by Alexis Angel
Instead, I put a hand on my desk to steady myself.
She’s coming to me, after all.
Wouldn’t want her thinking she’s got the upper hand.
Just when I think I’ve won and I’m going to seal our deal with a fuck on my desk, she smiles her brilliant smile. She pushes me away and walks to stand in front of the window that overlooks Central Park.
Fuck.
“Amazing view, huh?” I say, coming up behind her. “I bet the view from your office isn’t nearly as nice.”
“Please,” she says, turning towards me. “My interns have a better view than this. The view from the Dirty Little Angel bathrooms kicks this view’s ass.”
“I originally had a suite of offices on the other side of the building,” I say, sitting on the edge of my desk in front of Elsa. “But I went on a few dates with the redhead handling the building’s real estate and wouldn’t you know it—a spot on this side became available.”
“So, you used some poor girl for your office view. Charming, Tanner.”
Shit. That story isn’t having the effect I thought it would.
“Tell me, do you just avoid her now?” Elsa asks. “That’s how you operate, right? Lay ‘em and leave ‘em. To the victor goes the spoils—you get twenty minutes with a hot piece of ass and a view of Central Park.”
I stand up, determined to get this conversation back on track.
“She knew it wasn’t serious,” I say. “It was a casual. A few mutually beneficial days, I’ll have you know.”
“Typical Tanner, always focusing on the short-term payoff,” Elsa says. “You can never see past your own needs and desires to accommodate anyone else, cupcake. Admit it.”
“Funny, I remember it was you who broke up with me,” I respond, reaching up to grab a blond curl and wrapping it around my finger.
“I saw no reason to delay the inevitable.”
“So, in addition to being a sexy model and a lingerie titan, you’re also a mind reader.”
Elsa leans in, her full lips inches from mine and says, “You think I’m sexy.”
As she steps back away from me, she looks smug—a little too smug for my comfort.
“You didn’t just solve world peace, angel,” I shoot back. “Yeah, I think you’re hot. Because you are. You know it. I know it. The whole world knows it. No big mystery there.”
I see Elsa glance down the fly of my slacks. Admittedly, the view waiting there for her is bigger than it was when we first walked into my office.
My dick isn’t completely hard yet, but it’s on its way.
Standing so close to her, drinking in her smell, isn’t helping the situation.
I’m a man of action. Talking is for schmucks who don’t get laid.
I grab Elsa in both arms and take a step forward so our bodies are pressed together, and she’s pressed against the window.
I’m waiting for a sign—any sign. I know all her fucking tells. I know the sharp little intake of breath and the long, deep sigh that mean she wants it.
I need something from her. Anything. All I’m waiting for is that little signal that it’s okay to proceed...when I feel her hands rest on my waist.
She breathes in sharply.
She exhales.
She’s mine.
“Here’s to a few mutually beneficial days,” I say, as I lean in to capture her lips with mine.
But instead of making out with Elsa Blakely, I find myself being pushed away. I catch myself just before I crash into my desk.
I steady myself and look up just in time to see Elsa’s tight ass walk out of my office.
“You want this pussy, it’s gotta be public, Tanner,” she calls over her shoulder. “No hanky panky behind the scenes I’m afraid.”
Instead of chasing after her like a lovesick schoolboy, I sink into my chair, my head falling into my hands.
Her perfume lingers in the room.
It’s a good thing I like the scent because I’m going to be smelling it a lot for the next few weeks. And it’s a good thing I like the feel of Elsa in my arms because that’s where she’s going to be for the next few weeks.
The day didn’t end the way I thought it would, but there’s no denying that I still get to her as much as she gets to me. Maybe more. Why else would she leave like that?
It’s only a matter of time before she gives in. And then we can have some real fun during our pretend engagement.
In the meantime, I intend to have fun teasing her.
Maybe this little arrangement our boards forced us into isn’t the worst thing after all.
Chapter 5
Elsa
Something in my gut immediately tells me the next few weeks are going to be pure hell.
I move my mouse to wake my laptop from its slumber. It seems like even on my days off, I find myself sitting behind a computer involved in something work-related.
That’s why I insisted on my home office being as luxurious as my one at work. From the crystal chandelier to the plush rug under my feet, this space gets my creative juices flowing.
Business. I’m comfortable in business. Next to the runway, business is like my second home.
So that’s what I tell myself. Things with Tanner? Just business, pure and simple.
We fucked up. Now, we have to fix it—for our shareholders and our employees—for the bottom line at the end of every month.
Hopefully, I won’t have to pretend to be engaged to that man whore for longer than that. But knowing my luck, I could be stuck with him for good.
And being stuck with Tanner—that’s what scares me.
Not because I find him quite as intolerable as my press releases suggest, but because I know that the longer I’m around him, the harder this gets.
Seeing how fucking good Tanner still looks—always looks, damn him—gets my juices flowing, and not the just ones concerned with stock prices and profit margins. Before all this, I was able to keep my emotions in check. But spending so much time with him, it’s going to be hard to not fall for his charming line of bullshit all over again.
