by Qwillia Rain
In a soft whisper, she asked, “Lyssa?”
Knowing she was concerned about her sister, Bryce looked toward Ben. “Ben,” he called. “Where’d her sister go?”
Dayton rather than Ben answered, “If you mean that cute little blonde Miss Mattie came in with, last I saw, Mike was trying to keep her from following you two.”
“I need to find her,” Mattie announced.
“I’m sure Mike is taking care of her. He’ll make sure she gets home okay.”
“But, I—”
Mattie tried to argue, but Bryce overruled her. Steering her toward the door, he reaffirmed Dayton’s assurances to her. “She’s okay, Lawrence. Let’s get you home.”
Chapter Eleven
“You can’t hide in there forever, Mattie.”
The humor in her sister’s voice had Mattie sticking her tongue out at the mahogany-paneled door. She took one last look at her reflection before exiting the private bathroom attached to her office. Mattie loved the gown, despite the unease it made her feel. Just like all of Lyssa’s unique designs, the close-fitted silk sheath enhanced her full figure. Her plump breasts and rounded hips appeared sophisticated rather than overblown above and below her narrow waist.
The fitted bodice hugged her torso while leaving her back bare to the dimples above her bottom. A built-in shelf bra supported her breasts and clear plastic straps secured the dress in place by curving over her shoulders and fastening with hidden hooks beside her breasts.
The twelve strands of faceted amber crystal beads complemented the deep burgundy silk as much as the triple row of matching beads at her throat emphasized the ballet neckline of the gown. Bare from nape to the small of her back, only the cool brush of the crystals against her skin covered her.
“I really think this is just a bit much, Lys,” Mattie hinted as she exited the bathroom.
Keen blue eyes assessed every centimeter of the gown, carefully analyzing the way the material clung to her skin. “Hmmmm.”
Mattie watched her sister’s approach. Leaning forward, she whispered, “I mean, really, Lys. I can’t even wear panties.”
“Not supposed to,” Lyssa muttered absently as she smoothed a fold before dropping to her knees to examine the slit in the skirt that allowed for smooth strides rather than hobbling her movements. Moving on to the hem, Mattie watched her sister’s blonde head bend to assure herself that none of the tiny stitches were in danger of becoming snagged in a shoe heel.
“Lyssa,” Mattie groaned as her sister rose and gave a last smoothing pat to the fabric.
Eyes filled with resolve, Lyssa met Mattie’s gaze. “Listen, tonight’s the last night, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve made it through seven days.” Lyssa adjusted one of the dark curls framing Mattie’s face. “Do you think you can handle the demands he’ll make?”
Remembering the events of the past week and the punishments she’d been subjected to, not to mention the arousal, Mattie nodded. “I believe so.”
“So once you’re married, if he asks…”
Mattie nodded slowly, unsure of the look in her sister’s eyes. “I’ll say yes.”
“So you might as well have a killer dress to make sure he’s paying attention.” Lyssa waggled her eyebrows.
Mattie couldn’t help but laugh. “Lys, he’s definitely paying attention.” Her smile faded, though, when her sister’s eyes moved to the necklace she’d chosen to wear. Matching dangling earrings glittered with the faceted crystals. After what they’d learned at the Diablo Blanco the night before, Mattie was more than conscious of the bare expanse of skin around her throat.
“Do you think he’ll give you a collar as well as an engagement ring?” Lyssa voiced the question Mattie had been pondering all day.
She shrugged. “I don’t think so, since I haven’t told him my decision yet.”
“Do you want him to?”
Again Mattie shrugged, but she avoided listening to the small voice inside that whispered, “yes.” Wanting to avoid any further mention of collars, Mattie asked her own question, “You aren’t staying for the party?” Her sister’s jeans and sweatshirt seemed out of place in the office. “I gave you the invitation.”
Lyssa shook her head as she gathered up the few items she’d brought on the off chance that the dress needed slight alterations. “No, I can’t stay. I have some designs to finish.”
