by Ana Sparks
I smile eagerly, hoping to schmooze up a better deal for Carson. Call me stupid, but I’m smitten, in spite of all that’s happened.
“You made the deal with Mr. Sharpe! It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I’m his personal assistant, Aimee Rhodes,” I chirp, offering my hand.
“Ah, yes. One of Carson’s assistants. I’ve heard many tales of women like you, Miss Rhodes,” the man murmurs, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me in closer. I can see Carson approaching us from the corner of my eye, looking concerned. The meaning of the man’s words hits me abruptly, and I laugh awkwardly before trying to pull away.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’m not sure what you’ve heard about Mr. Sharpe’s assistants, but” I cut myself short with a squeal as the man roughly squeezes my backside.
I stumble back, torn between fury, embarrassment, and fear. I manage a weak laugh, trying to play off the situation. “No, no! I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that,” I say carefully, relief washing over me as Carson closes the distance between us.
“What the hell?!” Carson demands as he storms towards us, stepping between me and the Russian.
“Oh, Carson. I was simply introducing myself to your beautiful assistant. It’s only fair that we share company resources, and I’ve heard much about the women you associate with. This one is feisty!” He grins, making a grabbing motion towards me again.
Carson moves quicker than I’ve seen before, slamming a well-placed right hook into the man’s jaw. The Russian is thrown off his feet, crashing against the refreshment table and spilling all sorts of sauces on himself. His eyes narrow in fury, but Carson doesn’t seem particularly concerned. In fact, he looks ready to launch into a full-on brawl.
“Carson, it’s not worth it,” I begin, trying to draw him away.
“No one touches you like that! No one,” he shouts, lurching towards the Russian once more.
There are shouts all around us, and fear begins to creep up my spine as I realize the other men are crowding around Carson. Before things can escalate too much, however, security for the venue steps in. A man grabs Carson by the back of his shirt, and another grabs me by the wrist, dragging us towards the exit.
In spite of the fear coursing through my veins, my heart swells at just how furious Carson still seems. Could it be possible he actually cares about me? Does he care as deeply as I care for him? The way he stood up for me against a potential business partner seems to speak volumes, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions.
Throwing us against a bench at the front of the venue, the security guards consider us with annoyed expressions. Carson wraps an arm around my shoulder, drawing me in close to his side. A tingle surges between my thighs at just how protective he’s being, and it’s all I can do to keep from kissing him. However, an embrace seems to be the last thing on Carson’s mind.
“The authorities are on their way. They will deal with you in one way or another,” one of the guards says in accented English, and a gasp spills past my lips.
“Let them come, then,” Carson says sourly, tightening his grip on me.
The guards exchange a look, laughing heartily before turning away from us. I rest my cheek on Carson’s shoulder, trying to slow the frantic beating of my heart. The warmth of his body against mine is doing nothing to soothe the adrenaline firing through me, though for another reason entirely. I’m torn between being petrified and wanting to make out with my boss in front of everyone.
“Are you okay?” Carson inquires softly, resting his chin on top of my head.
My head and heart swim with emotion, and I find myself more confused than ever. The way he had protected me seemed beyond what a boss would do for his employee, but Carson had never been the average boss.
I tilt my head to meet his gaze, stunned by the passion in his eyes. The same thoughts that haunt my mind seem to race through his, as well. I grasp at his shirt, tilting my head slightly to exhale a breath against his lips. He leans in, eager to close the distance, but the security guard rushes over and pulls us apart.
“None of that! You’re to be apprehended by the authorities, not set a public orgy into motion,” he grunts.
I find a giggle bubbling up in my throat, but manage to swallow it. I can’t imagine some silly American girl laughing in their faces would particularly thrill the security staff. Especially after all the trouble I’d caused. A sudden emotional pain grips my heart, and I reach out to grip Carson’s hand in spite of the narrowing of the security guard’s eyes.