I shake my head in a futile effort to get him out of my every thought, every cell of my being. Instead, I try to distract myself with the latest news on the fallout from the fashion show.
Article after article detail the events without adding anything new, just idle gossip and chatter. A few small pieces on my falling stock prices. Tanner’s stocks are falling, too.
I’m about to switch over to my email when I see an article from Lis Langley. I usually like to read her pieces—when I’m not the subject, of course. She knows her stuff, and she’s sharp.
Too bad she’s writing for that shitty gossip rag that tries to pass itself off as a respectable business paper.
My eye catches the picture of Tanner accompanying the Lis Langley article. Fuck, he’s good-looking. I think back to being in his office and how close I came to surrendering and just falling into his arms.
He’s right; that part did work for us. It was everything else that was fucked up.
And I see no reason to think it would be any different this time around.
I just have to remind myself of that—when I’m standing close enough to him and feel the heat emanating from his body.
It bothers me how much I liked it when he slammed me against the window in his office. Take-charge Tanner is quite the turn on.
I’m remembering all the times in the past when Tanner turned me on, all the nights spent in his bed, my bed, his penthouse roof, and so many other places.
My email window springs to life, jolting me back to grim reality. Unread messages: two hundred sixty-seven.
Shit.
I scroll past the messages from my shareholders—plenty of time later to have my ass handed to me by old white men. I flag a few emails for follow-up and forward even more to my assistant, so she can do the heavy lifting on them.
There’s more than a couple of dozen messages from the press clamoring for an interview. Sure enough,
I see Lis’ name as I scroll past it.
Lis is overqualified to work at The Chronicle. I think that every time I read her stuff. She’s fucking wasted on them.
But pitying her work situation isn’t enough for me to grant her an interview, or to any of the reporters crowding my inbox.
Minimizing my email window brings me back face to face with Tanner, who’s staring at me from the website of The Capitalist Chronicle. Damn if I don’t want him. Right here, right now.
But wanting him and liking him are not the same thing. In my case, where Tanner’s concerned, at least, they’re polar opposites.
I pick up the bottle sitting to my left to pour another much-needed glass of rosé, but nothing comes out. Given the turn my life has taken the past few days, it’s no surprise that I’ve managed to finish a bottle of wine.
In the middle of the day.
And I’m going in for seconds.
I haul myself to the kitchen, and as I grab another bottle from the wine cooler, I notice the imported chocolates that Monique sent to me just hours ago.
That assistant of mine needs a raise. No, multiple raises.
She knows just how to raise my spirits. Decadent dark chocolate truffles are a good start. But add it to my rosé, the strawberries I have in the fridge, and a few other goodies waiting for me by the tub, and I have the makings of a spirit-boosting bubble bath to die for.
I open the fridge and reach for the strawberries to add to the pile of sustenance I’m gathering on the counter. The can of whipped cream sitting beside the fruits takes me back to a certain Hamptons weekend getaway and the creative ways Tanner found to use whipped cream.
If I let myself, I could find connections with Tanner everywhere I look. Immediately after we ended, that’s all I did.
And it drove me crazy. I can’t let myself get emotionally attached like that again.
If I was in complete control of my life, the solution to my dilemma would be easy. I would avoid Tanner at all costs. However, his little stunt at the fashion show squashed that option.
Now, I have the board’s ultimatum hanging over my head like a black cloud, ready to pour down on me at any moment.
I have no choice.
For the foreseeable future, Tanner and I are going to be in each other’s orbit. Going on dates, kissing...and more?
I slam the fridge closed and fill my arms with the supplies I’ve gathered on the kitchen counter. I know when I’ve reached my limit to how much I can stress over a situation I can’t change. And I’ve reached it.
As I walk down the hall, I refuse to look into my office. The time for work has passed. The time for wallowing in my shitty situation starts right now.
I gently drop the loot that’s in my arms onto the small wood table beside my tub. Scratch that—my fucking huge tub.
This luxurious jetted tub was what sold me to this place. It’s melted all my stress away more times than I can count. And I’m counting on it doing the same thing today.
While the tub fills up with steaming water, I add in a yummy-smelling lavender bubble bath—the really expensive shit that has tons of bubbles. I throw in some bath salts for good measure.
With the candles lit, soft music playing and the lights dimmed, I start to peel off my clothes. As the fabric falls from my body, it’s way too easy to imagine it’s Tanner that’s disrobing me. I stroke my arms, my abs, all while imagining they’re Tanner’s hands caressing me.
I feel my pussy start to come alive. Even just imagining Tanner’s hands on me gets me revved up.
No, Elsa. Keep those thoughts out of your head.
It’s time I started looking at this as a pure business arrangement. I can’t let emotions cloud my judgment.
Not this time. Not again.
Settling into the steaming water, I grab my cell phone off the table. Time to bite the bullet and get it over with.
I scroll through the contacts looking for Tanner and finally find him, under ‘Jackass.’
With a little chuckle, I hit the call button.
Within one ring, his velvety voice is in my ear. I was not prepared for that.
