His Secretary: Undone and Unveiled (The Complete Series Collection)

by Melanie Marchande

  A woman with long, silky dark hair and an accommodating smile comes over to shake my hand. Her name tag says Siobhan.

  “Welcome, Natalie,” she says. “We’re so glad to have you here. Your editor’s already here, he’s been helping us set everything up the way you like.”

  So he is. I see him now, in the crowd, and he narrows his eyes as I approach. Probably because I’m holding the side of my skirt again, to cover up for the fact that I’m actually holding my panties. Whether or not he’s clued in to the impending wardrobe malfunction, he knows something is wrong. But there’s no way in hell I’m confiding in him about my panty problems.

  I sit down quickly, hitching them up as I do, hoping it’s not noticeable.

  “There’s already a line forming around the entire hall,” Siobhan beams. “Most of them are here for you.”

  A terrifying prospect, to be sure.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll manage the lines and make sure that no one hassles you. Take breaks whenever you need them. You’ll be talking a lot, so it’s not uncommon to start losing your voice by the end of the day. I got you some Halls, but I recommend hot tea with lots of lemon and honey before bed tonight.”

  I nod, trying to take it all in. I haven’t even considered the possibility of losing my voice - that might get in the way of my panel tomorrow.

  “Most importantly, have fun!” She’s practically squealing. “You’re going to love this, Natalie. I’m so glad you came.”

  I force a smile, hoping that my awkwardness comes across as…well, awkwardness. Not deception. The last thing I want to do is fuck up this thing. Adrian’s already boring holes in me with his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he mutters, as Siobhan runs off to settle someone else in.

  “Nothing,” I tell him, rolling my shoulders back and cracking my knuckles. “Why would something be wrong?”

  “First of all, you shouldn’t wear a skirt that short if you’re going to act like you’re afraid it’s going to fly up.” His voice is low and captivating, even though he’s trying to tell me off. Or maybe that’s why it’s captivating. “It’s like wearing a strapless dress and constantly tugging on it. Looks amateur. You don’t want to look amateur.”

  “Who pissed in your Cheerios?” I mutter, even though I’m pretty sure I know the answer. Kara’s nowhere to be found. They must’ve had some kind of disagreement that’s led to his enchanting mood this morning.

  “Secondly,” he says, ignoring me, “I had no idea where you were this morning. You didn’t even text.”

  “Uh, neither did you.” Are we really having this conversation? “I read the schedule, I read the emails, I knew where I had to go.”

  “I shouldn’t have to check in,” he hisses. “You’re here working for me. Don’t forget it.”

  Oh my God, he’s acting like a child. But at least this version of Adrian, I know how to deal with.

  “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.” I test out one of my pens.

  A bubbly, smiling blonde takes her seat at the table a few feet from mine. Her name tag says Isabella Duncan, Paranormal Romance.

  “Hey!” She sticks out her hand to me. “Natalie McBride, wow. It’s so great to meet you! I’m Izzy. I’m actually moderating your panel tomorrow.”

  “Call me Nat,” I tell her, almost solely because I feel like it’ll annoy Adrian. “That’s great - it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Is this your first rodeo?” she asks me.

  “Kind of. I did one signing before. A small one. Not like this.” I can already hear the echo of many voices as the line starts to get rambunctious.

  “Oh, you’re gonna love it. Everyone’s just so happy to see you. But don’t let it go to your head.” She winks at me.

  Oh, if only you knew.

  I think my hand might be permanently cramped into a claw.

  The crowds have dissipated, and I’m trying to forcibly remind myself that I am Not. Natalie. McBride. In spite of everything, Izzy was right to warn me. It’s hard to see that many people so excited to meet you, without letting it go to your head a little bit.

  Adrian’s stepped away to mutter on his phone to someone, most likely Kara, so I turn back to Izzy with a rueful smile. “Well, we survived.”

  “See? Wasn’t it great?” She’s shaking some feeling back into her hand. “So are you going to the party tonight?”

