Taken by the CEO (The Scandalous Wentworths)

by Stefanie London

  “I thought it sounded better than boss-with-benefits.”

  He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his suit pants in the hopes that would quell the tingling there. “What do you want, Emmaline?”

  “I want to explore my options,” she said, carefully. “I want to spend some time worrying only about me. I know it’s selfish…but I need it.”

  She looked as though she might further explain herself, but her mouth snapped shut, and she squared her shoulders as if daring him to challenge her.

  “Explore your options?” He ground his back teeth together.

  It was stupid—she owed him nothing other than to turn up and do her job to the best of her abilities. But the thought of another man touching her made his blood burn like fire in his veins. Was it that wimpy Mark she was interested in? Did she want a nice man who would be safe and boring and predictable in bed? The questions made him want to roar like a wild animal.

  But if there was one thing Parker could do well, it was keep his emotions in check.

  “I should go,” she said, avoiding his question and his gaze.

  He nodded. “Please pull together a list of recommendations for a staff engagement campaign and send them through to Mercy.”

  “Of course.”

  Parker stalked back to his desk, and she was gone by the time he turned around. Agitated energy flowed through him as he dropped down into his chair, his fingers immediately curling into fists. He wasn’t ready to move on from Emmaline. Not yet. No matter how many reasons stood between them. He knew better than to get involved with a staff member, but the fact was they were already involved. That night didn’t disappear because they’d discovered the truth about one another.

  You’re justifying it to yourself.

  Damn right, he was. All the reasons to stay away didn’t stop him being totally captivated by her unique combination of inexperience and burgeoning curiosity. He wanted to explore her, test her. Challenge her. So, he would have to convince her that their one night was a precursor to greater things to come. In secret, of course.

  Chapter Nine

  Emmaline stared at the email on her screen, the little blinking cursor mocking her lack of progress. She’d been trying to write the damn thing for an hour now, but the words refused to come. Perhaps it was because she had gone over a week without a proper night’s sleep since her last meeting with Parker.

  Whenever she closed her eyes she saw him. Irritatingly hot, commanding, and hazardous to her sanity as well as her sleep. The man haunted her dreams with frustrating regularity. The vivid images of him touching her, tasting her, and bringing her to the peak of satisfaction over and over had left her feeling confused.

  And horny.

  This was supposed to be her time to spread her wings. To date and have fun and discover who she was and what she wanted out of life. Instead, she was thinking—yet again—about her unattainable and frighteningly sexy boss. Seriously, the guy should be a controlled substance.

  Warning: earth-shattering orgasms can impair your judgment. May result in a loss of common sense and reduced ability to make healthy decisions.

  Walking away from his offer had taken an immense amount of willpower previously reserved for Peanut M&Ms and the Better than Sex cake. Turns out, the cake wasn’t better than sex, at least not where Parker was concerned. But what would be achieved by sleeping with him again? Other than physical euphoria, that was.

  He wasn’t the right guy for her. Sure, he was amazing in bed and gorgeous to boot. Plus, he was smart, driven, and funny. All good things. But she’d already seen glimpses of how much he liked to be in control. From the comment to Mark to the way he’d tried to convince her to sleep with him again. And he was in a position of power…like her ex-husband had been.

  That was the trifecta of nope.

  “You know you can’t type through sheer mind power, right?” Mark said as he leaned over her desk. “I think the next word you’re looking for is ‘and.’”

  “Smarty pants.” She turned in her chair and sighed dramatically. “My brain is failing me.”

  He grinned. “Coffee break?”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” She grabbed her wallet and followed Mark to the elevators.

  “Because you’re not a smarty pants like me.” He nudged her with his elbow, and she laughed.

  Why couldn’t she be attracted to someone like him? Mark was friendly, sweet, and seemed like the kind of guy who would be a great boyfriend. The kind who would bring flowers and wine home just because. The kind that would be supportive and unobtrusive. Safe and dependable.

  Sounds like an ad for a maxi pad, not a hot date.

  “So, what’s this secret project you’ve been working on for the CEO?” he asked as they waited at the elevator. “You’ve been tightlipped about it.”

  “It’s not a secret. I’m putting together some recommendations for how we can better retain staff and make this place more attractive to external candidates.” She tapped her sensible nude pump against the floor as she tried not to think about Parker kissing her in his office. Every time her mind drifted there, her body jittered.

  “That’s an incredible opportunity, especially since you’ve only been here six months. Not that I think you don’t deserve it…” He cleared his throat. “And it’ll be great for your ASTAR application.”

  It hadn’t even occurred to her that people might be suspicious over the sudden privilege of working directly with Parker. Though her manager had only sung her praises since she started. But what if people questioned why she was handpicked by the CEO?

  Had she already gotten a red flag from the gossip mill?

  “That came out wrong.” Mark shook his head. “I’m happy for you, I think you’re smarter than most of the people here.”

  The doors slid open, and Emmaline came face-to-face with Parker. He stood in the center of the elevator, presented like a gift from the heavens. Mark faltered, as if he wasn’t sure they should enter without Parker’s permission.

