Taken by the CEO (The Scandalous Wentworths)

by Stefanie London

  She popped the olive into her mouth and dropped the stick into the glass to free up her hand. When his palm slid against hers, she tried to take a breath.

  But she couldn’t.

  Oh no. This had happened before. Her airways tended to constrict when she was anxious. And right now, she was five seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. Her hand flew to her neck as she tried to swallow. Nothing. She tried to cough, but the olive was stuck in the back of her throat, blocking her air. She held up a hand and turned, thumping a fist down on her chest.

  “Emmaline?” Ariel touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

  Oh God, why is this happening?

  She shook her head and tried to cough again. Her face burned though whether it was from humiliation or lack of air she had no idea.

  “She’s choking!” Ariel thumped a hand down on her back. “Someone get help.”

  Her vision blurred at the edges as tears seeped out of her eyes. Panic had settled in her chest, squeezing her until her lungs wanted to pop.

  Not now, not now, not now.

  “Relax,” Parker’s deep voice broke through the blur. “Try not to tense up.”

  Strong arms wrapped around her, and the solid wall of his chest lined her back. His fist settled above her belly button, and she shut her eyes, trying to cough again. He jerked against her, pressing down on her stomach. Nothing.

  I’m going to die in the arms of my boss, whom I accidentally slept with, while not wearing any underwear to work…just freaking great.

  “I’m going to try again.” His voice was confident, reassuring. But her heart fluttered like a trapped bird.

  With another strong movement, the olive flew out of her mouth. It hit the ground next to Linda’s foot, and the crowd cheered. Air rushed back into her lungs, and Emmaline drew in greedy mouthfuls.

  Thanks for saving me. Now can you let me go so I can leave and never return?

  “Are you okay?” His hand was at her back, all her senses invaded by his closeness.

  “Fine.” Well, except for the fact that she was probably going to get fired once he got back to his office.

  “Let’s give Emmaline some space,” Linda said, shooing away the other people in the room. “She doesn’t need anyone gawking at her.”

  Emmaline’s heart jackhammered in her chest as she looked at Parker. A deep groove had formed between his brows as he watched her with an intensity that made her knees quake. Even looking like some midpoint between perplexed and angry as hell, he was still hot enough to make her lady parts sing with joy.

  What is wrong with you? This is not an appropriate time to be admiring his appearance.

  “Come up to my office,” he said. “I’ll have my assistant call someone to check you out.” Not a question. A demand.

  “Honestly, I’m fine.” She tried to sound casual but her voice was all crackly and squeaky. Rusty, like she’d forgotten how to talk. “I should get back to work.”

  “Not up for negotiation.” He said it so quietly that no one else would have been able to hear it. But irritation burrowed under her skin.

  “I…” Emmaline’s eyes darted toward the exit, and she seriously contemplated making a break for it. But that would be weak, cowardly. And she was done with being those things. “I said I was fine.”

  “I’ll take Emmaline upstairs,” Parker said to Linda, ignoring Emmaline’s protest. “Better safe than sorry.”

  “Good idea.” Linda nodded.

  All eyes were on her as Parker started off in the direction of the exit. Swallowing her pride, she followed him with all the confidence she could muster. The trip up to the executive floor was conducted in excruciating silence. Though, whether that was because he was giving her space to recover from the choking incident or because he was plotting how to fire her, she had no idea.

  Parker got off the elevator and strode toward his office without waiting to see if she would follow. Emmaline shook her head—her ex-husband used to do that. That level of arrogance was reserved for men who’d grown up with the world at their feet.

  You should just quit now, save yourself the humiliation.

  “Mr. Wentworth.” A woman with flaming red hair waved him down. “You’ve got your one-on-one with—”

  “Reschedule it.” His icy tone stopped the woman in her tracks. “I have something urgent to deal with. I’ll advise you when I’m done.”

  He motioned for Emmaline to enter his office. The frosted door was blank. She’d expected it to have something written on it, at least his name or title. For some reason, the lack of any adornment at all made the office seem even more foreboding. Like he was above words.

  Parker pulled off his tie and popped the top button of his shirt as he took a seat behind his desk.

  “Close the door,” he said. “We’ll need privacy for this.”

  Reluctantly, she obliged, trapping herself inside. Was this how a mouse felt when a cat had it backed into a corner? Parker’s eyes slid over to her, and the air evaporated from her lungs. She folded her arms over her chest, desperate for a shield.

  “How’s your throat?” he asked.

  The question took her by surprise. “It’s fine, like I said twice downstairs.”

  “You’re sure?” His dark eyes bored into her.

  “Positive.”

  Everything about his posture screamed power, from the slight spread of his legs to the way he steepled his fingers. His presence dominated the room like he’d known from birth that he was supposed to command respect. He probably had…

  Despite knowing she was about to face the consequences of her actions, his attitude prickled at her. How different he seemed from the breezy, charming guy from last night.

  “So,” he said letting the silence hang awkwardly for a moment. “Imagine my surprise when I turn up to work and find out that the delightful schoolteacher I bedded last night is one of my employees.”

