“Maybe, anyway, what are you doing for the rest of the day?” I asked.
“Chilling, want to chill with me?”
“I’ve got plans, sorry.”
I wanted to ask how Jerry had met him, but I wouldn’t allow my curiosity to build. I wanted to get home, put on some sloppy clothes, and watch shit TV, on my own.
“How much of the business does Mackenzie own?” I asked.
“Sixty percent, that wasn’t the original deal. I hate to lose control, but it was that or nothing, and you know what? I kind of like the idea of letting go of the reins a little. It’s hard doing it all alone.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a stab at me or not. Right from the beginning, Jerry had wanted me to stand alongside him. He’d even offered to give me shares, because I’d been with him from day one, but I knew nothing about business. I didn’t want to get bogged down with the admin of it all. I liked being creative, I liked coming up with ideas to promote the company. I liked working in it and not on it.
“It’s been, what, ten years? You deserve to sit back a little,” I said.
Ten years we’d worked together, both straight out of education. Although we had attended the same college, we hadn’t known each other then. We’d met in a bar, he’d spilled his drink on me, we got chatting, and the rest, as they say, is history.
“Yeah, but I’m only thirty, not retirement age yet,” he said, with a laugh.
“Is there something else you want to do? Maybe play a little golf?”
“Golf! Yeah, can you just see those stuck-up fuckers allowing me on a golf course? I’d walk around with a cigarette in my mouth, swearing.”
“Mmm, maybe not.”
“Another ten years, and then I’ll sell out completely, travel a bit.”
“When was the last time you had a holiday?”
He had to think. “Fucking years ago.”
“Take a holiday then.”
“I might. These skinny legs haven’t seen the sun for a long time. I can just see me and Mum sitting on a beach in the Caribbean.” He gave me a wink.
It occurred to me then, like me, Jerry didn’t seem to have many friends. He’d forgone life in the pursuit of a successful business. I only hoped the payout had been worth that.
“I’ll see you Monday then, and thanks for the ride,” I said as I climbed from the car.
I put on a load of washing, grabbed a meal from the freezer to defrost, and changed into jeans and a jumper. The apartment was chilly, so I wrapped a blanket around me and curled up on the sofa. As predicted, there was nothing worth watching on the TV, so I scanned through Netflix to find a movie.
****
It was with trepidation that I entered the office on Monday morning. Maybe I was overthinking the sly glances thrown my way, or imagining the whispers behind hands. For the first time ever, I felt very uncomfortable.
My stomach turned every time I heard the lift ping, alerting me that someone had arrived on my floor. I wasn’t sure whether Mackenzie would even visit that day. I hid myself away in my office, only leaving to grab a cup of coffee, and only when I thought the coast was clear. Jenny had offered to do a lunch run for me, which I’d declined. My stomach was too knotted to eat.
I hated the tension, I hated that I allowed that tension to grow as each hour passed. It was only when I noticed the clock on wall showing five that I began to relax. Jenny popped her head around the door to wish me a goodnight, and as each person started to leave, the automatic lighting dimmed.
I preferred to work late. If I could bring myself to do it, I’d start later in the morning and work into the night. It was peaceful and an escape from a lonely apartment. I sighed as I recalled Jerry’s words. Maybe I needed to get a hobby, or a life, something that took me out of the office and focussed my brain on fun.
I closed down my laptop and packed it away in my briefcase. As I did, I chuckled bitterly. I even took my work home.
I stood by the lift, not watching the direction of its travel. When the doors slid open, I entered and pressed for ground. A tear formed in my eye and when I blinked, it slid down my cheek, followed by another. I didn’t bother to wipe it away, nor did I notice the lift start to travel up one floor.
The doors slid open, and as I had my head bowed, all I saw was a pair of black brogues. I looked up, straight to the face of Mackenzie.
“Lauren, are you okay?” he asked, concern laced his voice.
“Of course, why shouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re crying.”
I raised my hand and brushed the tears away.
“Is there any point in saying I have something in my eye?”
He stepped into the lift, too close to me for comfort. The doors closed, but neither of us pressed for ground.
Before my brain could register, he raised a hand and used his thumb to wipe under my eye.
“You have smudged mascara,” he said, gently.
“Thank you, ground?” I asked.
“Why are you crying?” he asked.
“Maybe because I’m sad today?” I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice; he was my boss after all.
“Why are you sad?”
It was always questions with him. He rarely volunteered any information, just asked a lot.
“My husband left me, I’ve been humiliated by him. My colleagues are whispering about me and avoiding me like I have some contagious disease. I should resign but I can’t bring myself to. I’m tired. Take your pick.”
“Then I’ll have to do something to cheer you up, won’t I?”
We had arrived on the ground floor and he took hold of my wrist. I was thankful it was the hand holding my briefcase, so he couldn’t take hold of that. He pulled me along as he walked to the entrance. Fred stood, but we ignored him as we passed.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Wait and see.”
He hailed a taxi and refused to speak anymore until one arrived. He gave the driver an address before opening the door and ushering me in.