  “There’s a party?”

  She nods vigorously. “Oh, yeah. My publisher’s sponsoring it, but it’s open to everybody. There’s going to be some cover models there taking pictures, and you can even get custom poses done. Super hot guys, free booze, it’s a win all around. Everybody’s gonna be there.”

  “Um, I don’t know.” I clear my throat, and reach for one of the cough drops Siobhan left for me. “I do have that panel…”

  “Not until the afternoon.” She rolls her eyes. “Come on, you can have a few drinks.”

  “Okay. I guess.”

  “Great!” She bounces to her feet. “I’ll see you there. I gotta run - I have to meet someone for lunch.”

  Adrian’s missed all this conversation, which I’m grateful for. I know, without having to ask, he’ll have some choice words if he finds out that I’m planning on attending. It’s none of his business, really, I’m doing everything he’s told me to do, and I’m doing it well. But he’s already irritated over something else, so this is almost guaranteed to become a thing.

  Just once, I want to have a little fun without Adrian somehow ruining it. Is that too much to ask?

  The last panel session of the day has just ended. It’s not quite dinnertime, so I’m having wine and tapas with Adrian, at the overcrowded hotel bar that seems incredibly ill-prepared for this event, like someone just reminded them about it yesterday. We haven’t managed to get table service once, but Adrian doesn’t seem to mind going up and flirting with the bartender to get things. Doesn’t even have to wave his wallet around for special treatment, that one. It would be impressive if it wasn’t so disgusting.

  I watch Adrian spear an olive on a toothpick and chew it thoughtfully. I haven’t mentioned that I’m going to the party; I keep telling myself it’s not important, but I know that’s not the reason why.

  We’re still talking about a workshop we sat through earlier, with one of the rare male romance authors who will actually show his face at these events and own up to his gender. Most of the women swooned over him, but I found his viewpoints on the genre to be pretty off-base.

  “I mean, seriously, I’m so sick of hearing that thing about how ‘women can just get sex whenever they want.’” I polish off my wine and grab the bottle. “It’s not even close to true.”

  “You have to admit he has a point,” Adrian says. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it literally, but the average woman can go out and find casual sex much more easily than the average man. Are you really suggesting that’s not the case?”

  I just snort. “Yeah. Right. I’m pretty sure he could go out and have sex any time he wants, too. It’s just not the sex he’d prefer to have, with the person he’d prefer to have it with. And that’s an experience all of us are familiar with.” I glance over my drink, at Adrian’s stormy eyes. “Except you, of course.”

  He laughs a little, shaking his head. “You have a lot of strange ideas about my life.”

  “Please. Are you telling me you can’t get any woman you want, any time you want?” I’m rolling my eyes, aware that I’m being hyperbolic and also maybe a little bit too revealing of my personal feelings about Adrian and his tight abs. Oh, well. It’s too late to turn back now.

  He quirks an eyebrow and I realize, too late, that I’m about to regret having this conversation. “All right, then,” he says smoothly. “You and me. Right now. Let’s go.”

  I’m blushing so deep red, I can practically feel it glowing off of my skin. “That doesn’t count!” I insist.

  “Why not?” As he takes a swallow of his whiskey, I notice the playful glint in his eyes. I’m
just not quite sure what it means. “Because it’s you?”

  “Because you’re not trying.”

  His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Do you want me to try?”

  “God, no,” I mutter, into the rim of my glass. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch someone waving at me. It’s Izzy, I realize, letting me know the party is about to get started. I take another sip of my drink and stand up.

  “Well, I’m supposed to go hang out with Izzy from the signing,” I tell him, but I can already tell he’s not buying it. The back of my neck starts to get hot, and I take a deep breath. “So, I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early. We can go over the panel stuff.”

  “Hang out with Izzy?” he echoes. “This wouldn’t happen to be at the topless man mixer, would it?”

  “I dunno.” I shrug, even as my face turns bright red. “What mixer?”

  His fingers are drumming on the table.