“Thank you. Thank you. After how I’ve treated you, I didn’t deserve you jumping to my defense,” I choke out, cursing myself for how weak and fragile I sound.
Carson glances towards the security guard, daringly reaching up a hand to stroke my cheek.
“No. I deserved to be treated like scum. There’s so much we need to talk about, but…I couldn’t stand to see another man put his hands on you like that. He’s lucky the security guards were here. I can tussle with the best of them,” he began seriously, trailing off into a chuckle and winking at me.
I grip his hand tightly in mine, unsure of how to express how I feel about him in that moment, and unable to put it into words even if I could.
“Just…we’ll talk as soon as we’re out of this situation. Perhaps the deal can salvage everything. I doubt that they would be willing to throw me in prison when they stand to make such a profit,” he murmurs, as I watch the Russian who had tried to grope me locked in a fierce argument with a group of other businessmen.
Maybe Carson is right. Maybe the lure of money will be enough to get us out of this. The other businessmen look angry enough with their partner for putting the deal in jeopardy.
While I have no doubt that all the men are wealthy, even the wealthiest of men could stand to make a substantial profit from a business deal with Carson Sharpe. Comforted by that thought, I loosen my too-tight grip on his hand and meet my boss’s eye again.
This will soon be resolved, and we’ll be able to go back to the hotel room and properly discuss our feelings. I’m not positive that Carson feels the same for me, but with the tender look he’s holding my gaze with, I have my suspicions.
I’m almost calm when a thought screams suddenly to the forefront of my mind. The deal…I’d lost the files regarding the deal. Of course, Carson had to know that. He wouldn’t bring me all the way out here without the proper documentation. Surely he’d made a copy of the files before I’d accidentally deleted them from the company drive.
Surely…
Chapter Fourteen
Carson
Rage courses through me as I consider the mass of Russian businessmen who seem to be caught up in whether or not they can still milk a profit out of me. Aimee is nearly hyperventilating at my side, though I’m confident that the sailing will smooth itself out in a matter of minutes.
I idly keep an ear on what the men are discussing in Russian, noting that they plan to contact SharpeFocus headquarters to secure the documents that would finalize the deal we agreed on. Exhaling an angry sigh, I can’t help but clench my fists at my side.
“Aimee, calm down. Everything is going to be okay,” I murmur soothingly, reaching out to grip her hand in my own.
She doesn’t seem particularly soothed by my words, but they’re all I can offer for the time being. My sweet personal assistant glances from me, to the horde of angry Russians, before chuckling softly.
“You’re right. Of course, you’re always right,” she breathes, her tone surprisingly absent of malice.
I offer her a smile, faltering as my potential business partners begin to curse at each other in their mother tongue. Something has them in a tizzy, though it’s unclear from how loud and chaotic the shouts are getting. They keep repeating something about the papers, the papers being missing. I have no idea what papers they could be talking about, and grumble unhappily.
“What papers could be so important…” I trail off, eyes widening as I hone in on one man in particular.
He screams curses regarding my company headquarters, wondering aloud who could be foolish enough to lose the finalization documents.
“Shit! The documents are missing!” I cry out, looking to Aimee with wariness in my gaze. “I thought you transferred those files to my personal cloud before the trip,” I hiss urgently. She appears to be on the verge of tears, fidgeting with the hem of her dress and refusing to meet my gaze. “Aimee!” I demand.
“I’m so sorry, Carson. It was an accident… I didn’t know what I was doing and I…I deleted the files from the cloud server. Everything regarding the Russian deal is gone,” she finally admits in a whisper, and my eyes widen in shock.
As much as I want to be angry, there’s little time for that. Aimee grinds her teeth, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Just tell them I screwed up. Surely it can be fixed,” she pleads, fear shining in her gaze.
The possibility of throwing Aimee under the bus doesn’t even occur to me, and even as she’s mentioned it, I refuse to consider it. Our only out has been flushed down the metaphorical toilet.