“Where are we going? I have to go home. I want to go home,” I said.
“Later.”
“Not later, now.”
He turned on his seat to face me. Once again, I saw that steely gaze and a look of determination on his face.
“So tell the driver to take you home,” he said, challenging me.
I didn’t want to go home, I didn’t want to go with him either. I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted to do.
I didn’t reply, and with a smug look, he settled back in his seat. We continued the journey in silence.
It wasn’t long before we pulled up outside a set of iron gates. Behind them was a stunning modern house, in front of Hampstead Heath. Mackenzie paid the driver, and taking hold of my wrist again, he opened his door and pulled me gently along the seat to join him. I watched as he entered a code into a keypad beside the gate and set in a brick column. The gates swung open and he strode up the drive. I was power walking to keep up with him.
He took a set of keys from his pocket and opened the front door to his home.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I said.
“Why?”
“Quit with the questions,” I said.
“Okay. Yes, you should be here because I brought you; you had little choice, since I didn’t tell you where we were going; I’ve only brought you here to feed you ice cream, in the hope it will cheer you up.” He took a breath after his rather long sentence.
“Ice cream?”
“Ice cream.”
The man totally fucking baffled me. On one hand, we had the powerful, intensely staring, devilishly handsome, fucking amazing in bed Mackenzie. Then on the other, we had the grinning idiot, still devilishly handsome, still amazing in bed, wanting to feed me ice cream Mackenzie!
“Ice cream,” I said, shaking my head.
He took the briefcase from my hand and placed it on a consul table in the vast hall. I had no choice but to follow him through to an even vaster kit
chen. He gestured to a stool tucked under a breakfast bar.
I watched him shrug off his suit jacket and roll up his shirtsleeves. My mouth watered at the sight of his forearms. One was tattooed; both were muscular. I don’t know what it was about his forearms, but I felt a pang of want right at my core.
“We have…” he started to say, as he opened a large stainless steel freezer.
“Chocolate chip, white chocolate, salted caramel, pecan, gin and tonic…” he frowned at that one. “Strawberry and…” He looked over to me with a smirk. “Very vanilla.”
He stared at me, expectantly. “So?”
“Salted caramel,” I said.
“I like that you like salted,” he said. I ignored him.
He pulled two tubs from the freezer and placed them on the bar in front of me. He then walked to a drawer and retrieved two spoons.
“I’m surprised you know your way around a kitchen,” I said.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Again, another question.
“Don’t you have help?”
“Help? No. I like to cook, I spend most of my time in this room, and I like ice cream before dinner.”
“Obviously this is your house then,” I said.
“Obviously.” He opened the lids of the ice cream tubs, pushed one towards me then handed me a spoon. “Eat.”
Watching him lick ice cream from a spoon, while keeping his gaze on me, had that pang at my core resembling an explosion. No matter what he did, it was erotic, seductive. It was a game he played very well, I was sure of that.
Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he was simply a seductive individual. From what little time we’d spent together, he clearly knew what he wanted from life and took it with both hands.
“You play a good game,” I said, eating a spoonful of ice cream.
“Game?”
“The seduction game.”
He laid down his spoon and smiled. “It’s not a game, Lauren.”
“Oh, okay, let me guess, it’s who you are,” I chuckled.
“No. When I said it’s not a game, I meant, I don’t play. I’m deadly serious.”
My hand paused halfway between the ice cream tub and my mouth. I was sure my mouth might have even stayed open. He reached over and wiped his thumb under my spoon to catch the ice cream that was about to drip. I watched, unable to take my eyes away, as he placed his thumb between his lips and sucked. Yes, he was deadly serious all right.
“Why are you trying to seduce me?” I whispered.
“Because I want to, because I can.”
Was I that desperate, naïve? Scott had been my only boyfriend, lover, and husband. I was totally out of my league with Mackenzie.
“I think I should go,” I said. I laid my spoon on the bar and replaced the lid of the tub.
He stood and waited for me. I was a little disappointed that he hadn’t immediately tried to stop me. But then, I wasn’t playing games either. He frightened me. Not that he was scary, but because I was unsure of the feelings coursing through my body. My clitoris throbbed, my heart hammered in my chest, my skin felt electrified. My head was telling me to get the fuck out of there.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said.
“I can catch a cab.”
“Not from here you won’t. Not so sure the local committee would allow such a lowly carriage to tarnish the neighbourhood.”
I followed him to the front door, where he grabbed his keys and a small black gadget. He handed me my briefcase and locked the front door behind us. Instead of walking straight to the gates, we headed around the side of the building to a garage. He pressed a button on the black gadget and the garage door started to rise.
“Black or red?” he asked.
“Red, why?”
When the garage door had opened sufficiently, I saw two cars: one black and one red. Two identical sports cars, the make of which was beyond my knowledge of vehicles, stood side by side. I heard a beep, saw indicators flash a couple of times, and heard car doors unlock.
He gestured with his hand that I should walk to the passenger door; it was the only one on that side of the car. He opened it. How I managed to lower myself as much as I needed to slide into the seat, without my skirt rising to my waist, was beyond me.
