As she turns slightly from where she’s lying across my desk, the dim lights of the city shine through the large paned glass windows and cast shadows along her tempting curves. She is my safety, my temple of solitude, my everything. At this moment, I’m far too aware of what she means to me.
“Yes,” she speaks confidently, raising her voice as the amber liquid is poured into the first glass. “I was just thinking that I never would have imagined we’d have …” she pauses, her chest rising and falling with a single breath before carefully placing herself in front of me. The bottle sits to the left of her, and both glasses are to the right. “This,” she finishes. With Suzette seated on my desk, her bare feet planted on my chair between my spread legs, her ass balanced on the edge and her breasts directly at my eye level, I have to tilt my chin up to meet her gaze.
The little vixen smirks. She knows what she does to me. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen for her until it was too late.
It was nothing more than a game at first. I don’t know when it all changed and turned into “this,” as she put it. I don’t know when it became what it is, but now that I have it, I don’t want to lose it.
Can I believe how we started? Did I know it would turn into this?
“No,” I say, giving her the answer I know she wants to hear. Her simper and huff of a laugh warm the coldest depths of me, but they’re quick to freeze the moment she hands me the cut crystal tumbler of whisky.
I sip it regardless, because she wants me to and because as I do she indulges herself, relaxing and confiding in me. It’s all I want, for as long as I can have it.
She has no idea that everything is going to change only hours from now. I’m the only one suffering of the two of us. I can only imagine the betrayal she’ll feel tomorrow when the headlines reveal the truth in black and white.
With the soft hum of a satisfied woman, Suzette leans forward, lowering her lips and positioning them right there for the taking. The glass landing with a hollow thunk on the maple desk is the only sound in the room besides the raging of my blood pounding in my veins. A moment passes, the heat blistering in her gorgeous gaze as if she can see through me. My stomach sinks and a sick feeling takes over in only a split second as her head tilts and an unasked question seems to linger at her lips.
I act before I let on that anything is wrong. My kiss is nothing shy of ruthless. I don’t hold back a damn thing. I take exactly what I want from her because I know, in the depths of my soul, it will be our last time together. Tomorrow, she’ll want nothing to do with me. Nipping her bottom lip, I take advantage of that sweet mouth of hers when her lips part with a provocative moan.
“I want you again,” I confess to her in a low groan that rumbles up my chest. Both her hands have gripped my shoulders so it’s no surprise when her nails dig into my skin and she calls out in surprise as I grab her ass off the edge, pushing her back flat against the desk so I can take her again as I have a dozen times or more.
I have to have her at least once more. One more time where she’s mine. Where we have this … before I lose it all when the sun rises.
Adrian
One month earlier
* * *
My polished Oxfords smack on the sleek marble tile. The floors are the only thing that look expensive in the foyer of this building. It’s old and dated just like their business practices. But that’s all about to change now that I’m in charge.
Although I keep my expression neutral, maybe cold, as I make my way to the elevator and then to the top floor where the conference room is located, I smirk to myself as I hear the soft whispers and see the secretaries huddling together.
They know who I am. Everyone who’s anyone does.
Asshole. Prick. Hell, I’ve even been called a villain. And I couldn’t care less.
I pull at the sleeves to my suit and fix my cufflinks before opening the glass door. A dozen people instantly still as I walk into the room, one swivel chair squeaking as everyone goes silent. The conference room smells like the lemon polish the cleaners use on the large oval mahogany table.
That’ll be the first thing to replace. The table needs to be glass so I can monitor their body language with every meeting. My father says I was blessed with two gifts: reading people and placing bets. As a gambling man with a head for stocks and companies, I know damn well he was right. And I’ve left a sea of people who hate me for it in my wake.
I didn’t get to where I am by being nice.
I’m the boss, the CEO, the owner of whatever I want. And right now, that includes every person in this building. Straightening my tie, I remind myself I’ll have to cull the herd sooner, rather than later. For the sake of both profits and efficiency. The numbers never lie; people always do, though.
“Good afternoon,” I say, greeting them as Mr. Holt stands from his spot just to the right of the head of the table, which is empty. No one’s seated there because it’s reserved for me.
“Mr. Bradford, it’s nice to see you again,” Jonathan Holt says as he shakes my hand. He’s the former owner and now a wealthy man.
A nondisclosure agreement was signed. No one knew I’ve been the acting CEO for the last quarter. Every email, every camera feed, every contract and meeting was passed through my team. They had a quarter to prove to me this company is worth salvaging.
Not that Holt gave a fuck. He was getting paid regardless. With a tailored gray suit and fresh shave, he’s already a lighter, wealthier man than he was when I first met him six months ago to negotiate this deal.
As my eyes skim across each of the members I’ve invited for this meeting, half likely to stay, half likely to leave, a gorgeous woman catches my interest. She’s in a skintight, bloodred dress that matches her perfectly manicured nails. I’ve seen her wear it before, if I’m not mistaken. Twice, and this makes the third. The third time is the charm.
I already know who she is before she dares to stare back at me with an openly hateful look.
