by Nikki Sloane
Like the first of the lanterns in the sky, the warmth of her flickered out and went cold, her expression turning hard and distant. “No.”
When I’d landed on the name, I’d expected she’d either reluctantly admit it or adamantly deny it to overcompensate, but . . . what was this? She shut down and stepped back out of my arms, eyeing me like she’d drawn a line in the sand and I’d just put one foot across it.
It left me with no choice but to surge forward with my assumption. “Why? What did he do?”
Bitterness stained her eyes. “Duncan? He didn’t do anything.” She said it like perhaps he should have, though.
Sophia had backed away from me, and I didn’t like her retreat. I grasped her waist and blocked her from putting space between us. On some level, I knew it was unreasonable to be demanding answers from her, especially after all she’d done tonight, but I was impatient and frustrated I couldn’t have her in any of the ways I wanted.
“Does Duncan’s secret have something to do with drugs?” I guessed.
She shook her head in anger and spat the words like bullets. “I said it’s not Duncan.”
“Then, tell me.” My order was curt, and Sophia cracked under the weight of it.
It was one thing to see her intimidated. The twisted part of me enjoyed when people cowered in fear, but when her beautiful face flooded with panic, it poured the same emotion into my stomach. Her eyes went glassy and wet, and she blinked rapidly to keep back the sudden tears.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “We can’t have this conversation right now. We don’t have the time, and I can’t. I don’t have the strength needed to tell it to you tonight.” Her long lashes fluttered as a single tear escaped, but it was quickly wiped away. “Please, Macalister,” she pleaded. “Don’t ruin this night.”
But I’d destroyed the magic between us, and I was certain I already had, so I stayed silent.
Her gaze moved away from me, and she sucked in a calming breath. “We need to get back before anyone notices we’re missing.”
I didn’t want to leave things so undone with her, but she had a point.
Reluctantly, we returned to the narrow hedges, and the walk back through the maze was slower, my feet heavier to move. The awkwardness I’d created between us flooded down the passageways, choking my breath, and I despised the sensation.
My eyebrows pulled together before we made the final turn that would make us visible to the rest of the world and lead us out past the walls of evergreen. “It’s my nature to push,” I said quietly. “I am relentless with myself, and it often affects the way I treat other people.”
Her face contorted, not understanding what I was trying to say.
I let out a breath. “I’m sorry. Usually, I am a patient man, but you . . . disrupt me.”
It was as if I’d just confessed I hated money. Sophia turned to stone at my admission. “Was that an apology?”
Discomfort settled in my chest. “It was. Did I not do it properly?”
“No, it’s—I didn’t think you apologized very often.”
My unease faded, and I lifted the corner of my mouth in a pleased smile. “I don’t.” She understood it was difficult for me to admit a mistake and appreciated that I’d been willing to do so. My apology was sincere.
“Thank you,” she answered.
It cleared enough of the tension suspended between us, and we pressed forward, emerging from the entrance of the maze undetected by the partygoers. Although it didn’t last long. We’d put a professional amount of space between us before Damon signaled to me and began to make his approach. He was grinning ear to ear with a million-dollar smile.
“Macalister, wow.” He held out his hand, and I took it, letting him give me a hearty shake. “Thank you. This whole evening has been incredible, and I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you.”
“All I ask is that you win in November.” I tried to match his smile, so he’d interpret the statement as friendly, even though I was dead serious. “As for your gratitude, I can’t take the credit.” I turned and tossed a hand toward the beautiful woman standing to my left. “It’s Sophia’s. She suggested the event to me and planned the entire evening.”
In the past, I wouldn’t have said such a thing. As CEO, I was responsible for my subordinates’ failures whether I was directly involved or not, so this meant I was allowed to take credit for their successes as well.
It was my money, after all.
But my time away had changed me, even as I’d struggled not to let it in. My selfish thinking had contributed to my downfall, and I was determined to be a better man. Plus, Sophia had worked hard to make this event a success and exceeded my expectations when I’d given her zero support or guidance. She was due all the appreciation.
And yet, all Damon Lynch did was stand there and stare at her dubiously.
My annoyance flared, and I glared at him while issuing the command. “So, perhaps you should thank her.”
“Yeah, of course.” He returned to life and gave her a quick smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she mumbled back, but it felt perfunctory. She’d given it without thought, as a conditioned, polite response.
Not that Damon noticed or cared. His gaze was already back on me, the girl forgotten, and I set my teeth in displeasure as disappointment sank her shoulders. As soon as he began rattling off all the donations he’d garnered at the party, she turned and strolled away, abandoning us.
I’d once been as selfish as Lynch, unaware of anyone who didn’t have something I needed or wanted, and Sophia had been invisible to me. And, yes, there were things I wanted and needed from her now, but I was sure I’d always be aware of her regardless of what happened.
Etiquette dictated that Damon Lynch provide me with some sort of gift as a show of appreciation for the party I’d thrown for him, and Monday morning I sent an email instructing him to send it to Sophia. I would have told him in person, but with the holiday tomorrow, office attendance was poor. Most executives chose to extend their weekend through today.
