by CM Albert
“Is that what you really want?” he asked, practically growling.
“I don’t know what I want, Pierce. I’m terrified of getting my heart broken again. I’m scared of losing myself in you—because every time I’m around you, all I can think about is the sinful things I want you to do to my body. The ways I want you to push me. Corrupt me. Make me feel dirty and alive at the same time.”
My heart was pounding.
Pierce was so achingly beautiful. More beautiful than any man had a right being. Could I really walk away from him and never let him touch me again? See him around the office and wonder if someone else was on her knees for him just a room away? The little green monster in me gnashed her teeth and bared her claws.
Oh, fuck no!
But there was a small part of me that hesitated—just the tiniest bit—because in less than a week, the boy I thought I once loved was coming back into town, all grown up. Seeing him online was one thing. But how would my body react when I got to hug him again? Not to mention my heart . . .
“We don’t have to decide today,” I said quietly.
“No, we don’t. But I—”
Pierce never got a chance to finish his thought because a knock at the door let us know our food had arrived.
I left work that night full and hopeful—which was a much better end to my day than how it started. But I decided to take a rain check on going back to the hotel with him, and he was surprisingly understanding about the whole thing. I didn’t know what our future was going to hold. All I knew was if I kept the door open with Pierce, there was probably going to be a flogger involved.
And that was definitely a silver lining.
That night I talked to my grampa on the phone. I asked him if he remembered Noah, but the name didn’t ring a bell, which worried me. Babs said Sunday was another hard day for him. They were getting more and more frequent.
I hopped in the shower, needing to wash away the stress of my day. I laughed when I took off my lace bra and discovered my nipple clamps still firmly in place. My nipples were sore after wearing them for so long, so I gently massaged them back into shape. When I was toweled off and in my warm jammies, I made myself a cup of hot lemon water so I could snuggle in bed and read myself to sleep.
The doorbell caught me before I could make my way up to the bedroom. I looked at the clock on my phone. Who in the world was at my house at this time of night? I marched to the entryway and lifted the small vertical blinds beside the door so I could see who it was. To my surprise, it was Pierce’s driver.
“Is everything okay?” I asked after opening the door.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said politely. “I have some packages Mr. Abrams asked me to deliver to you tonight. He said it was urgent.”
Urgent, my ass.
“Thank you—” I realized I didn’t even know his name.
He must’ve seen my discomfort. “Harrison.”
“Thank you, Harrison,” I said, accepting the large, black shopping bags from him. “My, Mr. Abrams seems to have gone overboard.”
He chuckled. “Yes, he’s very generous.”
“Well, please tell him I said thank you.”
“I will. I have one more thing for you, Miss. I’ll be right back.”
I deposited the bags on the floor and turned just in time to see Harrison carrying my large, folded wings in his arms. I burst out laughing. “That’s not something you see every day,” I said.
“Indeed.”
“Well, thank you again, Harrison. Please give Mr. Abrams my best.”
The wink he gave me before he headed back to the car told me everything I needed to know. Why did I suddenly feel like Julia Roberts?
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHAY SCRUNCHED HER nose as she gave me the once-over in the elevator. I had to reach deep for Jesus in that moment. I could tell she wanted to say something snarky, but I was not going to open that door so easily for her.
“Do you have a special meeting or something?” she finally asked, unable to mind her own business.
“Why do you ask?”
She looked like she’d eaten something rotten or smelled a stinky fart. “Because you never wear suits, Brynn,” she said, with an emphasis on the duh part of that statement.
“And your point?”
“Are you trying to suck up to the new boss?” she asked pointedly.
More like suck off, not suck up, I wanted to say just to shut her up.
“Are you trying to body shame me, Shay?” I asked. “Can’t a woman wear whatever she wants, whenever she wants? And,” I reminded her, turning tit for tat and sweeping my eyes over her casual outfit choice, “we do work in corporate America, in case you didn’t get the memo.”
The ding of the elevator was my salvation, and I couldn’t get off the elevator fast enough. Despite her obvious issue with my outfit, I actually loved it. She was right—I didn’t usually get this dressed up for work. But I felt very powerful and very sexy. And whether Pierce asked me to or not, I knew I would be making this look a staple in my wardrobe from here on out.
But, of course, Shay couldn’t let it go that easily. She followed me to my office, talking the whole time. “You know you’re not getting the executive editor position now, right, Brynn? I mean, with Mr. Abrams here, your shot is virtually nonexistent. There’s no way Carlisa won’t keep a man like that around when she gets back. She probably already has the CIO position and is just not saying anything yet. I mean, why else would she hire someone so capable if she was just going to let him go in six weeks? It doesn’t make sense.”
Well, she was right about one thing. It didn’t make sense. I didn’t have those answers, either, but I did have insider information thanks to Pierce. But I wasn’t sharing that with her. I glanced toward his office and saw that the door was closed. It was nerve-wracking knowing he’d be on the other side of that door all day.
