“You’ve got to be kidding.” I slapped him playfully. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
“I have plans for you Scarlet. All you have to do is follow my lead.”
“We’ll see.” I had to finish this mission and continue looking for my mother. My plans didn’t include spending my life enslaved as someone’s secretary.
He walked me to the dance floor and gripped me in a close embrace. I held him tightly, smelling his manly cologne and enjoying the tension between us as I followed his lead. We danced a slow tango and I wanted to rip his shirt open with my teeth. I bit my lip. I wonder how he is in bed.
“You’re squeezing my hand,” he said.
“Sorry.” I loosened my grip.
“That’s better. Just relax into my arms,” he said. “I’m leaving on Sunday for that conference in Atlantic City. I’ll miss you.”
The Last Secretary
I emailed Conan as soon as I got to the office on Monday morning. He and a few of his managers were at a conference in Atlantic City for the week, and he’d left instructions for me to report in every morning and evening. He emailed a few times a day to give me work and check his messages.
As I was finishing up on Thursday, Christophe stopped by my desk.
“Errm, Scarlet, about what happened last week …”
“Yeah, what about it? You were a total creep. What the hell were you thinking? I was about to … clock you with my heel.” I was still furious about his weird behavior and I almost told him I was about to slit his throat.
“I’m really sorry.” He stood up straight and looked very businesslike. “I just wanted to talk to you. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“So, what is it?” He looked sort of hot for an awkward creep. What am I thinking? I have to control myself! I’m an assassin, not a pathetic little worker rat looking for love in a large corporation.
“I wanted to warn you about something.” Christophe narrowed his eyes and looked around. “It’s about Conan,” he said softly. “Let me make it up to you. Fancy a pizza? I’m buying.”
“You aren’t going to get weird on me again, are you?”
“No.”
“Okay,” I said sternly. I had to know whatever it was that he wanted to tell me about Conan.
“Great.”
“Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.
* * *
We went back to the pizza place with the wood-fired oven and dug into two medium pizzas.
“You wanted to tell me something about Conan,” I said, wiping my mouth.
“Yeah.” Christophe took a bite of his pizza. “He’s doing the exact same thing to you as he did to his last secretary. She ended up quitting and I’m sure it was because of him.”
With his French accent, “exact” sounded like “axed.”
“You have to be more specific. What did he do to her?”
“He pretended he had to check on buildings at night and he made her go with him, but he was just bringing her along to impress her or whatever. Then he started buying her nice clothes and taking her dancing. He’s doing all the same things with you.”
“So what happened?”
“Hmm.” Christophe looked down at the table. “I think they got engaged.”
“And?”
“She left.” He looked up at me. “I don’t know the details, but you have to keep your relationship professional. I don’t want you to leave because of him.” He reached across the table and held my hands. “Scarlet, you’re the reason I haven’t left yet.”
“Hold on a second.” I snatched my hands out of his grip. “What are you telling me? Do you like me?”
“Yeah … a little. You’re very attractive.” He shifted in his chair and stared at me. “I know you’re dating the big dog, but I’m the one for you.”
“Christophe, I think you’re cute … awkward and really cute … and I’m flattered, but I don’t think of you that way.” I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“I understand.” Disappointment washed over his face. “But I do care about you. If you ever need anything Scarlet, anything at all, you can count on me.”
“Thank you. That’s sweet. Finish your pizza,” I said, shoving a bite into my mouth.
My blood was boiling. I sometimes noticed Conan gazing into the distance, his mind somewhere else. Am I just another play thing for him? Was he thinking of her, or some other woman?
Hudson River
When Conan got back to New York he had a big backlog of work. We spent the week catching up on correspondence and clearing his desk.
Before going to Tango Milonga on Friday, we stopped at Battery Park. We sat on a bench along the Hudson, across from the glittering lights of New Jersey. The faint glow of the city lights illuminated our skin.
“Scarlet … you look dazzling,” Conan whispered in my ear.
He put his arm around my waist and held me close. I ran my hand down the sleeve of his linen suit and placed it on his firm chest, closing my eyes and laying my head on his shoulder.
I was disgusted by this man … and yet drawn to him. Does everyone in the department know he was engaged to his last secretary? It was humiliating enough that everyone at work knew about her except me, and even worse because I was an undercover agent on a mission. I’m an assassin in my real life, not this man’s subservient secretary and stand in girlfriend.
Conan gently lifted my chin and I studied his handsome features. His strong jaw, narrow eyes, and thin lips worked in harmony to create a masculine—yet beautiful—face.
“You were on my mind last week,” he said. “I missed you.”
I watched his lips move as he spoke, but I couldn’t take in what he was saying. Anger was simmering beneath my calm façade. I had to pretend that I knew nothing.
“What are you thinking?” He playfully shook my chin.
“Sorry.” I smiled. “It was a long day.”
“You take work too seriously Scarlet. You’re just a secretary.”
“What does that mean? I will have you know that, in fact, secretaries run the world mister. The bosses would be completely lost without their secretaries.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “That came out wrong. What I meant is that you take yourself too seriously. I want you to enjoy yourself, enjoy your life. Don’t let a hard day at work ruin your night.”