  Emmaline swallowed. “That must have been quite a shock.”

  “Not as shocking as the fact that you’re introduced as Emmaline.” His face gave nothing away.

  “Says you. I thought your name was Parker.”

  “It is.” He cocked his head. “It’s on my birth certificate, but it happens to come second to Edward. Can you say the same thing?”

  She dropped her eyes to the floor. “No.”

  “So you made up a fake name to go along with your fake career. What else did you lie about?”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. “Those were the main things.”

  “Are you married?”

  The question hit her as hard as a slap across the face. “I’m divorced.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Excuse me?” She blinked. “Am I sure I’m not married? Gee, let me think. Nope, still divorced.”

  He pushed up from his chair and came around to the front of the desk. Each step was slow and smooth as though he had all the time in the world. The message was clear—he was in charge. Leaning back against the desk, he crossed his arms.

  “Did you stop me on purpose when I was running? Did you know who I was?”

  “What? No.” She shook her head. “I had no idea.”

  “Did you target me, Emmaline?” His voice was icy, unemotional. “Were you hoping to get something from my family by sleeping with me?”

  Right then, she was sure he wasn’t the passionate man she’d slept with last night. The man who’d teased and flirted with her, who’d opened her eyes up to pleasures beyond anything she’d ever experienced. It was like he’d switched places with a coldhearted doppelgänger.

  “I did not target you.” Her blood boiled. Sure, he had every right to be angry that she’d lied, but that didn’t mean she was malicious.

  “What did you want?”

  “The same thing that you did, a night of fun and hopefully an orgasm.” The words came out in an angry rush, but they only served to make her even more aware of how her body reacted to him—the heat in her cheeks, the prickling awareness ru
nning up and down her spine.

  “Just one?” He quirked a brow, and some of the hardness disappeared from his eyes.

  The pleasurable feelings had blurred into one another until she wasn’t sure where one touch stopped and another began. She couldn’t have tallied them up even if she’d wanted to.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to be such an overachiever,” she said tartly. “Gold star for you.”

  “That’s no way to talk to your boss.”

  Frustration prickled along her skin. “You won’t be my boss for much longer,” she said. “So just fire me already. I’d like to go home.”

  “I’m not going to fire you.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “To make sure that our history won’t affect either one of our jobs.”

  “History,” she scoffed. “One night doesn’t make history. And if I had known who you were, then I wouldn’t have done a damn thing. How was I supposed to know you had two names?”

  “How was I supposed to know you were using a fake identity to lure a man into bed?” His lips quirked. “As much as I’ll keep thinking about how incredible it was with you, I don’t usually get involved with my employees.”

  A warm flush spread through her, making her clothes feel too hot. Too constricted.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” she said, swallowing.

  Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her dress but she snatched them away when his eyes lingered. He would know that she wore nothing underneath, that he could easily slip a hand up her thigh and brush his fingers against the spot where she was already tight and achy.

  “We’ll both have to be on our best behavior.” The fiery look in his eyes belied the cool, calm words. “Last night will be our little secret.”

  “Good. I don’t want anyone to know about it, either.”

  That was one thing she knew for certain. Sleeping with the boss by accident was bad enough, being the center of the rumor mill would be even worse. For once in her life she was chasing success on her own, and she would not give people a reason to doubt how she’d gotten there.

  “Now, is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Wentworth?”

  “I only want the best people working for me, Emmaline.” He said her name slowly, as if testing the taste and feel of it on his tongue. “Having talented employees is something I feel strongly about.”

  “As you should.”

  A smile curled on his lips, his hazel eyes drinking her in. “Excellent. Mercy will set up a meeting so you can walk me through our employee engagement scores.”

  “I’m sure there will be someone better suited to—”

  “There won’t.” He turned and walked back to his desk, signaling that the conversation was over. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  So much for a risk-free, no-strings one-night stand.

  …

  Parker watched as Emmaline left his office, her long, reed-like legs exposed by the short dress he’d peeled from her body last night. She’d wrapped those legs around him, clamped her thighs against his head as he’d buried his face between them. They were silkier than any ice cream, smooth and soft and supple.

  He reached down to adjust himself, cursing aloud. Taunting her like that would not do him any good, nor would fabricating a meeting so he could ensure that he’d see her again.

  You’re keeping an eye on her, that’s all. Making sure she doesn’t seize the opportunity to ruin your reputation before you’ve even had the chance to make changes around here.

  Perhaps if he told himself that enough times, it would stick.

  “Mr. Wentworth?” Mercy’s voice came over the intercom. “I’ve got Sydney Wentworth here to see you. Your next meeting is in fifteen minutes.”

  “Send her in.”

  A second later the door swung open and his little sister sauntered in. She wore an electric blue dress and had a pearl as big as a Christmas ornament hanging from her neck. Her long, dark hair hung in styled waves down to her waist, and a tiny handbag—that no doubt cost as much as a car—hung from the crook of one elbow.

  “Do I need an appointment to see my own brother?” she said with a smile. “Now that you’re a big, important CEO and all.”