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes. “I’m going to the damn mixer. With the cover models. Everybody is going to be there, it seems stupid to miss out on it.”

  Adrian’s face twists with irritation. “Do I need to remind you that you’re here working for me? This isn’t for fun.”

  “So are you forbidding me to go? Are you gonna hold back my paycheck?” I fold my arms across my chest. “I could just lock myself in my room for the rest of the conference, or better - I could tell everyone…”

  “Are you threatening me?” His eyes darken.

  “No,” I tell him, lightly. “Just reminding you of the possibilities.”

  With that, I walk out. He can spend the night with Kara if he wants to. Me, I’m going to have some fun.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I’M DOING A damn good job of pacing myself, if I do say so.

  There are three hot cowboys, a hot firefighter, a hot soldier, and a hot rockstar. Basically everyone in the room is drooling to get pictures with them, but I can’t imagine what I’d do with something like that. Still, I want to keep my wits about me. Much as I hate to admit it, Adrian was right about that. I can’t get too drunk while I’m here, or I might forget who I’m supposed to be.

  “So you’re Natalie McBride, huh?” One of the cowboys sidles up to me. I feel like I’m dying a little more inside every time I answer in the affirmative to that question, but I’ve got no choice.

  “Yep!” I say, cheerfully. “Having a good time?”

  He nods. “My wife loves your books. So, you know.” He grins meaningfully. “Thanks.”

  Oh, boy. “Hey, that’s great. You want me to sign a book for her? I’ve got a couple copies in my bag.”

  “That would be great!” He enthuses. “Man, she’s gonna love this. Thanks. You can make it out to Linda.”

  Hot cowboy’s definitely getting lucky when he goes home. I can’t imagine someone who looks like him has a lot of issues with that, but he’s holding that book like it’s the holy grail.

  Word’s started to spread, apparently, and suddenly the hot soldier sidles over and asks for a picture with me. Izzy shows up out of nowhere, her eyes getting like saucers when she realizes what’s going on.

  “Holy crap,” she mutters, as a few of the other guys wander over. “I was just gonna ask how you’re doing. Obviously, just fine.”

  The music is getting louder, and the rockstar asks me if I want to dance. At first I laugh, thinking he’s fucking around, but then I realize that he’s not.

  I’m barely tipsy, and my panties and I have struck an uneasy truce. This is probably a bad idea. But I let him grab my hand and pull me to an empty part of the floor, because getting the kind of attention I want from Adrian from a stranger instead isn’t ideal, but it’s something.

  People are snapping pictures and video, and giggling, and there’s no way even Adrian’s PR machine can keep a lid on this. I don’t think he wants my face attached to Natalie McBride in any public, permanent way, but it’s way too late for that now.

  I’m spinning around the room, and I can feel some lightness in my chest, finally. So what if Adrian’s probably with Kara right now, doing God knows what? I’ve got a damn male model putting his hands all over me, and that’s not a phrase I ever thought I’d say.

  Shaking and shimmying, I can’t believe the panties have stayed in place. It’s almost like they know. Finally, we’ve come to an understanding.

  As that thought flies through my head, I feel something slip.

  And fall.

  All the way.

  I stumble backwards, staring down at my panties around my ankles, kicking them free as if that helps any. Like it’s better if they’re not attached to me. Like nobody’s gonna remember where those damn panties in the middle of the floor came from.

  “WARDROBE MALFUNCTION!” someone shrieks, spilling her drink as she makes a dramatic gesture. My face is burning, and I’m just staring at the offending garment, trying to figure out what the fuck to do.

  “Don’t worry.” Izzy’s voice is in my ear. “Nobody’s even gonna remember this tomorrow.”

  A nice sentiment, but she’s not quite right.

  Out of nowhere, a sleek, be-suited figure leans forward and snatches my panties off the ground. My mouth freezes halfway open, a noise of protest dying in my throat when I realize it’s Adrian.

  And he’s glaring at me.