  “Going down?” Parker asked with a slight drawl, and Emmaline’s cheeks burned. Not a muscle moved on his face to show whether he’d intended the double entendre, but she could have sworn there was a hint of something rough and dirty in his voice.

  “Uh, yes. Thank you…sir.” Mark stepped into the elevator and she followed, turning to watch the screen light up with the floor number so she didn’t have to look at either of them.

  “There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’” Parker said. “My name is fine.”

  In the slight reflection from the elevator doors, she could see Parker watching her. His gaze traveled up and down her body, leisurely. Hungrily. His eyes met hers in the reflection, and she turned away sharply. Tightness gathered between her legs, causing her to shift from one foot to the other.

  Of all the bloody elevators in this building. Surely he has some secret Bat Cave entrance that he could use.

  “Where are you off to, Emmaline?” he asked. The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Mark and I are going to grab a coffee and discuss my ideas for the staff engagement campaign,” she replied coolly. Mark raised an eyebrow but didn’t contradict her.

  “I have a few minutes to spare,” Parker said. “I’ll join you.”

  “No.” The word shot out of her mouth before she could stop it, and Mark threw her a look as if to say “what the hell?” “I mean, we’re putting the finishing touches on the plan, and it’s still in a draft state. It’s not ready for discussion yet.”

  “I’m sure that’s fine—” Mark tried to cut in, but Emmaline glared at him.

  “I would hate to waste Mr. Wentworth’s time by showing him something that’s not up to scratch.”

  “Call me Parker,” he said. “There’s no need for such formality.”

  Something about his tone urged her to say his name. It repeated like a chant over and over in her head. “Parker.”

  The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open to reveal
the building’s bustling ground floor. Mark practically leaped out of the elevator, and Parker fell in step with Emmaline as they headed toward the café that serviced the building.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to join you?” he asked.

  She swallowed and motioned for Mark to wait. “I would prefer to present a more polished version.”

  “How about we meet tomorrow?”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be ready—”

  “Make yourself ready,” Parker replied.

  Emmaline bristled. She wanted to tell him where to shove his demands just to see the look of shock on his face that someone would dare talk back to him. The man was infuriating, and taking him down a peg or two would be oh, so satisfying. But before she had the chance to retort, he left her there ready to melt into a puddle of hormones and bad decisions.

  …

  Parker tapped his foot as he waited for his macchiato. He hadn’t been planning to get a coffee, but he wasn’t going to let Emmaline know that. She sat a few feet away from him with that puppy dog, Mark. The guy was so hot for her he was practically drooling onto the table between them.

  He made a comical face, and Emmaline threw her head back, laughing. The magical sound carried across the café, and Parker noticed two men at a table close by throwing appreciative glances her way. Frustration coursed through him. He wanted to march over there and order the three men out of the building.

  If you were any more caveman right now you’d be wearing a loincloth and swinging a club.

  “Oh, look, it’s the big bad boss.” Sydney’s voice caught his attention, and he turned, arranging his features into their usual unaffected state.

  She stood with Ian, and they looked like the vision of the perfect Wentworth family portrait. Fashionable. Attractive. Expensive.

  “Good to see you’re not chained to your desk twenty-four seven.” Ian motioned for the barista to make his usual coffee.

  “I would say the same for you, but we know you’re never in any danger of doing too much work,” Parker quipped.

  “I make it look easy, big brother.” Ian slapped him on the back. “I’m like a duck. Cool and calm on the surface, paddling like mad underneath.”

  “And always quacking about something.” Parker collected his order and took a sip.

  “So I thought you had a super-fancy coffee machine all to yourself upstairs.”

  “I felt like getting out.”

  Ian quirked a brow. “And spying on the employees?”

  “Hardly.”

  It was difficult not to notice how the café’s customers gave him a wide berth, even though he wasn’t here to keep an eye on them. Well, not all of them anyway. They scurried along, collecting their coffees and heading back to the office as though he’d admonish them for stopping to sit and talk.

  All except Emmaline and Mark.

  “Or have you stopped to spy on one employee in particular?” Ian chuckled.

  “Who’s spying?” Sydney asked, reappearing with an iced coffee that was bigger than her head. She wore a bright purple and gold dress, and a pair of heels with spiky studs that looked sharp enough to be used as a weapon.

  “I’m not spying on anyone.”

  Ian grabbed his drink and motioned for them to get a table. “He’s been checking out that blonde since before we got here.”

  “She’s cute.” Sydney bobbed her head. “Doesn’t work on the fashion team, though. I don’t know her. It would be so nice for you to have a girlfriend, Parker. You should ask her out.”

  “She’s an employee, Syd.”

  “So you were checking her out?” Ian shot Sydney a look, and she giggled. “Busted.”

  “Hey, Laurel and Hardy, can we talk about something serious? Otherwise I have work to do.” He rolled his eyes as his brother and sister mimicked him across the table. This was their entire childhood in a nutshell, him trying to be responsible, and the terrible twosome giving him a hard time for it.

  “We could talk about what you’re going to bring to the family dinner,” Sydney said, tracing the pattern on her coffee cup with one fingertip while avoiding his eyes. “If you don’t have time to make something, a bottle of wine would be nice.”