I waited until he was settled into the driver’s seat. “What car is this?” I asked.
“Aston Martin, DB9,” he said. “Very British.”
“Very James Bond,” I replied.
“There’s that, as well, I guess. Now, address?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted him knowing where I lived. “Canary Wharf,” I said.
“Big place, Canary Wharf, I have offices there. Any particular part I should arrive at?”
Fuck, he had offices near where I lived!
“Providence Tower, I can direct you once we are closer,” I said.
“I know where Providence is.”
He started the engine and whether it was because we were in a confined space or not, the engine roared, a deep throaty roar. It reminded me of the sound he made when he’d come. I shivered when that thought came to mind.
“Cold?”
“No, I’m fine.”
The voice of his satnav startled me; I hadn’t expected it to come on since he knew the route he had to take.
“You have an American satnav,” I said, not sure why I found it amusing.
“I miss the accent.”
“How long have you been here?”
“A few years. I know Americans here, of course, so I don’t really need that to give me my fix.”
“Is there, like, an ex-pats community?”
He laughed. “No, mainly a few American business associates. We do a lot of business in your capital.”
“What do you actually do?”
“Besides unsuccessfully seducing you?” He looked over and smirked.
I wasn’t sure about the unsuccessful part. I could feel the wetness in my panties.
“I’m a venture capitalist, I guess that is the technical term. I invest in businesses, then when the time is right, I sell them and pocket the dollars.”
“Do you intend to sell us out then?”
“One day. Jerry isn’t in for the long term. And when a business is profitable, at its peak, it’s criminal to hold on to it.”
“It’s criminal to sell it and potentially put employees out of work.”
“Who said anything about putting people out of work? I find buyers that want to take the business to the next level. That in itself ensures employees are secure. Besides, I’m a businessman, Lauren, not a charity.”
“Wow.” I wasn’t sure what other answer to give. I kept my gaze firmly ahead and my mouth closed.
“You think I snuck in, persuaded Jerry to sell me his business, with the intent of making you all unemployed? He sought me out.”
I refused to engage in any further conversation with him. We drove the rest of the way in silence.
As we pulled into the underground car park of my block, I released my seat belt and reached down in the footwell for my briefcase.
“Now you’re pissed,” he said.
“No, disappointed. I’m not sure I like you very much.”
“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, I think that’s a lie.”
I turned in my seat to face him, hoping he’d see the indignation on my face.
“Your body betrays you, Lauren,” he said, with that fucking gravelly voice that had my stomach clenching again.
“Fuck my body…”
“I’d like to,” he said, interrupting me.
“I meant; I don’t care what my body tells you. My mind thinks differently.”
“Then it’s your mind I have to work harder on. Have a good evening.”
Had he just dismissed me? He had, he’d fucking dismissed me!
I climbed from the car and slammed the door behind me, wincing at the sound, and too scared to look back to see if I’d shattered a window or something.
I
stomped off, realising I was heading in completely the wrong direction but not wanting to turn around and pass him again. I kept going, rounding a corner and then waited with my back to the wall. I heard the engine roar and echo around the half-empty car park. I waited until that roar became distant and I knew he’d left. Then I walked back the way I’d come and up the stairs.
“Fucking prick,” I said to myself, as I huffed and puffed up four flights of stairs.
I should have taken the lift, or maybe, I needed to get a little fitter.
I slammed the door of my apartment once I’d entered, and then felt silly. There was no one to hear or see my tantrum. I threw my briefcase on the kitchen table. As I did, I saw a small white card poking from the side pocket. I pulled it out.
Printed in black was his name and underneath a mobile phone number. No company details, nothing. I hadn’t noticed him slip that in the pocket and wondered when he’d actually had the time to do so. I flipped it between my fingers. Part of me wanted to tear it up; part of me, the part I was trying to control, was pleased.
“Well, Mackenzie Miller, maybe two can play your game,” I said. “I need a hobby.”
Chapter Six
The rest of the week passed uneventfully. I didn’t see Mackenzie in the office at all. I’d asked Jerry when he was due back in and received raised eyebrows and a smirk. What was it with men and their smirks? According to Jerry, he was out of town, on business.
I’d been pleased when Friday came around and did something I hadn’t done for a long time. I left work on time. I arrived home, stripped off my suit, and stood under the shower. I had a date with Netflix and a takeaway. I’d just pulled on a pair of PJ’s and wrapped a towel around my head when I heard a knock on my door. I stood for a moment. No one should be able to get past the front door without the code or calling up.
It has to be security, I thought.
I opened the apartment door, and then cursed myself for not checking the spy hole. Mackenzie was standing there in jeans and a shirt, open at the neck, and with the fucking sleeves rolled to his elbows, tempting me with those forearms. He held two bottles of wine.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, red or white,” he said.
“How…?”
“Oh, forgive me.” He placed both bottles in one hand, the necks between his fingers and held out his other hand for a shake. “Mackenzie Miller,” he said.
The Facilitator Page 5