  “Natalie,” he says, with forced calmness. “You’ve got an early panel tomorrow. Time to get some shut-eye, don’t you think?”

  Now, all eyes have turned from me to him. I should be grateful, but instead, I’m just super fucking pissed that he thinks it’s okay to talk to me like I’m a child.

  “We have to go over your talking points,” he says, laying his hand on my shoulder and steering me towards the door. “Come on.”

  “Sorry, everyone,” I mutter over my shoulder. From the sounds of it, the party’s moving on without me. And not even Izzy has the courage to drag me out of Adrian’s grip to say a proper goodbye.

  He’s totally silent on the way back to our adjoining rooms. Once we get to his door, he has to stab the key in several times before the light goes green, and he curses softly before it finally gives.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he demands, as the door clicks behind us. I whirl to face him.

  “Having a good time!” I snap. “Last time I checked, that wasn’t forbidden on our contract.”

  “Really?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my panties, holding them up at my eye level. “This is your idea of having a good time?”

  They’ve come partially unfurled in his hand, and I want to rip them away. I want to beg and plead with him to please stop touching my underwear, because it’s making my heart beat so fast I’m pretty sure I’m going to cardiac arrest.

  “It was an accident,” I half-whisper, my face burning. “They’ve been slipping down all day. I just wanted…”

  His lip twitches, like he wants to sneer at me.

  “What do you think you’re doing, exactly?” he advances on me, stopping just a few inches away. Still holding a fistful of my panties. “You know those men are just trying to drum up business. They don’t care about you.”

  “So what?” I challenge him, feeling bold now, the alcohol still coursing through my veins. “You think all those high-class whores who ride your dick are really fascinated by you as a person?”

  It’s a low blow, and judging by the look on his face, not even close to accurate.

  “Were you going to fuck one of them?” he demands.

  Of course I wasn’t. But for his benefit, I just shrug.

  His nostrils flare. With his eyes still burning into mine, I try to figure it out. Try to understand why he’s so angry.

  What unspoken rule of author conduct I’ve broken.

  But no. That’s not the problem, is it?

  He’s bristling all over, and I can practically smell the testosterone. He saw me giggling with those hot, ripped guys and he was jealous.

&
nbsp; Oh, this is too good.

  My insides are molten jello. My heart’s beating so fast I feel like it’ll break free, and I realize, oh shit, I like that he’s jealous.

  I want him to be jealous.

  He’s still holding my panties.

  “Give those back,” I tell him, softly. “Please.”

  His eyes are very dark. His lips, inches from mine.

  “No,” he whispers.

  I smell the whiskey on his breath. He’s probably been in the hotel bar this whole time, nursing his hurt ego. Imagining all the naughty things I’ve been getting up to at the party.

  Oh, this is rich. I feel giddy. Alive.

  Aroused.

  Licking my lips, I make a move for the panties, but he feints to the side. Holding them above his head, he steps back from me.

  There’s a hint of a wicked smile, but it’s not quite coming to life.

  “Give,” I insist, going after him, but he’s a little too quick for me. He slides out of reach, prowling around the bed to the far corner.

  Instead of chasing him, I take the shortest distance between two points. Which naturally means crawling across the bed to reach him.

  His eyes narrow, and he takes in a sharp breath as I traverse the mattress. When I reach the other side, I make a lunge for him, but he dodges expertly and I land on the floor in a heap.

  “Shit.” He’s kneeling on the floor next to me, brushing the hair from my eyes as I squirm. “Are you okay?”

  Adrian’s eyes fill with concern, and I make a small noise, scrunching my face up in mock pain.

  “Shit,” he says again, forgetting about the panties. Lowering his hand within reach.

  Swift as a striking snake, I grab the panties and jump to my feet. With another curse, he goes after me, stumbling over a pair of his own shoes, but still reaching the connecting door at the exact same moment I do. Blocking it with his body.

  “Bitch,” he growls.

  I grin, holding the panties behind my back.

  “This door’s locked, remember?” he points out, with a wicked glint in his eyes.