“Hey, Elsa,” he practically croons into my ear. “Are you there?”
“Mmm...I mean, yes, I’m here,” I say, recovering my senses. “I was thinking that the sooner we get this charade started, the sooner we can get it over with.”
“What about dinner tomorrow night? Is that soon enough for you?”
“That will work,” I say. “I have a late staff meeting, so I’ll have to meet you there. Say around 7:30?”
“It’s a date. I’ll take care of all the details and forward them on to Monique. I’m good with the hands-on work,” he teases. “You remember, right?”
Before I can stop myself, I answer back, “I do, in fact, remember how good you were with your hands. I was just thinking about your han...”
Have I lost my mind completely?
“Really? You think about my hands, huh? Maybe I should come over there right now. I’d hate to deprive you of these instruments of pleasure after all.”
“Try to keep your ego in check,” I say with a scoff. “If you would have let me finish, I was about to say how rough and dry your hands looked. Have you never heard of a manicure?”
Smooth recovery.
“Okay, angel. I’ll let you think I believe you. See you tomorrow night.”
“What did I say about calling me ang—?”
And he’s already hung up. Perfect.
I don’t know which is worse: that stupid nickname being resurrected or the danger of starting a fake romance with Tanner.
That’s not true. It’s no contest.
I’m definitely taking a risk getting close to Tanner all over again, let alone pretending to be engaged to him. But I’m not about to let all of my hard work starting Dirty Little Angel and building it up to the success that it is just to let it fail because I don’t have the balls to go on a few dates with that jackass.
That sexy jackass.
A jackass with the velvety voice and magic hands.
I’m going to need a giant boost of confidence to stand up to his charms. And nothing gives me confidence like a good orgasm.
As I slip my hand under the water, I let myself imagine it’s not my hand stroking my pussy but a certain dark-haired, broad-shouldered, gray-eyed Adonis who could turn out to be my biggest weakness.
Chapter 6
Tanner
The clock chimes loudly behind me, indicating its half past the hour.
I feel sweat form at my brow, and I quickly wipe it away. Wringing my hands and my neck, I resort to my phone to distract myself, absent-mindedly scrolling through my emails and Twitter feed.
I’m nervous—I’m actually fucking nervous—and I have no idea why.
I swear, she is the only person that can make me this fucking anxious. She knows exactly how to rile me up in her peculiar and aggravating ways.
And it’s not like me to overanalyze, to get anxious, and to worry. But with her, my mind spirals out of control.
It makes no sense because I’ve dealt with bigger shit than this before.
Hell, that’s what every runway show and new collection is all about—pressure, nerves, anticipation—all wrapped up in one package. The success all dependent upon critics.
But tonight’s critic—Elsa—has found a way to get to me and under my skin like no one else has or can.
I sigh in exasperation and start pacing the length of the veranda, unable to stay still.
Anxiety seeps through me, and my inner watchdog comes out—I eye the door, the main entrance, and my watch in eagerness.
I fidget with the pink and white roses the restaurant drowned the balcony with, per my request. It eases me a bit, and I smile lazily, taking in the scene.
I’m not a romantic man. I don’t have a knack for hearts; I rarely buy flowers; and I usually run away from all things dealing with love.
It’s not something I’m used to or have g
rown up with.
But I’m a damn good designer, and I know gorgeous when I see it. And that’s exactly what this restaurant and this veranda is—fucking gorgeous.
In all honesty, it’s a breathtaking scene. It’s as if they’ve taken a page out of a Nicholas Sparks novel or some shit and brought it to life here.
Fortunately, I know people who can make me look like I’m romantic—it’s all included with the charm. Plus, it makes me feel a little bit better, knowing that I’m making it harder for her to run away.
That is, if she hasn’t already.
The veranda is decorated with sparkly lights that twinkle above and varying designs of the pink and white roses. There’s even a fucking wall of roses, a Kanye West-style rose wall. Yeah, yeah, it’s a bit much, but it’s worth it.
The whole scene complements the hue of the full moon and the few bright stars in the sky nicely, and the city lights make an impeccable backdrop.
Like I said, it looks like a movie set. And whoever did this needs a raise because it’s fucking impressive.
Irritation gnawing at me, I look down at my watch again—she was supposed to have been here a while ago.
I laugh. I wouldn’t be surprised if she chickened out. Sometimes, I wonder if she’s all talk and no action.
Perhaps she’s too afraid to go through with this plan. I knew she didn’t want to be in business with me again, but I was certain that her work was more important to her than her ego.
I look out over the balcony, casually checking to see if she’s below, hoping that my suspicions aren’t true.
“Tanner,” I hear from behind me.
I turn towards my name and am stunned, my body shocked from the sight of her.
My breath escapes me, and my heart begins to pound.
Fuck me. She is too much.
Her golden hair glistens underneath the shimmering lights, and her skin glows.
Her dress hugs her curves, accentuating her tight body, those delicious breasts, and that firm ass.
I swallow, searching for my breath. And my dick stiffens against my pants, eager to fill her.
Fuck, she can make me cum just from the sight of her.