I turned toward Shay. “I’m not sure what your point is. But my career aspirations—and my wardrobe choices—are really none of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ridiculously busy day.”
I fell into my chair and pulled up my schedule. A meeting had been accepted on my behalf by Rhonda. I now had a one to three time slot with Pierce. I was about to text Lindy when she flew into my office, closed the door, and handed me my hot mocha.
“I got you extra whip today,” she said.
God bless her.
“Where did you go yesterday?” I asked, taking a sip. “I could’ve used the heads-up.”
“Sorry, babe. I had a hot date with Walter, and I was cutting it close as it was,” she said.
“And where exactly was this hot da—whoa!” I finally noticed the enormous ring on her left hand. “Holy shit! Lindy!” I squealed, jumping up. I made my way around the desk and grabbed her hand. “Is that what I think it is?”
She was speechless for once, nodding as she looked down at the giant sparkler. When she looked back up at me, there were tears in her eyes.
I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m so happy for you!”
“I know. I can’t believe it. I’m still in shock.”
I pulled back and grabbed her hand again. “Fuck!” I whispered. “That man is seriously loaded.”
I turned the ring this way and that. “What kind of rock is this?”
It was a pear-shaped diamond of some sort, with tiny diamonds around the main stone and two smaller pear-shaped diamonds on both sides. The setting itself was gold, but I couldn’t tell what color the diamond actually was. It just glowed. From outer space. Because—did I mention—it was ginormous?
“He said it’s a pink diamond, though it looks more like a pale rose gold to me.”
“A pink diamond?” I sputtered. “Lindy, that’s one of the rarest diamonds in the world.”
“I know,” she whispered. “He bought my ring
in London this past summer. He worked with Kensington Parker on its design.”
I whistled. “Do I dare ask how many carats this bad boy is?”
“Fourteen,” she said quietly. “Well, that’s for all the diamonds.”
“Fourteen!” I practically screamed. “Do you know how much that thing had to cost?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No,” she said, but I saw she had some reservation.
“What is it, then? Aren’t you excited?”
“Oh my god, I’m over the moon!” she gushed. “I just—I’m not used to this kind of money, Brynn. Sure, I love being taken care of. I mean, that’s one of the reasons why I love dating older, more experienced men to begin with. But this—this is going to be my life now. I can’t wrap my head around it.”
“Lindy,” I said, “you love this man. Don’t let the ring intimidate you. He hasn’t changed. You haven’t changed. It’s just going to be an adjustment. But the marriage part? That doesn’t freak you out even just a little bit?”
She laughed. “Not at all. I knew when I met Walter I was in trouble.”
I grinned. “We’re going to have to go out and celebrate one night this week!”
“I’d love that,” she said, beaming.
“Has Dan seen it yet?”
She shook her head.
“Good luck with that when he does,” I teased.
The knock at my door startled me. When I looked up, my heart skipped a beat. Pierce was standing there looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored black suit and a crisp white dress shirt. I waved for him to come on in.
“Did I miss the party?” he asked. “I heard some serious squealing going on over here.”
I laughed. “I’m so sorry. It was completely my fault.”
“That’s okay. Just a good reminder that these walls are paper thin,” he said and winked. “Did you get everything you needed for our one o’clock?”
My insides liquified, and I had to press my thighs tightly together.
“I have everything in order,” I confirmed.
“Good. Well, I’ll see you later,” he said. “And Miss Westgate?”
“Yes, Mr. Abrams?”
“Congratulations,” he said, nodding to her hand. “He has good taste.”
She blushed furiously. “Thank you.”
“Have a good morning.”
Pierce shut the door, and I watched as he walked to his office, his eyes trained on mine the whole time.
“Jesus, Brynn!” Lindy hissed.
“What?” I asked, snapping my attention back to her.
“Are you fucking him in the office?”
“Wh—why would you ask that?”
“I saw the way you devoured each other with your eyes. And neither of you is as subtle as you think you are. You’d better be careful.”
“What’s the worst that could happen? He’s not going to let me get fired. Someone smart told me that.”
“How do you really know that, though? You’re playing with fire.”
“Yeah,” I said, sighing. But the desire to be consumed by Pierce was greater than the fear of being burned. It was a very dangerous situation to be in.
“You’re not going to stop, though, are you?”
It was my turn to bite my lip. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m seeing Noah next Tuesday for our business meeting. But he asked me to meet him for dinner at his grandmother’s estate on Wednesday. The one he’s selling.”
“As in a date?”
“As in two old friends getting together, is my take.”
“But what vibe are you really getting?” she asked. She knew me too well.
“I feel like he’s curious to see if we still have a connection. He asked to FaceTime this week, so we could catch up on a more personal level before our meeting. It would be kind of weird to jump right into business negotiations after not seeing each other for eighteen years.”
“True. But is that all this is? What about Pierce?”
