“Okay,” she whispered, supressing the urge to scream in protest.
What Ryland wanted, Ryland got, after all. No amount of arguing or pleading would change his stubborn mind.
What the hell did I just get myself into? She thought mournfully.
Chapter Four
He sucked air through his teeth and glanced at his Piaget watch for the third time.
It was six twenty-five.
Is she going to piss me off first thing on a Monday morning? He wondered. Diren did not abide tardiness and the people who knew him best did well to live by his strict timing policy.
I don’t have time for this horseshit this morning.
A small part of him realized that she still had five minutes to go, but as the next two minutes passed, he grew even angrier, as if she was already late.
A knock on the door drew his head up.
“Come in,” he snapped. As the frosted glass swung inward, he was already speaking.
“You should know I don’t take kindly to waiting - ” he stopped in midsentence as a gorgeous tanned brunette stood peering at him from the doorway with apologetic blue eyes.
“You’re not Sloane,” he heard himself say accusingly in surprise.
She shook her long layers, a stray strand falling over her eye.
“No, Mr. Benning. I’m Ayla Dumas, your new assistant,” she told him, stepping forward tentatively.
There was a demureness about her which Diren found intriguing – and uncommon.
Is it demureness or is she hiding something?
It was not an unusual question to enter his mind. Diren’s gut reactions to people were rarely off and had served him well in business. And he always started out with distrust.
You don’t become a billionaire by ignoring your intuition, he often thought.
“What are you doing here so early?” he demanded. “Catrina won’t be in the office until eight.”
“I know, sir, but I wanted to get my bearings before she arrived,” Ayla explained quickly. “I – I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I just wanted to let you know I was here if you needed anything.” Ayla had a hard time forming coherent sentences. Sure, she had seen him from a distance, but…wow. The man was fucking gorgeous.
He eyed her with stoic, slate irises, his gaze trailing down her red silk blouse toward the fitted charcoal pants that hugged her curves perfectly, then slowly back up to her high cheekbones and slightly tilted eyes.
Great tits, perfect face. I’m sure she and I will have many…interesting times together, he thought. I just hope she’s not as dimwitted as some of the others have been.
She waited, unspeaking despite the seemingly long silence which seemed to ensue between them.
“I loathe the color red on women,” he told her flatly. “It’s whorish. Don’t wear it again in the office.”
He relished the look of surprise which crossed over her face and for a fleeting second, he noted her jawline twitch in defiance. Ah, there it is, she thought to herself. The beauty offset by the complete asshat-like personality.
“Of course, Mr. Benning,” she replied, determined to hold her tongue. She turned to leave, lest she snort right in his gorgeous face.
Before she could move, Sloane barrelled past her in a swirl of Christian Dior perfume and Versace couture.
“You’re late,” Diren snarled at the bleached blonde.
She laughed haughtily, turning to address Ayla, who stood uncertainly at the threshold.
“Ah,” Sloane cooed. “Is this your latest trollop? Go along, tart, and fetch me a cappuccino.”
She waved her hand dismissively and turned back to Diren.
Through his peripheral vision, he saw the girl’s mouth become a fine line.
“I’m sorry,” she replied evenly. “I have not started in my official capacity. I am afraid I will not be able to do that for you – legally speaking, you understand. I think the espresso bar is that way though.”
Ayla gestured into the outer office, but didn’t wait for Sloane to reply before turning and walking away, her back straight and her chin raised, leaving Diren’s ex-wife to gape after her in shock.
“Did that little bitch just tell me to get it myself?” she squealed and Diren swallowed a smile.
If it had been any other visitor, Diren would have fired Ayla on the spot but there was something truly sweet about watching Sloane’s face twist into a mask of fury as she tried to process the word “no”.
Maybe that girl isn’t as innocent as she looks, he thought. He would deal with his new assistant later.
“We have to talk about my alimony,” Sloane announced, flopping onto the settee as if she had already forgotten being slighted. “And I need a coffee. Diren, go get me a coffee!”
He snorted and sat behind his desk, turning to his computer screen.
“Sloane, you are not getting one more penny out of me for alimony,” he told her flatly. “These monthly visits are becoming tiresome. And next time you gun for one of these pointless meetings, stop at Starbucks beforehand like the rest of New York.”
They had been divorced for more than a decade but that didn’t stop his ex from crying persecution at every chance and to anyone who would listen.
As his multi-billion-dollar empire grew, so did Sloane’s greed and she had tried several ways to extort more money from him.
At first, Diren had found her attempts amusing.
After all, she was grasping at straws. Their decree was ironclad, his attorney the best that New York had to offer.
Yet Sloane seemed fixated on finding loopholes she had seen online or probing into some hint of a scandal, looking for ways to cash in on her desire to live the high life again.
Sorry, baby, that ship sailed as soon as I realized who you were – and what you were capable of.
Diren supposed he should at least be grateful that his ex had stopped trying to make passes at him in hopes of reconciliation.