“Lys.” Mattie watched her sister’s fingers pleat the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “You never told me what happened last night.”
The heat creeping into Lyssa’s cheeks had Mattie fighting a smile. Perhaps the kiss had gotten out of hand. She hid her disappointment when her sister shrugged.
“Nothing happened, Mat. After Bryce dragged you upstairs, I…hung around for a while, then M-Mike gave me a ride home.”
“I saw him kiss you,” Mattie teased.
Lyssa rolled her eyes at her. “Oh, for God’s sake, he’s a kid!”
Mattie laughed. “He’s my age, Lys.”
“Exactly. He’s six years younger than me and spends all day ogling naked women.”
“I do not ogle naked women.” The curt response had Mattie turning to find Mike lounging in her doorway, his black tuxedo looking startlingly sexy against his dark hair and tanned skin. But the heat in his brown eyes as he watched Lyssa had Mattie wondering if her sister was keeping something from her.
She didn’t have time to contemplate the idea before Bryce strode through the door, his gaze on his watch. “Lawrence, we’re going to be late. Are you…?” His words trailed off as his gaze skimmed her gown, paused on the jewelry at her throat, before halting on her face. “Definitely ready,” he murmured.
Ignoring his brother and Lyssa, Bryce slowly circled Mattie, his eyes like a caress sliding over her skin, settling at the sensitive dip above her bottom before rising to take in the elegant knot confining most of her hair and the dangling curls framing her face. Turning to Lyssa, Bryce grinned and surprised everyone in the room with a courtly kiss against the back of Lyssa’s hand. “My compliments, Miss Lawrence, on an incomparable dress.”
Setting his hand at her waist, Bryce urged her toward the door. “Now, Lawrence, we need to get moving. Mr. King is due any moment, and I want to make sure we are downstairs waiting for him when he arrives.”
Glancing back at her sister, she worried at the expression on Lyssa’s face as Mike stepped in front of her, blocking her exit from the room. When she tried to get Bryce to stop, he ignored her protest and ushered her into the elevator.
* * *
“So, are you in?”
The mingled noise of party chatter, soft music, and laughter from a nearby couple would have made it impossible to hear if Bryce hadn’t been standing just behind the group of five men, his presence hidden by the broad leaves of a potted plant. He recognized the voice of Davis Daniels from his company’s marketing department. The other four were also familiar. Victor had his back to him, but he recognized the man’s cocky stance and dark hair. After the episode in Lawrence’s office, he’d checked into the rumors circulating about the brash attorney. He wasn’t liking what he was hearing, and the stories being told by some of the members of the Diablo Blanco Club were merely reinforcing the objections he’d heard Lawrence voice numerous times.
“In on what?” The query came from Richard Bennett, the only man topping Victor’s six feet. He stood at an angle to the rest, his shrewd gray eyes watching the men and then looking back at the milling party guests.
“Victor has a pool going.” Charles Winthrop was quick to explain, his brown eyes and boyish looks well-developed weapons when he was sent to negotiate mergers. The look within those eyes reminded Bryce of something feral, almost vicious, sighting its prey.
“A pool for what?” Roger Vincent from the accounting department was the last of the five men. He hovered at the edge of the group, looking as if he regretted having stopped and ready for any excuse to escape the small cluster of men.
> “How long it’s going to take him to bang ‘Ice Queen’ Lawrence.” Davis chuckled nastily.
Victor’s expression must have been one of cool confidence, even smugness at Davis’s revelation, because Richard’s attention was immediately focused on the younger man. The very stillness of his body warned Bryce his friend was battling the same need he had to take Victor aside to enlighten him as to whom Lawrence belonged.
“Mr. Halsey’s Lawrence?” Roger stammered, his body edging farther away from the group.
Richard’s face would have been impossible to read if Bryce hadn’t known the man for nearly thirty years. Anger and disgust narrowed his gray eyes and thinned his full bottom lip. He remained quiet, letting the other men dig their graves.
“Yeah.” Charles snorted. “He thinks he’s got it made.”