I shrugged. “I don’t honestly know. I mean, that man in the office next door? He does things to me, Lindy, you know? But I can’t tell if it’s just because of the multiple orgasms and the huge—”
“Don’t!” she said, putting her hand up and stopping me. “We’re besties, so of course I want to know. But there are some things that might be better if I don’t know about my new boss.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
“Christ!” she muttered, curiosity winning out. “How big?”
I used my hands to show her.
She groaned. “If I wasn’t already engaged . . .”
I laughed.
“Just be careful, okay?” she said, getting serious. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
Me either.
It was the last thing I was looking forward to in any of these scenarios. But with three hearts on the line, it was bound to happen to one of us.
THE MORNING FLEW by, and I was officially done with the Megan Morris manuscript. It was her best yet, and I cried at the end. It was a darling female/female rom-com, and the world really needed more of those. I sent her my style sheet and feedback, as well as the final Word doc with my edits, just in time to grab a quick snack and head into my one o’clock with Pierce.
I’d taken time to brush my teeth, freshen up my makeup, and calm my butterflies. But the minute I stood at his door, knocking like a schoolgirl at the dean’s office, my jitters reappeared. I glanced over my shoulder at the pit. Everyone was heads-down busy, focusing on their work. I could see Dan talking on his phone in his office across the main floor. He lifted a distracted wave my way, then turned in his chair.
Then I saw Shay—and wouldn’t you know it? She was walking my way. I groaned. Hurry up, Pierce! Open the damn door.
Three other women headed my way, too, and said hello. It was as if we were all waiting for the same thing. “Uh, what’s going on?” I asked.
“Your guess is as good as ours,” Quinn said, shrugging. “We got the same invite you did.”
Huh?
I pulled out my phone to check my schedule. Sure enough, the first part of our meeting from one to two had multiple invitees. Somehow, in my excitement about being alone with Pierce, I’d overlooked that small detail.
I glanced around at the group and noticed one common theme: we were all the editors representing the romance genre at Sterling and Masters. I had contemporary and erotic romance. Quinn had historical and time-period. Shay had clean and inspirational romance. Kennedy had all things woo-woo: paranormal, dystopian, post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, fantasy, urban fantasy, and aliens. And Vega had multicultural and LGBTQ. Since Megan Morris’s book had a female/female couple, it had gone to Vega first for a sensitivity read before coming to my desk for final edits.
My attention returned to the reason why we were all here, when the door opened and there stood Pierce, larger than life. My insides turned to goo at the memory of him taking a belt to my backside in this very office just yesterday. As we shuffled in, he said, “Take a seat, everyone. Brynn, why don’t you grab the seat by the window? The leather chair is mine.”
Christ. He wanted me to sit in the same place where he’d bent me over yesterday. My knees nearly buckled. Everyone else walked in and took their seats, Shay sitting right next to where I’d be on the sofa.
Pierce placed a hand on my lower back after closing the door and led me to the conversation area. “I really need to get a conference room table in here,” he said. “Brynn, would you mind asking Rhonda to order me one? I trust you can pick one out to match?”
I swallowed. All eyes were on me. Why would he ask me to do that? All I could do was nod. “Of course, Mr. Abrams.”
He took off his suit jacket and rolled up hi
s shirt sleeves before sitting down in a new chair directly next to me. It was larger than the other two conversation chairs and clearly meant for the king of the room. It fit Pierce perfectly.
“Thanks for meeting with me this afternoon. Let’s start with formalities and get them out of the way. First of all, call me Pierce. Mr. Abrams is my father. I don’t like being Mr. Abrams in the office unless it’s to crush my competition,” he said, grinning.
“I talked to a few of you yesterday, but I’d like to go around and get the elevator speech about who you are, how long you’ve been here, what you’re working on—that sort of stuff.”
“Is this going to be replacing our weekly romance editors staff meeting?” Shay asked.
“We’ll talk more about that later,” Pierce promised. “For now, I just need a quick handle on workload, experience, priorities, projections. That kind of thing. Why don’t you start?”
Shay swallowed, looking more nervous than I’d seen her in a while. “Well, the clean romance line is going strong. I’ve had a lot of submissions from literary agencies that are scrambling to rehome several of their authors after RMG closed its doors.”
“RMG?” he asked.
“Revelations Media Group. I handle clean romance, inspirational fiction, and religious fiction.”
“I see. And RMG focuses on one religion specifically, correct?”
“Yes, the Christian reader base.”
“And how many authors are you looking to take on?”
“I haven’t done a full analysis yet, sir,” she said.
How could I want to slap her so badly when she was sitting there talking about Christian romance? I was surely going to hell. But hearing the word “sir” come from her lips while talking to Pierce? Next-level jealousy flooded over me. If anyone was going to be calling him that, it was me.
“I want a proposal by end of day on what percentage of your work is religious versus clean romance versus inspirational fiction. I also want brief bios of the authors in each segment and how many new authors you have capacity to take on with RMG closing.”