At first it had been amusing to use and ignore her, knowing that he was beating her at her own game, but the novelty had quickly worn off.
Sex had never been one of Sloane’s strong suits after all. She was a princess in all things – sex included.
“Are you listening to me?” Sloane whined. “You’re not even looking at me!”
“Sloane, I haven’t listened to you in years. Why would I start now?” Diren asked pleasantly. “And as always, the answer is no. So you can leave, go to Starbucks and check this appointment off your list of things to do this morning.”
“That’s another thing,” Sloane moaned. “Why do you always make me come here so early?”
“It’s the only time I have free,” Diren lied. “And you’re the one who insists on continuing with this idiocy.”
“You really didn’t hear what I said, did you?” she asked again, sitting up from her sprawled position on the settee. “I know you were hiding assets when we were married.”
Diren almost groaned aloud.
It was the same tired argument he had heard a hundred times from her mouth. It didn’t matter that it was true. The fact was, Sloane would never be able to prove it.
But there was something in her eyes that morning, a slightly malicious glint which made him look away from his desktop and study her fleshy face carefully.
Age had not been kind to her and as he stared at her, he tried to remember a time when he had seen her as a beauty.
That was a different time, he told himself, forcing the thought from his mind. I was more optimistic back then.
Again, he felt like he was thinking about another person when he thought of himself married to Sloane.
“I know you have offshore accounts, Diren,” she told him smoothly, a grin lighting her worn face. “In the Cayman Islands.”
“Sloane, you are truly beginning to annoy me,” he told her honestly. “And you need new material. You should be bothering your ridiculously overpriced and overrated divorce attorney with these theories, not me. Or has she final
ly banned you from her office?” he asked innocently.
Sloane’s smile only widened.
“No, darling,” she replied sweetly, rising to saunter toward the Parnian desk slowly. “It was my lawyer who told me to come here and try to talk some sense into you before taking you back to court. It seems she has a source who can confirm the existence of these offshore accounts that were there well before we divorced. That would make half of those holdings mine.”
Diren’s mind began to whirl as he wondered who could have betrayed such a confidence.
Dammit! Was it Delia? Was she trying to get payback after being let go last week?
He peered at her coldly, sitting back in his chair.
“You do what you must, sweetheart,” he told her condescendingly. “I should remind you how well all your previous court appearances have gone to date. Or have you forgotten in your Vicodin induced haze?”
Sloane lost the smug expression on her face and he exhaled.
She’s bluffing. She doesn’t know anything about anything. Unsurprisingly.
“Now get out. You were late, and I have another appointment coming in.”
Sloane glared at him, her green eyes flashing with malice.
“This is happening, Diren, whether or not you like it,” she assured him. “I will have the proof I need.”
“Okay,” he said with mocking agreeability. “Now get out.”
She spun around to storm from the office and as the door flung inward, Diren saw Ayla sitting at Catrina’s desk, reading through the appointment book.
As the inner door closed, he touched the intercom.
“Come in here, Lila,” he barked.
The door reopened a second later and she stood placidly in the doorway.
“Yes, Mr. Benning?”
He gestured with long, manicured fingers for her to enter.
“Where did you come from?” he demanded.
“First floor. Reception,” she answered. She did not offer any extra information. He cocked his head to the side and peered at her.
“So, you are aware that it is your job to have customer service skills,” he snapped after a long moment.
“Of course, Mr. Benning,” she replied serenely, studying his face. Before Diren could continue his lecture, ready to berate her for the way she had spoken to Sloane, the girl continued.
“But I will not be treated like a service dog by anyone, least of all your ex-wife,” she said firmly.
Diren’s spine stiffened.
“You knew who that was?” he growled. “How?”
Ayla laughed shortly.
“Mr. Benning, I’ve worked for Benning Media for almost five years. I do know the comings and goings of the company, sir.”
His mouth formed into a thin line.
She’s defiant – and now why the fuck would that make my cock hard…
There was something about her which both drew and repelled him simultaneously, like an exotic pepper which he knew was too spicy for consumption, yet he wanted to taste just a bit…knowing he would probably regret it later.
“When you are under my direct employ, you are to answer directly to me,” he told her sternly. “If you don’t like my orders, you can find yourself a new position – outside of Benning Media. Is that understood?”
She nodded curtly. It was getting easier to pull her traitorously horny body under control the more he spoke.
“Understood, sir. And please note that if you had asked me to fetch Ms. Benning’s cappuccino, I would have obliged,” she replied evenly.
They stared at each other for a long while, Diren’s mind turning the exchange over as he tried to make sense of the woman standing before him.
She seems smart and willing to take direction…but she’s not a pushover.
Diren was trying to reconcile such a personality with the small and intriguing package that it came in.
We’ll see how long she lasts, he decided but even as he thought it, he noticed that she had undone one of the buttons on her crimson blouse while she was outside his office, exposing the tops of her luscious breasts.
Well, maybe she has the capacity to be accommodating, he thought smugly. If this is her way of letting me know she wants the same thing I do, we’ll get along fine. At least for a while.