Roger shook his head. “I don’t think so. Mr. Halsey thinks very highly of Miss Lawrence.”
In Bryce’s mind, that response earned Roger job security for as long as he ran the company.
Richard nodded in agreement. “I would be very careful…” he warned.
Victor interrupted, arrogance oozing from his every word. “I’ve noticed distractions in the boss’s office. That magazine article has had so many board members in a tizzy, Halsey has been working overtime to smooth the ruffled feathers.”
Based on the way Richard stiffened even more, Victor must have given some kind of look or signal to remind his friend about the meeting in his father’s office and the request for his resignation. Bryce wondered just how the attorney could believe he’d actually sit back and let Frieda and Lionel Makepeace and their lackeys drive him out of the business he’d been born to run. Everything was going according to plan, and once Lawrence slipped his ring on this evening, the board wouldn’t have any other objections. He didn’t see how Victor could have gotten the mistaken notion he would allow another man to walk away with his woman. Perhaps the warning he’d given the little snot outside Lawrence’s office earlier in the week hadn’t been forceful enough.
The group of men turned their attention to someone across the room as Victor continued burying his career. “All you have to do is look at her.” He gestured to the woman smiling and chatting with the guest of honor.
“Before tonight I would have thought she wasn’t much to look at.” Charles snorted, sipping his scotch and soda.
“You haven’t ‘bumped’ into her in the elevator, have you?”
Bumped? Bryce imagined the excuses Victor had come up with to bump into Lawrence. He wondered, his gaze drifting back to her, if she’d failed to mention any further incidents to him. Knowing how vocal she was in her dislike for the attorney, he had to guess she hadn’t. Shifting his position, but remaining hidden, Bryce was able to see Victor’s profile, and the expression on his face had Bryce setting aside his glass before he ended up crushing it.
“Nice, tight ass, tits that just beg to be squeezed. Her hips could be a little smaller, but they’re something to hold on to when push comes to shove.” Victor laughed, his black brows rising knowingly over his eyes as if making sure his audience got the right message.
“You should watch what you say,” Roger warned.
“Nothing that hasn’t already been mentioned.” Victor brushed aside the warning. “Give me two weeks, three at the most, and little Miss ‘Ice Queen’ will be begging for some of this.” His hand dropped to cup his cock.
Bryce let his anger simmer. It would be useless to rip Victor’s throat out in the middle of the party. Too many employees would be speculating over the reason why. He’d spent the last eight years watching, preparing, arranging to bring Mattie under his control, and the juvenile bragging of a wannabe lothario was insufficient reason to endanger his plan at this late date. Hell, he already held her in the palm of his hand. She’d already agreed to marry him, and once they exchanged the vows, he didn’t doubt her introduction to his lifestyle would begin in earnest.
“This sort of speculation borders on sexual harassment, don’t you think, Victor?” Richard queried, sipping his drink.
Bryce noticed Richard’s attention straying to him as he eased away from the wall. The briefest of signals passed between himself and his friend before Richard returned his attention to Victor’s response.
“…broads to overhear and it’s just us men, Bennett. Come on. You can’t tell me you haven’t once thought about having Mattilda go down on you? Or tossed the idea around with the boss? I mean, the two of you have known each other for so long.”
Before Richard could reply, Charles again demanded of the other men, “So are you in?”
Roger Vincent shook his head. “I don’t think it’s an appropriate thing to participate in.” He walked away, taking a hefty swallow of his beverage, before any of the other men could respond.
Davis Daniels pulled his wallet from his inside jacket pocket and fished out a twenty. “I give her two weeks from Thursday.” He handed his money to Charles with a nasty chuckle.
Winthrop tucked the bill with the small stack he’d collected from other men and jotted down the date on the slip of paper before turning his attention to Richard. From his own wallet, Richard slid out a twenty, passed it to Winthrop, and predicted, “Not a chance in hell he’ll get to first base with Mattie, let alone into bed.”
Bryce’s grin deepened at the flush of anger sliding across Victor’s face as Winthrop took the money.