  “No appointment necessary.”

  Sydney dropped down into one of the leather chairs on the other side of his desk. “Tell me, how does it feel to be the big man in charge? I never thought I’d see the day that Dad retired.”

  “It was mostly introductions today, and I’m sure that’s what the rest of the week will look like,” he said, choosing to avoid the controversial topic of their father. “The real work won’t start up right away.”

  “I’m sure everything is running in tip-top shape.”

  If there was one thing he could never fault his sister for, it was optimism. Sadly, she didn’t seem to have the same regard for facts.

  “Well, our customer scores have been down the last three quarters, and we’ve experienced increased staff turnover this year. So, I’m not sure ‘tip-top’ is the best description for it.” His lips quirked. “But that’s why I’m here.”

  Her expression was guarded. Sydney might have their mother’s easy smile and high cheekbones, but she had a poker face that had allowed her to clean her brothers out on more than one occasion. “Of course you would say that.”

  “Of course I would say what? The truth?”

  She huffed. “You’re being overly negative because you don’t think Dad did a good job running this place. You take any excuse to shoot him down.”

  Great. Day one on the job and he was already fighting with people about Arthur Wentworth. Though this wasn’t exactly a new thing between him and Sydney. They’d both taken the news about their father’s secret life hard, but Sydney was the ultimate Daddy’s Little Girl, and nothing he did would knock her devotion to him.

  Which made Parker the Big Bad Wolf.

  “Syd, this company means a lot to me. It’s our name at stake here.” He rolled his shoulders, fighting against the tension already building there. “I know we disagree about family stuff, but I want this place to succeed as much as you do. I can’t make that happen if I don’t acknowledge the areas where we need to improve.”

  Her perfectly made-up face scrunched as she considered his words. “I don’t want you coming in here and talking trash about Dad. It makes us look bad.”

  “I’m not talking trash about anyone.” He drew a deep breath. “But I am here to do a job. One that I intend to do well.”

  “You will. You always do.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap. “I…it’s nice to have you home again. I missed you while you were in Boston.”

  He’d missed her, too. It hadn’t helped that he’d left the day after a huge fight. They’d both said some nasty things, but he’d made a promise to himself that he’d bury the hatchet with her. He would not, however, be extending the same courtesy to Arthur.

  “Dad told me he invited you to a family dinner. We try to do it once a month,” she continued, inspecting her nails as though she wasn’t bringing up a potentially explosive conversation topic. “It would be great if you could come. I mean, I know you’re super busy and all, but it would be nice to get everyone together.”

  “You mean everyone except our mother?”

  Her glossy lips pursed. “Well, you can’t expect them to invite her. That would be incredibly awkward.”

  “And us having dinner with our father, his mistress, and their love child wouldn’t be?” He shook his head.

  “They’re married now. I’m not sure that you can still call her his mistress.” She picked at her skirt. “And Beau is older than me. He’s not a child.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Just because they’re playing Brady Bunch doesn’t mean the past is erased.”

  “Can’t you let it go after all these years?” She looked genuinely stricken. “Besides, I thought you liked Beau.”

  “I do, and I don’t blame him for anything. He didn’t ask to be born into
such a shitty situation, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven Arthur…or her.”

  Sydney threw her hands up in the air. “Everyone else has moved on, why can’t you?”

  He bit back a retort. Why was it so hard for her to understand that he couldn’t act like all the pain Arthur had inflicted on their family had never occurred? That he couldn’t forget finding his mother sobbing in her room? That disgust curled in his stomach every time he had to look Arthur in the eye?

  Perhaps it was because Sydney was only fourteen when it happened, whereas Parker had been twenty. Or maybe it was that he’d left Australia as soon as he’d graduated, desperate to put as much distance between him and the whole situation as he could. While Sydney and Ian had stayed behind, cultivating a relationship with their newly acquired half brother, Beau.

  Whatever the reason, he wouldn’t be going to any fucked-up Brady-Bunch dinner. That was for damn sure.

  “Syd, I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, and I need to prepare.” He tried to sound as friendly as was possible despite all the angry memories swirling around inside him. “Thanks for stopping by, though. I’ll be counting on you to get me up to speed with the fashion department’s activities. Let’s grab a drink later this week.”

  Adjusting the hem on her skirt as though it required her undivided attention, Sydney took her time before meeting his eyes. “Sure, there’s a new wine bar that opened up near Spencer Street that we could try.”

  “Sounds great.”

  She smiled brightly at him, but he didn’t buy for a second that it was 100 percent authentic. “I’ll invite Ian and Beau. It’ll be a Wentworth slash Doran family get-together.”

  “I know what you’re doing,” he said as his sister pushed up out of her seat and started toward the door.

  “What?” She offered an innocent shrug of her shoulders. “Someone has to take responsibility for keeping the family together.”

  That was the last thing he cared about right now. If he was going to restore the Wentworth name to its former glory, then hitting the ground running as CEO and keeping his hands off a certain staff member had to be at the top of his to-do list. Sydney was not going to suck him into her “happy family” fantasy.