“I have a job for you,” he told her, prying his eyes away from the temptation of her breasts. “But you need to go undercover. Can you handle that?”
She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“Sir?”
“I need you to befriend someone and get her to tell you what she may have learned while working for me as my executive assistant. Some possibly confidential and sensitive information.”
A look of nervous understanding crossed over Ayla’s face.
“For what purpose?” she asked slowly.
“If she discloses anything, she will be in violation of her nondisclosure agreement and I may have to pursue legal action.”
“I see.”
He peered at her face, trying to determine if there was judgement in it, but she seemed to be cloaked in stoicism.
Still, he voiced his question to be certain.
“Is that something you will have a problem doing?”
Ayla shook her head.
“Her name is Delia Craver. I will get her address and phone number for you. Do not tell her you work for me.”
Again, Ayla nodded her head.
“Yes, Mr. Benning,” she murmured, waiting as he searched his computer for the information.
“And Lila,” he continued. “As long as you are my personal assistant, you may call me Diren in private circumstances.”
“Yes sir,” she replied. “But only if you call me Ayla.”
He looked up, taken aback by her saucy audacity. He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Ayla?” he repeated, and she nodded, shrugging nonchalantly.
“That’s a…beautiful name,” he relented.
They gazed at each other again and Diren was aware of the magnetism between them. Something about her lit him up somehow. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had the overwhelming urge to bite on her lower lip, and bury his cock deep inside her, hearing her cry out in painful pleasure. His cock jerked hard at the thought. What the hell? Get a grip, Benning, he warned himself.
But he had been enticed by dozens of women in his life and it was no secret that they were equally drawn to him.
What was odd was that he found himself looking away first under the guise of continuing his search. She had out-stared him somehow.
There’s something different about this one, he warned himself.
The realization filled him with exhilaration. And dread.
Chapter Five
Ayla sat at the bar where Delia worked part time, crossing and uncrossing her legs nervously. She couldn’t get the incident with Diren out of her mind. How was it that her body was still primed for him? Even after she had seen what a dominating ass he could be? Didn’t her body realize he was a complete jerk? And yet, when she had left his office, her nipples had been hard as rocks and she had kept picturing him removing her offensive red blouse – roughly. Her legs clenched together tightly at the thought. God, I’m pathetic! Get your mind in the game, Ayla!
She was lucky that Delia had obviously picked up a daytime shift since getting let go from Benning last week. Otherwise, Ayla didn’t know how she would “accidentally meet” the beautiful redhead.
You’re going to give yourself away if you keep that up, she warned herself, but she couldn’t seem to supress her mounting nervousness as she eyed the girl serving behind the long, wide counter.
Suddenly, their eyes met, and Ayla felt a hot blush stain her cheeks as the bartender sashayed toward her, narrowing her cat-shaped eyes suspiciously. Her red hair swirled around her alluringly as she approached.
“I know you,” she hissed. “You work at Benning.”
God dammit! Ayla cursed silently. I’m off to a fantastic start.
<
br /> Thinking quickly, she forced a smile and shook her head.
“Not anymore,” she replied ruefully. “I just got sacked. Hence the pre-noon drinks.”
She gestured at the vodka before her.
Ayla cocked her head playfully to the side, her chestnut waves touching her shoulder.
“How did you know I worked there?” she asked, her voice laced in skepticism. “Don’t tell me you work there too. Or are you just one of the clients? I don’t recognize you.”
Delia snorted contemptuously.
“You wouldn’t. I just got fired too,” she growled, grabbing a rag to wipe over the counter hastily. “Pure bullshit if you ask me. I worked my ass off for Diren Benning. What did they can you for?”
Ayla faked an angry sigh.
“They claimed I was stealing money from petty cash, but there’s no proof,” she replied, rolling her eyes and taking a long swig of her vodka soda. “I mean anyone could have had their hands in that pot.”
Delia made a commiserating noise.
“I don’t even know why I got fired,” she grumbled, slapping the rag down into the bar sink with a loud thud. “I think it’s because I was banging Benning and he got sick of me. Or maybe they’re just doing spring cleaning in the office. They need fresh meat.”
Ayla almost choked on her drink, her eyes widening in shock.
“What?” she gasped, wiping her mouth as the drink dribbled down her chin. “You were banging Benning? You’re kidding!”
Delia shook her head.
“Nope. I was his executive assistant for a year and we screwed from the second day I got the job to the very last day. That’s why he fired me, I’m sure of it!”
She studied Ayla for a moment, her eyes narrowing.
“Why is that so surprising? I’m not hot enough to bang the big boss?”
Ayla laughed nervously.
“Of course you are,” she replied truthfully. “I’m just surprised to hear it.”
“Why?” Delia demanded, still not understanding Ayla’s shock.
“It’s just not right. Are you sure that’s why he fired you? I mean a CEO with his money and reputation better have something to back up a termination for a long-term employee.”
BLACKMAIL_A billionaire blackmail romance Page 4