While the situation seems grim, I notice that the security guards for the venue are trying to keep the Russian businessmen under control. A fight breaks out, and my heart hammers in my chest. The remaining guard watching us darts away to deal with the disturbance, and I grab Aimee by the hand.
“Be quiet, keep your head down, and run,” I hiss.
Leaping to my feet, I nudge her ahead of me and towards the exit. We’re nearly out the door, and I breathe a sigh of relief when it seems we’re home free. An abrupt shout for us to stop puts a snag in that plan, however, and Aimee looks towards me imploringly.
“The car! Get to the car,” I cry out. I grab her by the wrist, pulling her along with me as we dart through the parking lot. She kicks off the heels she’d worn for the flashy event, and it’s no small wonder that she hasn’t already broken an ankle.
“Shit, they’re right behind us!” she swears, speeding up now that her movement is less limited. It takes me only a few strides to catch up with her, and I can’t help but admire her form as she runs for the car.
Shaking off the dirty thoughts that swirl through my mind, I grab the key from my pocket and hit the button to unlock all the car doors. Aimee slides across the hood of the car, swiftly pulling herself into the passenger seat as I dive behind the steering wheel. I’m so preoccupied that I barely register what a badass move the young woman had just pulled, but when I do, my lips twitch into a smile. I jam the key into the ignition, glancing into the rearview mirror just in time to see the crowd closing in on us.
“Hold on to your ass,” I shout, shifting the car into drive and slamming the pedal to the metal.
The tires squeal, and for a moment, I’m afraid they won’t catch. However, that fear is almost immediately squashed as the car surges forward, out of the parking lot. Aimee twists in her seat, watching the scene unfolding behind us.
Hopefully, I have a bit of time before it occurs to the men to get in their pricy cars and chase us—or worse yet, alert the authorities that we’re fleeing the scene. The sound of burning rubber from behind us assures me that I have even less time than I anticipated, and Aimee growls as she fumbles with her cellphone.
“Mike’s number. Go!” she cries out, and without really thinking, I recite the number from memory.
She dials the number, clutching her phone white-knuckled before abruptly reaching out to grab the steering wheel, forcing me to turn down a side road that’s entirely off the course we’re headed. I cry out in shock, but take the turn she’s indicated as the call connects.
“Mike, get Taylor and get the plane ready. We’ll be there in five, and you’d better be ready to fly,” she shouts, listening to the other man for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, the deal went sour. We’ll talk about it later. Just be ready.” She swipes her phone to end the call, glancing behind us.
“I have no idea which way we’re going,” I admit, following the back roads as far as I’m able. “That last turn threw me off.”
“I may have gotten us into this mess, but I’m going to get us out of it. Just trust me, Carson,” she urges.
I nod, glancing briefly behind us.
“We lost half of them on that last turn; there are only a few following us, now. When you come to the next right turn, make it. We’re going to go in a circle to confuse them, then we’ll hit the runway before they can figure out where we’ve gone,” Aimee says quickly, continuing to stare through the back windshield.
The abrupt sound of a gunshot pierces the air, and the glass of the back window shatters. Aimee gasps in shock, but grips my arm and urges me to keep driving.
“I probably should have clarified the sort we were making a deal with,” I mutter, and she laughs weakly, pressing her free hand to her bleeding cheek. Some broken glass has marred her perfect skin. “How come you know all of these evasive tactics, anyway?” I inquire, and she laughs, a high-pitched and borderline hysterical sound.
“I had a phase in college where I was really into action movies. Maybe it was of some use, after all,” she giggles.
My eyes widen, and I swerve into the next turn, the side of the car scraping against the side of a building as we go.
“Jesus Christ, Aimee. You’re kidding, right?” I manage weakly. She exhales a shuddering sigh, dabbing at her cheek with a tissue she seems to have produced from out of nowhere.
“Afraid not. We’ve lost them, though. Don’t get back on the main roads. I have an idea of where the airport is, and there’s gotta be a back way,” she says blithely.
