by Sylvia Banks
There was just one small problem. Warren and his extortion.
Chapter 7
At the end of the day I decided I’d leave, change and meet Warren back at the office. If he wanted us to take separate cars that was fine. I didn’t know how all this worked. It was my first time being blackmailed. Still, looking my best, no matter the circumstance, was a virtue.
Roy’s was the type of restaurant that made you feel out of place if you didn’t dress appropriately, so I wore the only designer evening gown I owned. Never underestimate the power of a plain black dress.
The front was a tight “V” cut while the bottom flared out. My auburn hair curled around my cleavage and waved like wings when I walked. Black platform shoes gave me six extra inches in height and still, the top of my head only reached to Warren’s shoulder.
Right on the dot the door to my boss’ office shut with a metal clink at six-thirty. Warren stood with his hands in his pants pockets and scanned me with his impassive that’ll due expression. He wasn’t fooling me anymore. I’d seen his eyes burn in lust and watched him come apart while I teased him. Thinking about his unrestrained explosion threatened to overflow my panties with droplets of want. How could such an arrangement be so sexy?
I flipped my hair back and said, “Shall we go? I haven’t had anything filling yet today.”
Like a switch his eyes lit up and Warren became the spitting image of his brother, only with dark hair. His twitch of a smile flashed. His lips parted as if he would retort, and then the electricity powering his playful expression shut off. His lips compressed. A stiff posture depleted the warmth in his non-verbal greeting just a nanosecond ago. Bi-polar much?
“We’ll take my vehicle,” he said.
My vehicle—who says that? Vehicle indeed. It’s a damn car. “Fine.”
He pulled his hands out of his pockets and stiffened his back. “You don’t approve?”
I grabbed my purse. “I said it’s fine.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is it okay or not?”
Groaning a sigh I said, “It’s f—” I was going to say fine but the tick in his eye tipped me off. This man had obviously been abused with that word. Sometimes when a woman said “fine” it was used as a weapon. A passive aggressive method to not say what was really going on. Remembering my conversation with Barbara and Dave, I cringed. His wife. Or rather, ex-wife. Not that I knew about her but she sounded like the type to use the word “fine” as a means to deflect speaking up about her own feelings.
“Going with you in your car is okay,” I said. “Perfectly acceptable.”
His shoulders lowered an inch. It was like part of an iceberg chipped off from the source. He was still on guard, but he wasn’t as nervous. That was a bit of a revelation. Was he afraid of me? No. He was the one with the power.
As he walked me to the elevators he never invaded my personal bubble. He motioned me in, like a gentleman, then stood a good distance with his eyes forward during the ride down. I thought he might make a move in the elevator but he remained the cool, in control boss I always knew.
He led me to the underground parking to his car. The vehicle happened to be a green Aston Martin. He was right. His ride deserved more respect than calling it a car.
Warren opened the passenger side door and I slipped in the seat feeling the snug grip and comfortable lean of the back rest. Warren rounded the Aston Martin and folded himself into the driver’s side. He turned his eyes to mine and said, “You look lovely, by the way.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Not fabulous?”
He acknowledged the play on my nickname with a smirk, started the engine and drove. Every so often, he clenched his jaw like he wanted to say something but didn’t. This man, whoever he was, couldn’t be my boss. My boss spoke his mind, blurted out rude insults, and generally had no filter when it came to manners or speech. It was if he was trying to impress me. Which was ridiculous. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it because I didn’t know this person.
“Can I have the verbally imprudent guy that used extortion to get me to sleep with him back?”
Warren flicked his eyes to me and then back at the road. He blinked rapidly and said, “What would you like me to say?”
“What is it you wanted to say before?”
Silence. Then he said, “I’ve forgotten.”
“Bullshit.”
That got his lips to curve, if only for a moment. “You seem bold as ever.”
“Yeah, we’re alike in that department.”
“Do you think I won’t go through it? You think I won’t upload that video to the world?”
That startled me, but I wasn’t going to back down. Submitting would utterly destroy my crazy redhead image. “I think that if you wanted to fuck me than you should’ve just asked.”
He gripped the steering wheel at the ten and two positions. He took driving so seriously. Actually, Warren took everything seriously. Yet he was so cavalier with his words. Except for tonight.
He drove the rest of the way in silence and I didn’t say anything more. When we arrived, the valet opened my door and we went inside. The cute hostess looked up our reservation and led us to our table. Roy’s had an open air feel with a touch of luxury without being extravagant. My boss kept a respectful distance away from me, not touching or showing any signs of doing anything inappropriate. How dull. The fierce jungle cat inside of Warren was stowed safely inside. Too bad. Not that I wanted him to attack me on the table, but I thought this blackmailing me for sex would be more…exciting. This was like a date.
We sat in a high back booth, giving us the illusion of privacy. Tables out on the floor had an audience view of those in the booths. The seats were leather, the room was spacious but I’d never been seated in a booth before. That’s because I was a nobody. The round stalls were reserved for spectacles. I guess the CEO of a major company counted as a spectacle. Usually movie stars, politicians or famous people sat in these seats.
