Her dry cleaning? “You can’t be serious.”
All hint of seduction was now missing from her voice and posture. “Mr. Paul, you’ll discover that I’m rarely anything but serious.”
He shook his head, and glared down at her. “Do you know what you’re paying me? I didn’t come all the way here from London to run your errands.”
“You’ll do exactly what I tell you to do,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I don’t care what I’m paying you, just make sure you prove you’re worth it.”
He could tell she was angry, and no longer the ice queen she’d been when he walked in. It made him smile that he’d been able to affect her. “I’ll show you how worth it I am. But I have to say, I was under the impression from your partners that I’d be running Di Terrestres. Hence, that large salary.”
“That’s a joke. I run Di Terrestres. I can’t be blamed for any misinformation you were given by my associates.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Good question.” They each watched the other, and the more Michael dueled with Alana, the more frustrating she became. And the more a sick part of him enjoyed it.
She sighed, and he wondered if he was finally wearing her down. “Let’s get this over with, and we’ll see where you belong here,” she said. “What sorts of things have you been credited with in your old club. What did you do there?”
He sobered, and for a moment forgot about their battle of wills and the sexual tension and got back down to business. Sure, he was having fun playing with Alana, but there were few things Michael took as seriously as his old club. When it was his. “Originally, Swings was my idea. There were some deficiencies in the London kink and swing scene. It was limited to a few private parties here and there, held in private homes. But as you can imagine—going to a person’s home or someone else’s dungeon opens you up for all kinds of risks. We gave people a place to safely play. But we made it accessible to most people. Not just the super rich. With different price points and levels of membership, our first-tier dues are modest, but the application process is still as intense, and people had to be referred by a member.”
“Did you see any challenges with that? Allowing it to be more open?”
He shrugged. “Everyone deserves to have fun, as long as they follow the rules and respect other people. We had a private area for more well-known patrons, but everyone at all tiers was able to enjoy the facilities. Maybe that’s something we could do here. Increase profits by finding a way for allowing everyone to come here.”
“I wouldn’t start making big plans yet,” she told him.
“Are you so afraid of change?”
She said nothing. Michael sat back and regarded her. The angrier she looked, the more defiant the look in her eyes, the sexier she became, the more he liked it, and it made him smile. She had a tough, cold exterior, but he could see the passion that burned underneath the facade. “Control,” he said.
She blinked, looked startled. “What?” she asked, even though he knew she heard exactly what he’d said.
He grinned. “You get off on control, don’t you?”
Watching Alana as she busied herself with some files on her desk, straightening them in a stack, and then restraightening them, not looking at him, he thought this might be the way to get beneath that tough exterior. She didn’t respond.
“Am I right?” he prodded. “You like to show you’re in charge, no matter where you are, don’t you?”
“What are you doing?” Alana’s voice was low.
He shrugged. “I’m just trying to get to know my new boss. Tell me what you’re into. When you go downstairs, where do you go? The dungeon?” He thought about it, and shook his head. “No, I don’t think you’re a dungeon woman. Orgy rooms? I have to say no again, because I don’t see you having fun unless you are in complete control. A fem domme?” he asked himself, knowing she wouldn’t answer. He nodded in appreciation at the thought. “Well, that’s intriguing.” He had to admit, he liked to be in charge, but he might seriously let Alana call the shots if she wanted to. Perhaps. Maybe once. Then he would show her exactly how he liked to be in control.
“You are seriously skating on the line of a sexual harassment suit,” she warned him. “I don’t know how you ran things in London, but we have a professional place of business here. We keep our extracurricular activities separate from work, and we expect the same from our staff. So, if you expect to have a future here, I recommend you remember that.”
“I will. And I respect your policies.” That part was true, but that didn’t mean he was done prodding her. “You’re definitely not a woman who likes to be told what to do, are you?”
“You’re unbelievable.” She shook her head, and closed her eyes. He knew she was losing patience with him. And he loved it. “This interview isn’t going particularly well.”
He grinned, still desperate to break through her walls and see the passion he knew was underneath. “Depends on who you ask, I guess. But I’ve already got the job, remember? Tell me how you like to be in charge.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with this.”
Michael pushed himself up from the couch, and took the step to stand in front of her desk. Flattening his palms on the desktop, he leaned over it and watched her. Her eyes were widened with surprise, her pupils dilated as they locked on his. Her shoulders heaved with her deep breaths. Every one of her actions, the micromovements of her face exhibited desire. He knew she wanted him.
“I think it has quite a bit to do with us.”