“Secretaries have no choice but to take themselves seriously. Not only do we have to do our own work, we have to make sure the boss looks good … and that’s not always easy.”
“You do great work and a spectacular job of making me look good.” Conan chuckled. “I’m glad you’re mine miss ssserious sssecretary.”
“I am not yours.” I stuck out my bottom lip like a petulant child.
“You were mine after our first kiss.”
If he thinks I’m his, why hasn’t he been honest about his past? I’m just his rebound girl. We’re only using each other—I need him to get information and he needs me for company. That’s fair enough. I can’t let myself become emotionally compromised. A kiss is just a kiss, nothing more.
I resisted as he tried to pull me closer. I wanted to slap his face, but part of me wanted to get lost in him, to be one with him. I missed him when he was away. I missed his kissable lips … and the danger. I couldn’t get emotionally involved with my target, but I loved the thrill of playing with fire.
His wolf eyes penetrated my defenses and I could no longer resist. I let go and pushed my tongue deep into his mouth. I sucked in his breath as my tongue swirled around his teeth. The forbidden and the sublime were pulsing through my veins at the same time.
He pulled back and looked at me. “You’re so gorgeous,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “And a great kisser.”
I kissed him hard, wanting to consume every inch of his desire, his essence, his soul.
“I knew you wouldn’t leave me for Christophe while I was away.”
“Wha
t … who?”
“Never mind. Don’t stop kissing me.” He locked his lips to mine.
* * *
The limo driver dropped us off at Conan’s apartment after the tango social. The doorman greeted us with a smile as he held open the heavy door.
We walked into the grand black marble foyer. There were two security guards and CCTV cameras everywhere. Conan nodded at the guards as he led me to the elevator.
He entered his security code, a green light came on, and the elevator swiftly rose to the twentieth floor. The doors opened to reveal a private hall outside his apartment.
He took a tiny silver sundial key ring from his pocket. He used two keys to unlock four locks on his front door. As soon as we walked inside, he slipped a key card into a reader. Jazz music and soft lighting filled the apartment.
“Very cool,” I said.
“I like being able to program the lights and music before I get home. It sort of sold me on the apartment. Everything I looked at had the standard doorman, pool, and parking garage, but this place is special.”
I walked toward the open kitchen and noticed all the marble—the tiles, the countertops, the island, the long breakfast bar. There was nothing on the counters, but there was a stainless steel knife block on the breakfast bar.
“How does a whiskey sound?” asked Conan.
“We’ve already had quite a bit of wine, but I’m game.”
“Good. Take a seat.” He walked around the island to a cupboard.
I sat on one of the designer leather stools at the breakfast bar and admired the apartment. It was sparsely furnished but tastefully decorated. The simple color scheme was calming, and there were a few select pieces of art on the walls and bookshelves.
Conan placed a small tray on the breakfast bar and sat next to me. The jazz music was the perfect accompaniment to the tinkling of ice cubes dropping into glasses. He poured the golden liquid from a crystal decanter.
“It’s a single-malt,” he said, putting a glass on a coaster in front of me.
He was a smooth operator … a little too smooth. I wondered how many women he’d entertained here.
“So, what did you miss about me last week?” I asked as I tilted my head.
“Everything,” he said, clinking his glass to mine and taking a sip of whiskey. “I love your company.” He glanced at my shoulders before looking away. “Scarlet, are you comfortable being here … alone with me?”
“Conan,” I said. I took a sip of whiskey and it burned the back of my throat. “I think the real question is, are you comfortable with me being here?”
“Of course I am. What do you mean?”
“Your apartment’s beautiful, but it’s practically a show apartment. It doesn’t look lived-in at all. I’ve never seen such a pristine bachelor pad. It’s almost clinical. I get the feeling any mess or disorder could send you into a tailspin.” I took another sip of whiskey. “I think you’re a neat freak and a control freak,” I snarled.
“I like order, and striving for perfection is part of my personality.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Well,” he took off his jacket, folded it lengthwise, and draped it over the breakfast bar. “I try to keep everything in its place because I like to know where things are. A lot of the kids in the orphanage were thieves. If anyone got something nice … from a teacher or someone … one of the bigger kids would steal it. You never knew what sort of chaos and turmoil a day would bring. I can’t live like that again.” He gulped down his whiskey and poured another one.
“I see,” I said, taking a steak knife out of the block. I ran the blade lightly across my fingers.
“Scarlet, what are you doing?”
“Playing with a knife.”
“Put it back,” he said, grabbing for my hand.
“Ha, too slow!” I laughed. I twisted the tip of the knife in my palm like a turning top. I was thinking about torturing him, to make him tell me about his ex.
“I’m not amused. Life is unpredictable enough without you making it more so. Please Scarlet, put it down.”
“Humans are unpredictable.”
“You’re right, but I don’t try to control people unless I have to … or they want me to. Don’t make me take that away from you.”
“You should try controlling someone sometime. It might be fun,” I said, putting the knife down. I finished the rest of my whiskey in one go.