“So, tell me,” he said. “What is the real reason why you don’t want to go to accounting?”
Geez. When was he going to get it? “There is no secret motive. There is no hidden agenda.”
“There has to be a reason. You went to great lengths to prevent from being transferred, even though you’d be great at it.”
How many times could I say the same thing in a different way? “I just really, really don’t like numbers. Haven’t you ever done something you wish you’d never done?”
“Even so…” He pulled back and his eyes roamed my face. “Don’t you think threatening to quit is a bit too drastic?”
Wow. Ellis was right. They wanted to retain me as an employee. “Is me leaving a threat?”
A crisp suit-wearing waiter popped over to our table. “Hello Mr. Trost, I’m Paul, I’ll be your server tonight.”
Wow, Paul the waiter knew Warren by name. Did he come here a lot? Or was my boss really that well known? Well, duh. Probably. We were seated in the special booths of the elite.
“Thank you Paul, I’ll have a single malt.” Warren turned to me.
“House red wine,” I said. What the hell—I wasn’t driving.
Paul left and Warren stiffened in his seat. “Do you plan on seeing my brother again?”
“Do you want me to see him again?”
His jaw clenched and he uttered, “Do as you like. You’re free time is yours.”
I snorted. “Like now?”
With my words, the speaks-his-mind boss I’d managed to pull out instantly clammed up. His manner snapped behind a cool shield. Damn. Me and my big mouth. Just when I was getting somewhere.
“If you don’t wish to be here, we can leave.” He started sliding out of the booth.
I grabbed him. “No.” I’d earned this dinner and I was going to have it.
He pinned me with his eyes and his anger scorched my heart. Behind the fiery glance was a spark of pain. More specifically, rejection. “Make up your damn mind,” He growled.
What was with
the hot and cold? “I didn’t say I wanted to leave.”
Warren let out a sigh of frustration and scooted back towards me.
Our waiter returned with a scotch and red wine. “I’ll be back in a moment to take your order,” Paul said.
My boss gave Paul a warm smile. “Thank you.”
And just as fast as he set the drinks down Paul was gone.
“You know what your problem is?” I said.
He tsked. “What?”
“You try to please people too much.”
He laughed but he didn’t sound amused. “How’s that?”
I smiled. “You’re trying to do what it is you think others want you to do.” Did that make sense? Not by much. He might not understand what he was doing.
He lifted a wry eyebrow. “You think I’m trying to please people by reading their minds, is that it?”
“Yes.” I said in total seriousness.
Warren unrolled his napkin and set it in his lap. “Where do you get that from?”
“Just now, you were going to leave because you thought I wanted to leave.” I let that sink in and said, “You were trying to read my mind. Do me a favor. Listen to what I say.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” He took a swallow of scotch and continued, “You say you want me to listen, but what you really want is for me to read between the lines.”
Damaged goods. Definitely. My heart ached for him.
“Which is why I don’t accept your reasons for staying away from accounting,” he said.
“Fine,” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You want to know why?”
He scowled back at me.
The waiter slipped in at the ready. “Are you and your guest ready to order?”
We snapped to attention. Warren’s features softened and he nodded to our attendant. “Yes,” he said.
It was the opposite reaction I thought a high powered CEO would give to a waiter. The dichotomy between the two was vast and yet my boss treated him as well as a good acquaintance. Not only that, but Warren was expecting an important answer from me. It was reason enough for him to bark at any interruptions, yet I watched Warren attentively give the waiter our order and say “thank you” before Paul left.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
Warren shrugged. “Not really, why?”
“Because you were really nice to him.” I said. “Were you ever a waiter?” I couldn’t imagine it, but perhaps he knew how hard it was to wait on people.
He shook his head. “No.”
Huh. I’d had some experience working my cousin’s bakery for a summer when I was young, so I understood how some people treated those they thought were below them. Those that treated you with respect when you were waiting on them was rare.
He turned to me with an expectant stare. I felt like a sitting duck. He remained intense and focused solely on me. My mind went blank and he waited in silence. He cleared his throat. “So Ms. Renzi, why don’t you want to be in accounting?”
Damn. He’d taken control of the conversation again. He wasn’t going to let it go. Might as well start from the beginning. “My family is big on education so at my mother’s request I went to college. I wanted to go to a vocational school. It didn’t happen.”
The accusing expression on his face turned to interest.
“I happen to be really good at accounting,” I said. “But I never wanted to be an accountant.”
“What do you want to be?”
Normally I’d shout out I want to be a baker, but with Warren I was shy about my dream. “I’d like to own my own bakery,” I mumbled to my hands. “Go ahead, laugh. Everyone else does.”
Silence. I kept my head down and fiddled with the napkin and silverware.
“Do you have a business plan?” Warren said.