“By the way”—Richard nodded toward the small collection of money—“just how many men have ‘contributed’ to the pool?”
“About ten,” Winthrop replied, making notes on the slip of paper. “Stanson and Little from accounting; Renner, Dawson, and Stillman in mergers; you, Daniels, Prommer, me, and Tenley in advertising.”
Victor watched Richard for a moment. “Just some of the guys, you know,” he offered with a shrug as if suggesting the pool was as harmless as the ones that occasionally cropped up during the football, basketball, and baseball seasons.
Richard nodded, lifting his scotch to his lips as he moved away from the three men.
Bryce made a mental note to discuss the employment histories of the men who’d contributed to the “bet” with Richard as he turned away from the group as well.
* * *
“You really must see Sydney, Miss Lawrence.” The smile and sexy Australian accent would have probably swayed her if it weren’t for the fact that she was in love with Bryce, Mattie thought.
“It’s on my list of places to see, Mr. King,” she assured him with a matching smile.
“Ian,” he corrected her. “I’ll probably be ringing you up daily with one question or another.”
The feel of a hand sliding beneath the draping of beads to caress her back alerted Mattie before Bryce’s voice reached her ears. “And she’ll be directing your calls to me, Ian, so don’t try to charm her away.”
Mattie looked over her shoulder at her employer as he moved up behind her. “Mr. King was just giving me some tips on the sights to see in Sydney.”
“Ian,” the other man urged again, his smile widening.
Bryce’s smile was just as knowing. “I know exactly what Ian was trying to do, and I’m not letting him seduce you away from Halsey’s.” Nodding toward a petite brunette having words with Richard across the room, he suggested, “See if you can get Becka to quit talking numbers with Richard, Ian. I need to have a word with Lawrence.”
“Why do you insist on calling her that, Bryce?” Ian shook his head, seeming to accept the brush off with equanimity and wandered toward the corner where Richard and Becka stood.
“I don’t know where you got the crazy notion…” Mattie began.
“Because the man has been charming women out of their clothes since he was in his teens.” Bryce took the champagne flute from her hand and finished the golden liquid inside. “Ginger ale?” Setting the empty glass aside, he kept his hand at her waist, his thumb stroking along her spine in soft, slow movements.
“You know I don’t li
ke to drink.” Trying to think what glitch in the party could have brought the annoyed look to Bryce’s face, she asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Not particularly, but I would like to speak with you a moment.” Bryce looked around the room before nodding toward the open garden doors. The ground-floor ballroom led into an enclosed arboretum situated in the center of the high-rise tower.
Once away from the party and the jumbled noises, Mattie breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of the roses and the subtle hint of night-blooming jasmine just opening its petals since the bright overhead lighting had been extinguished. The fluorescent shine had been replaced with the softer glow from fiber-optic tube lights lining the pathways winding through the trees and shrubs.
His hand on her lower back guided her as they moved along the path, easing deeper into the greenery.
“Have I mentioned that you look beautiful this evening?” Bryce asked as he turned into a secluded area.
Mattie’s heart fluttered. “No.”
Bryce stopped just short of a cushioned bench and turned Mattie to face him, his hand riding the curve of her spine, where the dress dipped lowest. “Well, you do. Look beautiful. In fact, if it weren’t for the hundred or so guests mingling in the banquet room, I’d spread you out on a table and spend an hour or so eating you for dessert.”
Her heart hammered in her chest at the heat his palm exuded. “Lyssa is starting a line of evening and formal wear.” Remembering his compliment to her sister earlier, she said, “Thank you for letting her know you liked the dress.”
Bryce smiled and moved around to examine the gown, his hand skimming the warm flesh exposed by the backless design. The beads of crystal tinkled and clicked together as he dragged his finger along her spine from waist to nape, then back again. “Very…elegant,” he murmured as he moved to stand in front of her, both hands now settled at the base of her spine beneath the draping beads. “Very sexy.” His hands tugged Mattie a step closer. “In fact, it’s just perfect for what I have planned this evening.”