Suzette Parks. Passionate. Dedicated. And hot as hell. I can’t help the smirk that slips into place when she meets my gaze directly, daring me to call her out. I’ve witnessed her lose her patience, all alone in her office, on the brink of losing it. Entertaining isn’t enough of a description. I wanted nothing more than to push her against the wall and fuck the frustration out of her. My cock stirs just thinking about how her nails would dig into my back. She’s wound tight but not easily shaken. No matter what happens to this company, I’ll be damn sure to keep stock of my little vixen.
She’s the first to back down and break eye contact. At the same time, the door closes behind me thanks to Mr. Holt, and it signals the beginning of the meeting.
My smile widens and I cover it with my fist, clearing my throat and getting a grip. I knew she’d distract me, I knew she’d get under my skin but I wasn’t prepared to be this … off-balance.
I begin, still standing, and Mr. Holt follows suit. He nearly takes his seat but stands upright when I speak. “I’ll make this short. Last quarter was unimpressive and changes will be drastic. That will include layoffs and budget cuts, but is not limited to other necessities. I will rely on each of you selected from your teams for this advertising management firm.” I meet all eleven of them eye to eye as I speak. Noting which ones nod, and which ones tense up. I’m not surprised in the least until I get to Ms. Parks, who doesn’t bother to peer up. As I speak, her attention is on the pen in her hand. It’s an ink pen with a sleek silver body and it silently taps against her leatherbound book. No notes are being taken.
My voice is harder when I state, “I don’t believe in failure. Even mistakes are lessons.” The quote I’ve heard her say a dozen times in the last month rewards me with her icy blue gaze. That’s better.
I hold her there, pinning her down as I let a second pass and then another. I can practically feel the temperature rise in the room as she struggles not to squirm. The fucking table should have been replaced already.
“Unless you have anything you’d
like to say, Mr. Holt,” I say and gesture toward the man. He shakes his head, his thin lips pressed in a straight line. “I don’t have anything to add,” he states and glances across the room.
I don’t miss Ms. Parks’s hardened expression toward him as well. Good. I’m not the only one she blames.
“Meeting adjourned.” I remain where I am, standing tall and watching them disperse while what I was supposed to say comes back to me. I have every name memorized and anger rises inside of me that I didn’t make it clear to them I know every detail and statistic that matters. My jaw clenches and with that, they move faster, nodding and giving short waves as they leave.
The annoyance morphs into something else as I peer back at Ms. Parks, the pen tapping harder. She hasn’t budged.
“Did you want to say something?” I question her lowly. The last two men in the room pause where they are beside Mr. Holt. Jeffries and Woods. Both were seated farthest away, both paused to my left. Woods knows what he’s doing but he’s far too casual with clients. I’ll be surprised if the threat of a severance package turns his performance around.
In her silence, I add, “You look like you have something to say.”
“Adrian Bradford,” she states, looking me in the eyes and giving me a tight smile, “we all know why you’re here.”
For the first time today, I let my emotion come through, simply raising a brow in curiosity. “Is that so?” I ask her.
“You want the company,” she says matter-of-factly and then sits back. It’s a confident move on her part as if she knows my cards.
“You’re very astute,” I say clearly condescendingly, and I love how she raises a brow back.
“To rip apart,” she adds and then pushes her chair back, standing up and letting me finally see her curves in person. The short red dress rides up just a bit too high on her left thigh, exposing more of her skin and teasing me. I’m usually able to keep my focus, but for her, I let my gaze slip.
She yanks it down.
“Leave my department alone. I won’t let anyone ruin it,” she warns. Warns me. Like this is a tit for tat. Like she has any authority at all in this game we’re playing.
“If I want to ruin something …” I pause to adjust my stance slightly as I take another long look at this woman.
“You can try all you’d like, Adrian.” The faint smile on her face when my expression hardens upon hearing her use my first name only adds to the insult.
“Suzette Parks, correct?”
Suzette. I taste her name on my tongue. I love everything about it, from the way it rolls off my lips to the manner in which it lingers there, tempting and taunting me.
She offers a nod and that’s all, swallowing down her spite and leaving the room.
“Is she typically so … combative?” I ask Mr. Holt as the glass door slams shut so hard that I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had shattered. I haven’t been on the receiving end of her wrath, but damn if it doesn’t make me harder than steel for her.
Jonathan clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable as he shifts his weight where he stands, gripping the back of the chair. “I apologize, sir,” he tells me, but that’s not the answer to the question I asked.
“Not a worry at all,” I comment, not bothering to look back at him as he rambles on. Instead I watch her go, loving that she can’t get away from me. Loving that I’ll be seeing more of her any damn time I please.
Suzette
How fucking dare he.
How dare this man who doesn’t know a single thing about me get to me the way he did? The way his piercing gaze seemed to see through me made my entire body heat. He pinned me where I stood. I felt the intensity of his hunger ignite through every nerve ending in my body, rendering me paralyzed.
I couldn’t even speak, let alone look at him. It was embarrassing. Every little thing I did in that room was horribly embarrassing. I’ll apologize, only because it’s the professional thing to do, but I’m not backing down. My team is worth saving, worth keeping. If he dares to fuck with me … I swallow thickly, knowing there’s not much I can do to stop him, but he’s going to hear every reason why he needs to back down before he ruins what I’ve spent a decade building.