“No knives tonight,” he said. He put the knife back in the stainless steel block and put it away under the kitchen island.
“Aw, you’re no fun,” I teased.
“Don’t be so sure about that,” he said, sitting down and finishing his whiskey. “I can be plenty of fun … I assure you.”
He refilled our glasses and stared at me like a beast salivating over cornered prey. The only difference was that he was a refined beast.
“You’re such a contradiction,” I said. “You’re either prim and proper or on the verge of becoming a wild animal.”
“You bring it out in me.”
“Are you sure it’s not the alcohol bringing something out in you? You’ve had a lot to drink tonight.”
“Scarlet, I’ve been a perfect gentleman. It’s been over a month since our first kiss, and now I’m ready to take what’s mine. And don’t pretend that you don’t want it too. The way you kissed me earlier …”
“Take what’s yours?” I cut him off. “You’re getting rather possessive.”
“So what? I am possessive. And I don’t like Christophe talking to you.”
“Christophe?”
“He’s been sniffing around you since you got to Wilmar.”
“Sniffing around me? What am I, a dog?”
“He’s the goddamn dog and I don’t like the way he looks at you,” said Conan, throwing back his whiskey and slamming down the glass. “He wants you Scarlet. I’ll fire the little bastard before that happens.”
“Conan, get a grip,” I said. “Christophe is my pal, nothing more. And you aren’t going to fire him. Anyway, I don’t even know what you and I are to each other. Are we colleagues having a nice evening, or is this something else?”
“Don’t play games with me little girl. You know I want you. I want you to be mine … exclusively mine.”
“Exclusively yours?”
“Yes. I don’t share my holes with anyone.”
Did he just say that? What a prick.
“My holes, as you so eloquently call them, are mine!”
“I believe your body’s telling me something else.” He stroked my cheek with his long fingers before resting them on my lips. “You’re blushing and your pupils are dilated.” He looked into my eyes with a wild stare. “You’re mine and you can’t deny it. You’re gagging for it. You need me inside you and that’s what you’re going to get.”
“You’re a beast.” I stood up and walked to the door. Why doesn’t the White Queen want me to kill him?
I reached for the doorknob and he yanked me back by the arm, turning me around to face him. He squeezed my shoulders, sending a rush of paralyzing currents down to my toes. All thoughts of leaving were extinguished in that instant.
“Say yes,” he commanded, the smell of whiskey wafting off his breath.
“Yes.” What’s wrong with me?
He pressed his lips to mine and rammed his tongue inside my mouth. I was ravenous for him, for his touch. I needed him.
“Follow me,” he said.
I followed Conan into his bedroom. He turned around and kissed me with force, pushing me down onto his king-sized four-poster bed. He kneaded my breasts with one hand as the other hungrily reached beneath my dress and caressed my thighs.
“No!” I shrieked.
“Stop denying yourself.” He pulled his hand out from under my dress. “Tell me you want me.”
“Aargh. Yes! I want you!” I pulled him toward me, clutching at his broad shoulders.
He unzipped my dress and pulled it off in one swift motion
, tossing it on the floor. I was completely vulnerable, lying underneath him in nothing but my red lingerie.
“You came prepared for this. You want me.” He snickered and looked deep into my eyes.
“Shut up.” I slapped his face and he turned away.
“You bring out the beast in me.” He turned back to face me and smiled.
He began unbuttoning his white shirt and I unbuttoned the cuffs. He pulled off his sleeves and flung his shirt on the nightstand.
I touched his bare skin for the first time. He had a six-pack and well-defined muscles. The feel of his taught body sent thrills racing through every part of me as I breathed in his natural musky scent.
We groped and kissed and nibbled each other as we fought for control, our bodies burning like a scorching fire. I pushed against him, biting his neck as I climbed on top of him and straddled his manly frame.
“You don’t realize how much you’re turning me on,” said Conan, looking up at me with a big grin. “Stop struggling you little thing.”
He flipped me over and got on top of me. He pushed me into the soft bed, pinning me underneath him. He gave my lips a deep, pulsating kiss as his racing heart beat against my chest. He slid his fingers down my stomach, stopping between my legs.
“No … don’t.” I desperately wanted it, wanted him. What he was doing felt good, amazing, but I didn’t want to show him.
“You’re just a horny slut waiting for me to own you,” he whispered in my ear as he pushed his fingers into my panties.
“No! I’m not,” I whispered as my back arched.
“I’ll prove it,” he said, circling his fingers between my legs in places unknown to me.
I gave a soft moan as I squirmed on the bed. I was helpless. I couldn’t resist this man. I was supposed to be the one in control, but he was controlling me.
“How long has it been since you were with a man?” he whispered as he cupped my little girl with his strong hands and bit my earlobe.
“I don’t know.” My head was spinning. I could hardly think. “Many years.”
“Do you want me now?”
“No … yes … no …”
“You want me to enter you,” he said, spreading my legs. “You don’t have to say anything. You’re dripping wet and I know what you need.”
Red Hourglass Page 12