She blinked. “Us?” Her laugh was more of a coughing sound, and she looked away from him briefly, as if she were trying to hang on to the control that he was pulling from her grasp. But she looked up, confident, and he could see that she was still holding her own. Alana Carter was a formidable opponent. A coldness came over her eyes. “Let’s get this straight, Michael. I might run an erotic club, which my partners may have hired you for, but my own sexual proclivities are none of your business. As for us, I’m your boss. You’re my employee. And I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, or what it is you’re trying to prove coming in here and swinging your big old dick around,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But there is no us.
“And as for you thinking you’re going to come in here and fluster me, throw me off guard, dominate me,” she ground out, “whatever your goal is here, it isn’t going to work. Every single day, men come in here and think they’re going to have their way with me—in the boardroom, the job site, the bedroom—but every time I make sure to let them know just how wrong, how small, they are.” She drew her pink tongue over her top teeth. “And they never try again.”
“You sure about that?”
Alana’s laugh was humorless, and held an edge of malice. Although she was at least a foot shorter than him, she faced him. “Look at the set of balls on you,” she said, her voice a dangerous whisper. “You think you can stroll on in here and presume to run my club. I know a man who looks like you, carries himself like you is used to having women fall at your feet, ready to do whatever you want. But listen to me, buddy, I’m not like those women. I will break you down, piece by piece, and completely dismember you.” She jutted her chin in his direction. “And I’ll keep those big balls of yours in a jar in my Birkin bag.”
A slight shiver crawled up Michael’s spine. Impressed and a little frightened of the woman in front of him, he stepped back from her. “You’re good.”
“I know,” she said, a self-satisfied grin spreading across her face as she crossed her arms. “So, don’t think you’re going to beat me, or that I’ll give up control of my club that easily.” Her smile turned full, revealing straight white teeth behind ruby red lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And you want some advice before you go?” she asked. “I promise, it’ll make your day a little easier.”
“And what’s that?”
She leaned close so that their lips were only inches apart. He could taste her sweet breath. “The dry cleaning place closes at six,” she whispered. “You’d better leave now if you hope to make it.”
Michael looked at her, then at the tags he’d put on the desk. He wasn’t her errand boy, and that wasn’t how their business relationship was going to work. But when he saw the defiant set of her jaw, he knew it wasn’t a fight that he was going to win that day. He snatched up the tags in his fist. “Fine. Anything else?”
“No. See Cameron outside, he’ll call you a car.”
“I have a car.” Michael glared, and turned on his heel. Walking out, he looked over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow,” he promised. It would be a new day to do battle with the woman in front of him. Even though she had the power to destroy him—so help him, God—he was looking forward to it. He’d never been a masochist, but when it came to Alana, he was certain that she could convince him. If he didn’t lower her resistance first, that is.
“Tomorrow. Bright and early,” she told him, an all-too-sweet smile adorning her cynical lips.
Michael vowed to revisit the conversation. Another time. Right now, he had some dry cleaning to pick up for the boss lady. If she thought she’d won the battle, however, she was sorely mistaken. He left her office, slamming the door behind him.
Alana may have won that round. But the war wasn’t over.
Alana stared at the closed door for a while before she was able to breathe again. And when she did, the air escaped her lungs in a quick rush. “Oh, fuck me,” she said aloud to her empty office. The words shot out, unabated, as they’d been on the tip of her tongue, and were the same words she’d almost found herself saying to Michael Paul, her newest employee. The man was arrogant, imposing, annoying, condescending, thought he could take her down, and he’d even had the nerve to try to manipulate her with sex. But what surprised Alana the most was that she also found him to be completely irresistible.
The heat returned to her cheeks, and it had nothing to do with her supposed medical issue, but with a pure, carnal desire for a man she knew could make her life extremely difficult. Save his cocky attitude—which was due for a serious adjustment—Michael would have been just her type. And when he’d grilled her on her sex life, which was completely inappropriate in a workplace setting, he’d absolutely nailed her, and what she liked.
Control. Power. They were the things that she carried with her throughout her life, and not solely in the bedroom. Alana held on to her business with a tight grip, and she wasn’t quite prepared to pass it over to some man she didn’t even know. Who thought he could stroll in and turn her life completely upside down.
But God. Just his presence had had an effect on her. Clenching her thighs together to alleviate the pressure that had built there, she took deep breaths until she was able to think about anything but him again. What had happened to her? One moment, she was sitting behind her desk, ready to send Michael Paul packing back to London. The next, the tall, dark Adonis had made her melt into a puddle on her chair.
Inhaling, she could still smell him—his spicy cologne, his essence. Even though he’d gone, he was still in her office. Like he’d invaded the place, and refused to leave. She had to find a way to get him out of her building, and the hell away from her, before she found herself underneath him.