I’ve heard rumors about him. All he does is rip apart things that aren’t profitable, selling them off or merging what’s worth salvaging with other companies. Adrian Bradford is a death sentence. He’s my worst enemy come to life and I despise Holt for leaving me in this man’s hands.
Steadying my breath, I raise my hand and form a fist at his door. One breath in, and I can’t even knock. My knuckles graze the wood and I can’t bring myself to do it. “Fucking hell,” I mutter beneath my breath.
How has he gotten under my skin the way he has? I’m a strong woman. I pride myself on it. And yet here I am, cowering in front of a closed door.
It makes me hate him all the more.
It’s not just the way he looks at me. Shaking off the anxiousness, the pent-up anger, and the desperate need to get out the rage boiling inside of me, I try yet again.
I’ll blame the hell I went through last night for being so shaken.
If I wasn’t so shocked, if I wasn’t so sleep deprived, if I wasn’t so passionate about everything that has to do with this job, storming into his office would be easy.
I know every nook and cranny of this business. When I got here, I knew nothing and quickly discovered the upper-level executives knew even less. Holt was a trust fund baby in over his head. I climbed a steep learning curve and brought my team with me.
How dare he come in here and think that he can take everything away from me? Everything that I’ve worked for. Everything that we’ve earned.
With an audible exhale, I nod. That’s right; that’s what I need to be focused on.
With another deep breath, I straighten my spine.
The image of him standing at the head of the conference table is burned into my memory. The hint of a five-o’clock shadow showing already. His dark gray, perfectly tailored suit and sharp jaw. He’s like the devil—charming and wicked; threatening yet thrilling. There’s a power beneath him that’s undeniable. A thought creeps into my mind. Even if he was stripped bare of every expensive fabric that graced his lean but muscular frame, even then, I imagine that man would look expensive as hell. It’s not wealth, it’s something else. Something entirely different than what I’m used to.
All of these men can walk around in whatever designer suit they’d like but they’d still look cheap. They wouldn’t know their dicks from the pens they use to sign away their inheritances. And yet here’s a man, the first one I’ve seen in a long damn time since my divorce has been settled, who makes all of those bastards who have hit on me, who have expected things from me simply because of their bank accounts, look like the arrogant pricks they are.
Every man I’ve ever laid eyes on in all of New York City pales in comparison to Adrian Bradford. And I was safely surrounded by others, in the light of day, for a total of less than ten minutes.
Here I stand, outside his door, daring to get closer to him and all alone, after hours … this door will remain wide open so long as I’m here. That’s for damn sure. There’s not a soul on this level and truth be told, I’m not even sure he’s in this room. It’s Holt’s former office and the top floor was reserved for him and meetings only. So … even if this door was open, we’d still be alone.
With my blood heating and my nerves running high, no matter how much I’d like them not to, I imagine what he’ll do. I imagine Adrian saying the kind of things that have been said to me in the past by men who have held power over me, like my husband used to, and it has a completely different effect on me today than it ever has before. The very idea of it turns workplace harassment from a lawsuit waiting to happen, into late-night thoughts in bed I share with my vibrator.
Knock, knock, knock.
My hand trembles at my side, but I hold my ground.
Raising my voice, I call out, “Adrian, I’
d like—” The door opens far too quickly. I’m left with my mouth hanging open, my words spoken far too loudly and the rest of whatever I was going to say jumbled at the back of my throat.
My heart races as I realize just how close to this man I am. It’s no longer a thought, it’s reality. He’s a man who intimidates me. Not only because of his power, of him merely being in this building and what that means. But also because of what he does to me simply by existing. It’s sinful, it’s wrong. I fucking hate it.
“Ms. Parks.”
Fuck.
My name sounds positively sinful in the rumble of his baritone voice. His steely gaze never leaves mine as I stand there, once again paralyzed. Taking one step back, barely giving me enough room to come in, he motions with his right hand, his left hand holding the doorframe. I break the hold he has me under, shifting my attention to the wall of windows behind his desk.
They’re paned windows running from floor to ceiling, and the city is vibrant behind them. I know from experience it’s loud as hell far down from this high-rise. But right now, this sight could be a painting, a beautiful masterpiece of a deep blue sky turning a dusky gray with silver buildings that creep into the clouds, the yellow squares of illuminated office windows slowly bringing light to the incoming night.
I’ve never stepped foot in this office before. I’ve never been invited here by Holt, I only knew it was his office. From here on out he’ll be known as the asshole who took a hefty paycheck instead of giving this company what it truly needed. Essentially, he got a get-out-of-jail-free card and we got … Adrian Bradford.
The room is sparsely furnished. A hardwood maple desk carved with intricate detail catches my eye first. From the smell of lemon in the air, it’s been freshly polished. A dark auburn leather wingback chair sits at its head, with two high-back lounge chairs across from it.
Other than that, the vast room is empty, with blank walls that have been freshly painted as if it were brand new. In other words, on the market for the new buyer.
Tell Me You Want Me Page 2