“Good morning,” Sophia said as she delivered my coffee, setting it beside my keyboard in the spot I preferred. “People magazine reached out to me last night and asked for the rights to publish one of my pictures.”
She had lit the internet on fire with the party. Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook were flooded with pictures from Saturday night.
“Which one?” I asked.
Her smile was coy. “The one of you.”
Electricity crackled between us.
When I’d turned to her after the lantern launch and demanded she join me on a walk, I’d thought she’d been shooting video. I hadn’t realized she’d snapped a picture instead. She’d captured me in my tuxedo, my face turned up toward the sky and a smile on my lips, surrounded by the glowing lanterns.
She’d cropped and edited it so the composition and focus were exactly right.
All the pictures taken of me during my fifty-five years, and Sophia had now shot the best two.
I’d forgotten what I looked like with a real smile, but she’d trapped it and posted it for the world to see, even flattering me with her caption.
My boss is better than yours.
The endless comments from strangers of #silverfox were nice, but I’d obsessed over her line all weekend. Did she mean it strictly as an employer, or as I hoped she did—that I was the one she allowed to be in charge and responsible for her?
She’d continued to send me morning pictures for my approval, and today she wore a white sleeveless dress with a high collar and her hair pulled back in a bun. She was polished, but her youthful blue eyes and tan skin kept her from looking too severe.
I feigned indifference. “What did you tell People?”
“I said I’d check with you first.”
I turned my full attention to her. “I appreciate that and, yes, it’s fine. You must know I’m pleased with the picture.” I’d
used it to update my profile image on all my social media.
“I got lucky,” she said.
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t do that.” When confusion played across her face, I continued, “Don’t pretend you’re not competent. You are good at what you do, Sophia. Own it.”
She gave a lopsided grin, as I’d caught her in a harmless lie. “Yeah, okay. I was hoping I’d get a smile out of you.”
“You did,” I agreed. She prepared to leave and return to her desk, which meant it was time to strike. I motioned toward the sitting area. “By the way, that came for you this morning.”
Surprise darted through her expression, and she turned her gaze toward the table, expecting another large white box and a silver bow.
“Macalister, we talked about . . .”
Her words petered out when she spotted the smaller, glossy black box tied with a sinful red ribbon. Her shoulders lifted with her deep breath.
She offered it hesitantly, smart enough to know it wasn’t likely. “Shoes?”
I pushed back in my chair, stood, and steeled my expression, not wanting to give anything anyway. She’d surprised me with the lanterns, and it was only fair that I do the same to her.
“Open it and find out.”
She walked to the couch opposite me, sat down, and carefully pulled the box into her lap. I could sense her curiosity, practically taste her interest, as she slid the ribbon off the corner and lifted the lid. She stared at the contents, not understanding what she was looking at, and then the lid was replaced in a rush.
I found it comical the way she furtively glanced around, checking to see if anyone had seen inside the box. Had she forgotten we were alone in my office?
“Oh, shit,” she gasped. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Language,” I corrected with an amused tone. “That depends on what you think it is.” It was clear she knew, but I wanted to make her say it out loud.
Her cheeks tinged red. “I think it’s—uh—a vibrator.”
“Oh,” I said plainly. “Then, yes. You are correct.”
SEVENTEEN
SOPHIA
All the moisture evaporated from my body as I’d stared inside the box in my lap. The interior was lined with black velvet, but it wasn’t jewelry. The shape was what had thrown me at first. Most of the wand vibrator was black, but the long stem descending from the head had a slight bow to it, narrowing in the center before curving out at the bottom, which was covered in chrome plating.
I slammed the lid shut and flushed, instantly sweating even though the office was always frigid.
Macalister had bought me a vibrator, and from the looks of it, a very expensive one.
I was strung so tight I could barely squeeze the question out. “Why did you get this for me?”
He looked so fucking powerful in his charcoal gray suit and black tie, standing behind his desk with his arms crossed and a dark, intense look in his eyes. It was thrilling. “You deserve a reward.”
I sipped in air, although it had gone thin in the room. The box on my lap was burning, but my hands itched to lift the lid and look a second time. Just to make sure it was still in there, I told myself. Not because I was curious or excited.
He tilted his head, giving me an exacting stare. “You’ve had one orgasm in front of me. I’d like to see more.”
Holy shit.
My mind went blank. “How many more?”
His smile was sinister. “Until you feel comfortable having them in my presence.”
Um, holy shit.
My brain was stuck on repeat, and my gaze dropped to the box, not sure what else to do. If I kept looking at Macalister, I’d spontaneously combust and ruin all his nice office furniture.
It was just a statement from him, but it rang as an order in my ears. “Open it.”
I licked my dry lips and lifted the lid—
Sure enough, the beautiful sex toy was still cushioned inside. My fingers trembled as I touched it and discovered the silicone sheathing was silky soft.
Macalister’s voice was wicked. “What do you think?”
It seemed strange to describe it this way, but the sleek design was attractive. “It’s,” I stumbled over the word, “sexy.”