I looked up. He wasn’t even smiling. If anything he blocked off any emotion on his face. The fact that he took my dream seriously bolstered my confidence.
“Yeah,” I said. “An old one. It was the model for my business class.”
There was a long moment where he seemed to be evaluating me. Warren leaned in and took possession of my mouth. His lips claimed my body and his tongue branded my heart. The keening animal kissing me fought to shed his civility. Warren ravaged my mouth, in front of the entire restaurant.
My hands pushed him back and we separated. Breathless I tried to scoot back away from him. His eyes had gone wild, his hands reached for my waist and pulled me closer.
“Don’t run from me.” His voice was hoarse.
I spoke through my teeth. “Don’t undress me in public.”
Warren let go and snapped back to his normal jaded exterior. I looked around to see if anyone was looking. Nobody seemed to care. Yet, I got the feeling that people were watching us. These booths were meant to showcase certain guests as a display. Wine, food and entertainment by way of spying on the elite. I came because it was an expensive restaurant with really good food. Silly me. Being part of the ambiance was never my thing but at least I dressed for the part.
Our appetizer of salmon on rice appeared and Paul dashed off.
“How much you want to bet someone took our picture?” I said. I wasn’t mad, the concern was all for him.
Warren stopped eating and his lips thinned. “Does that bother you?”
“It doesn’t bother me, but what about you? Do you want rumors going around your dating a nobody?”
“On the contrary, they’d say I was dating a beautiful, mysterious woman.”
“Until they found out I worked for you.”
He shrugged and shoved a piece of sushi in his mouth.
Did he really not care? Or maybe the rumor about his ex-wife had cured him of humility. High profile divorces would get around, but I wasn’t into tabloids. I never had the time or interest. His name could’ve been plastered on billboards all over town and I’d never know.
I took the salmon in chopsticks and let the fish explode in my mouth. Salmon could be the blandest or the tastiest fish depending on how it was prepared. This was fresh and cut to perfection. Just how I like it. The rice not too sticky and the salmon fresh.
“Mmmmm…” I moaned with my eyes closed. “So good.”
Warren looked over at me with hunger in those intense eyes. I swallowed my mouth-full of fish mostly because I felt like prey. I wanted to run and not look back. Call a cab, get out of this dinner, but something in his eyes told me to stay. Running would only be futile. The most disturbing part was the way I felt my soul being scooped out. Warren was worse than a regular playboy like Ellis. Warren was a soul eater. Something more than a heart-breaker. Any girl crazy enough to fall in love with this man was in trouble. I looked away before all my secrets could be stolen.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” Warren said softly.
“I’m not.” My automatic response had me facing him again. His profile was all sharp lines. “At least not for the reason you think.”
Chapter 8
Warren drove his Aston Martin back to the office like he owned a sports car and the road. One out of two of those items seemed enough for him to slalom other cars on the road. The combination with Los Angeles traffic was a ticket waiting to happen. To my dismay, Warren was not deterred by a red and blue light bar and we got to the office fairly quick.
When he entered the garage at work I said, “My car is on the first floor.”
“That’s nice,” Warren said. He drove to the third floor, to his assigned parking spot and cut the engine. He turned in his seat to face me. “You still need to be taught how to take directions.”
“Excuse me?” I said.
“This morning, I believe I gave you explicit instructions. Instructions you didn’t follow.”
“This morning?” What was he talking about? I did take a personal phone call, but I’d done all my work. “I did everything you asked.”
Warren folded out of his vehicle, came to my side and opened the passenger door. “Come to my office.”
“I’ll show you when we get to my office.” He took hold of my elbow and didn’t let go. From the parking garage, to the elevator to his office door he kept one hand on me. I racked my brain for any reasonable explanation of what he was talking about. I finished my reports. I filed everything. Did I miss an email?
He unlocked the door to his office and led me in. After securing the bolt behind him, he took off his jacket and set it on his chair. His sleek modern desk was empty. No laptop, phone, not even a pencil holder adorned the top space. So how could he show me what I’d done wrong?
Standing in front of his opulent desk he said, “Come here.”
My knees buckled looking at the man who personified dangerous. I lifted my chin in defiance. “I’ll have you know that I’ve done everything you asked.” But instinctively I knew this wasn’t about work. I couldn’t walk. Being alone with him made it hard to breath. I was caught between his vivid soul-piercing gaze and his fierce command. Crushed by intensified need my silk panties felt heavy from moisture.
He narrowed his eyes. “Again, you fail to follow orders.”
“Huh?” Orders? What orders?
Warren pointed at the floor before his desk. “Come. Here.”
This time I broke free from paralysis and shuffled to his side. My heart beat fast as a race horse before the derby.
He grabbed the back of my neck and consumed my lips. Just as in the restaurant my mind went blank, but this time I allowed the caress of his ardent tongue. Without separating from the embrace, he maneuvered me backwards until I sat on his desk in panties that squished upon contact. That would leave a wet mark.