  “Not this again,” he groaned. “Seriously, Syd. Can’t you let it go?”

  Her hazel eyes looked at him imploringly from under a heavy set of black eyelashes. “Can I let the importance of family go? No, Parker, I can’t.”

  “Seriously, man,” Ian chipped in. “Come to the damn dinner, eat some food, and then go home. It’s not a big deal.”

  How was it possible that neither one of his siblings could see why there was an issue with this scenario?

  “Why should I compromise my values to placate people who aren’t part of my life?”

  “Because we’re family, Parker. That used to mean something to you.”

  The hurt in Sydney’s eyes settled like a lump of ice in his chest. “It meant something to me before he destroyed our family. He should have put us first instead of screwing his assistant and knocking her up.”

  Her glossy lips pursed. “Can’t you even say his name?”

  “Arthur.” It was sour on his tongue.

  “I meant ‘Dad.’” She sighed and pushed up from the table, grabbing her iced coffee. “You’re the one who’s keeping the family apart, Parker. Not him. You.”

  She stalked off without another word. Ian frowned. “Can’t you come to the fucking dinner? Do you have to be such a jerk about it?”

  “Me? What the hell have I done other than take a moral stand?” A dull throbbing sensation started up behind his eyes, threatening to flare into a full-blown headache if he didn’t put his focus elsewhere.

  “A moral stand,” Ian scoffed. “You’re being selfish. Sydney wants you to come to one family dinner, and you can’t even do that for her.”

  “If she wants the three of us to have dinner, I’m there. Hell, invite Beau along, too.” He gritted his teeth. “But I am not playing happy families with…them. Not going to happen.”

  “I told Syd that you running off to Boston wouldn’t change anything.” Ian skewered him with a look.

  “Why am I the villain all of a sudden?”

  “Because you’re too damn stubborn to see anything beyond your own bitterness, and you’re dragging the pain out when we should all move on.”

  “I can’t.” Parker pushed up from his chair, suddenly aware that he and Ian had been arguing loud enough for anyone in the immediate vicinity to overhear. “I’m going back to work to try and remind people that the Wentworth name means something good. You know, since I’m such an evil jerk.”

  As he strode out of the café, his fingers gripping the coffee cup like a life raft, he caught Emmaline’s eyes. They were sparkly and blue and full of sympathy. He didn’t want her to feel bad for him. Right now, he wanted her laid out on his desk so he could forget his problems and drown himself in her body.

  …

  By the time Emmaline made it back to her desk—after waiting at the café long enough to ensure she and Mark wouldn’t be trapped in the elevator with Parker again—a meeting invite had landed in her inbox. Another “employee engagement” discussion with Mr. Annoyingly Sexy Bossy Boots.

  “Crap,” she muttered.

  “Your lips are saying one thing but your body is saying something else,” Elena said in a teasing singsong voice.

  “Huh?” Emmaline turned away from the computer without accepting the invite. Looking at her hand, she saw that she’d been twirling her hair around one finger like some starstruck teenager.

  “Have you got that mystery guy on your mind?”

  Did she ever. It had been impossible not to catch snippets of Parker’s conversation at the café earlier. She’d snuck glances at him while pretending to be interested in Mark’s extensive dialogue about some new sci-fi movie. Aliens and spaceships weren’t her thing, but she’d smiled and nodded politely while worrying about Parker.

  She was pretty sur
e you weren’t supposed to feel concerned about the emotional wellbeing of your one-night stand. But then again, she’d kind of stuffed up the whole no-strings thing anyway…what did one more little indiscretion matter?

  “I’ll take that unnecessarily long pause as a yes,” Elena said, tucking her long, dark hair behind her ear. “He must have done a number on you. I’ve never seen you go gaga over a man before.”

  “He’s not just any man,” she sighed.

  He was the wrong man. She hated the power he had over her, and not only because he could render her unemployed. It was that he never hesitated to tell her what to do, to take action because he thought he knew best. Then there was that strange hold that Parker had when it came to her thoughts, her feelings…her body. It was new and exhilarating, but kind of terrifying.

  “Don’t try to give me this ‘he’s the one’ bullshit.” Elena pretended to stick a finger down her throat. “I thought you were sworn off relationships.”

  “I am,” she said, but somehow it didn’t seem to ring true. According to every self-help book she’d read on divorce—not to mention the pages and pages of comments on forums run by happily unattached women—she was not supposed to be getting herself entangled with anyone new.

  Jeez, you can’t even be single properly. What happened to spreading your wings and enjoying the bachelorette lifestyle?

  “But?”

  Emmaline sighed. “But…I kind of like this guy. He’s not perfect, but he’s smart and charismatic. I’m tempted.”

  “Tempted to do what?”

  “To see him again.” She thought of how close she’d come to losing her resolve the last time she was in his office. He made her feel electric, totally and utterly desirable and wanted, and…alive. “To be with him again.”

  “Why do you think that’s a bad thing?”

  She drummed her nails against the desk, watching the light catch on the respectable pale pink polish she’d chosen over the more enticing sports-car red at the nail salon. Every so often she noticed past habits creeping in—like her brain wasn’t quite ready to let go of the old her. The boring her.