He made a sound of approval. “Yes. It is.”
He uncrossed one arm so he could pick up the coffee I’d brought him and take a sip, but his eyes stayed on me, and I couldn’t help but feel like he was drinking me in at the same time. Each swallow was a throb deep between my legs.
The cup was set back down. “I’ll need you to stay late tonight.”
I’d figured as much since tomorrow was the big day with DuBois, but it was hard to focus on anything right now because there was a goddamn vibrator on my lap. All I could manage was a dull nod.
“Excellent,” he said then pointed to the built-ins beneath the television. “That cabinet is empty and has an outlet. You’ll plug that in now, so it will be fully charged for later.”
I jolted. “Later?”
He got that look he always did when I repeated his words back to him. Mild irritation but delight too. Confusion and surprise were some of the tools he used to exert power over me. “Yes.” It was both a promise and a threat. “Later.”
It was apparent he meant for me to complete this task right now, under his supervision, so I swallowed a breath and pulled the wand free of its casing. Then I lifted the panel imprinted with a fancy logo and pulled out the charging block and cord.
The vibrator had a nice weight to it, and the curvy design wasn’t just for aesthetics. It gave the wand balance. My legs wobbled as I stood and sauntered over to the cabinet, putting my back to Macalister. The cabinet was on the floor, but rather than squat, I bent over to open it. My dress wasn’t excessively short, but it rode up and flashed him a considerable amount of the backs of my thighs.
Did he like that?
Would he scold me for being too provocative or unladylike? I kind of wanted him to.
Once the cord was plugged in and attached to the bottom of the wand, a red light began to blink, and I closed the cabinet door, concealing it from view. But then Macalister was beside me, the box in his hands.
“This goes in there too.”
I tucked the black box in the cabinet, and when I straightened, he was already moving back to his desk.
“That will be all for now, Sophia. I have a product launch call with Europe to sit on and won’t be available until after lunch.”
Meaning we wouldn’t be having our typical morning meeting. I nodded at my dismissal and shuffled out of his office in a daze.
The Lynch event was over, but I still had plenty of work to do. There were calls to return and emails to answer and invoices to authorize payment on. The opera premiere was in two weeks and, as the major donor, Macalister would be the honored guest. I called his head of staff at the house to make sure his tuxedo would be dry-cleaned in time.
I tried to keep my mind on work, but the black device charging in the office next door kept stealing my focus. What did he have planned for me? Thinking about it made my blood run like lava through my veins, my body needy and craving satisfaction.
I was painfully turned on, and this state of being where I was hanging on edge persisted throughout the day. He’d done it deliberately, I was sure. The vibrator’s proximity made it easy to whisper seducing thoughts to me, even when he was locked away in meetings.
By late afternoon, the office was nearly empty. The people who’d come in today began to duck out early to get a head start on their Fourth of July celebrations, and at four-fifty, I said good night to Mr. O’Leary. He was officially the last person left on this floor besides Macalister and me.
At five sharp, my desk phone chimed, and Macalister’s voice rang through the speaker. “Sophia.”
Pleasure fired through my body with how he’d said my name. It was a summons in his domineering voice, and I was eager to comply, nearly tripping over
my feet as I stood and hurried to his closed office door.
I didn’t waste time knocking.
He was seated behind his desk as usual, but I could instantly tell something was different. Where was his laptop, or the spare mouse and keyboard he used in here? In fact, his whole freaking desktop was bare.
He’d cleared it off to make room for something, and my pulse quickened as I considered that something would be me.
Macalister doled it out casually. “Lock the door.”
I rotated the dial on the knob until it clicked, and the sound reverberated through my body. When I turned to face him, tingles washed down my skin and my mouth dropped open.
His desktop wasn’t empty anymore. The black vibrator lay on top of it, his fist wrapped around the base, and the sight of it liquified me. I traced each tendon in his strong hand with my gaze and struggled to keep my breathing under control.
“Come here.” His voice was rough but controlled.
I put one foot in front of the other and moved under his direction. He let go of the vibrator, leaving it on the desk, rolled his chair back, and stared up at me with his steel-colored eyes that were full of restraint.
“What are you wearing under your dress?” he asked.
Words were hard. Showing him would be easier. I grabbed the fabric covering my hips and shimmied it up until he could see the plain nude thong I wore. His eyes turned hazy, and when he grasped the band covering my hip, I jumped. His fingers were freezing.
His gaze flicked up to mine. “Take this off.”
I sucked in a breath and swallowed it down.
The door was locked and the office floor empty, but it didn’t matter. It still felt like we were breaking rules and sneaking around, which added to the whole experience. It was bright outside, and sunlight streamed through his windows, so it was like the whole world could see me with my lifted skirt, showing my boss what I had on underneath.
“What if I don’t?” I asked breathlessly. “Would you spank me for not obeying?”
Up went his eyebrow in displeasure, and I had to bite my lip to hold in my eager moan. I shivered in enjoyment when he gave me a hard, cold look. “You are not the one in control. I’ll be dictating how this will happen, do you understand?”