I’m simultaneously struck by the overwhelming desire to shout at her or kiss her. I can’t decide which. Maybe both. Managing to rein in my emotions, I follow her directions until we pull out of the back alleyway. It seems we’ll be in the clear soon, but as I make another turn, my heart breaks. There’s a roadblock just ahead of us. We’re trapped.
“Don’t stop,” Aimee hisses, resting her hand on my shoulder and forcing me to lower my head. “Keep your head low, but smash through. They’ll shoot, but we’re so close.”
It doesn’t occur to me to argue with her. We'll either lose our lives trying to escape, or lose our lives after surrender. Perhaps I’d seen a few too many action movies myself, but Carson Sharpe isn’t one to give up so easily.
“If we don’t survive this—” I begin, but she levels me with a glare so intense that my mouth goes dry.
“Don’t even. Brace yourself, and whatever you do, don’t take your foot off the gas,” she says loudly.
Sirens echo all around us, and I can hear the shouts over a megaphone for us to come to a complete stop. I almost feel bad for the men; they have no way of knowing what’s about to happen.
Aimee’s grip tightens on my arm, and I inhale a deep breath as we plow through the barricade, gunfire assaulting the vehicle. The bullets manage to miss the both of us, though the car doesn’t seem as if it will hold out much longer. To my utter delight, however, the sight of the small airport we’d landed in only a few hours before comes into sight just over the next hill. I whoop victoriously, reaching out to grip Aimee’s hand.
“We’re going to make it. I’ll be damned; we’re going to make it,” I breathe.
She remains silent, keeping her eyes on the road behind us. The car begins to sputter and choke, slowing markedly, and I push it to its last limits until we roll to a stop only a few feet away from the runway.
We leap out of our seats immediately, and Mike looks startled to see us. His eyes widen even more dramatically as he sees the convoy of vehicles on our tail.
“Holy shit! Get in, come on!” he shouts. “Taylor, ready the engine. We need to get out of here like twenty minutes ago!”
“Get in here and take the controls,” Taylor shouts, lurching out of his seat as the plane starts to move. Coming to the side door, he reaches out to take my hand and drag me into the open door. I grab Aimee in turn, and we tumble into the plane, Taylor
dragging the door shut behind us just before the jet begins to lift off.
“Holy shit, Taylor,” I manage, glancing up at the man. He smiles wryly, helping Aimee to her feet. She gasps shakily for breath, throwing her arms him. He stiffens, but accepts her clumsy embrace.
“Hey now! There will be time for celebration when we’re back in the United States. Get up here and help me, Taylor,” Mike calls out.
Now that we’re alone, Aimee turns her attention to me, her skin flushed from exertion, her hair unkempt, and her forehead damp with sweat. She’s a mess. I can’t imagine I look any different, but in that moment, I realize just how beautiful she truly is.
Now, we’re home free.
Chapter Fifteen
Aimee
As the jet gains altitude over Saint Petersburg, my heart nearly shatters at the danger I’d inadvertently subjected Carson to. If I hadn’t been so careless in my job as his assistant, we wouldn’t have had any danger to evade. Tears spring unbidden to my eyes, and I quickly move to wipe them away.
“Aimee,” Carson whispers, gripping me by the chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. The anger I expect to see is entirely absent, and it only makes my tears fall faster.
“I’m so sorry, Carson. I never meant for any of this to happen.” I blubber, gasping as he draws me in closer.
He rests his chin atop my head, his soft chuckle rumbling through me. Failing to see the humor in the situation, I bury my face in his broad chest and try to swallow my choking sobs.
“My sweet, dear Aimee…if it hadn’t been for you remaining at my side through all this, I have no doubt that I would be six feet under right now. You saved my life tonight. But more than that, you risked your own in the process,” he murmurs, and his smile is just a little mournful.
He brushes his thumb just below the wound on my cheek, and I shiver at the touch.
