Darren’s eyes narrowed with too much insight for Maxwell’s comfort. “Will we, old man?”
Maxwell returned his look and shrugged. “I can’t leave it alone. She’s different.”
“Don’t let your dick make the decision. She’s too innocent. One misstep and we’ll break her, and I won’t have that on my conscience.”
Maxwell looked at his friend and really thought about what he was asking. They’d been lovers once, long ago. Darren had thought to seduce him and they’d ended up friends. Together they’d dominated and broken more submissives than he could count. But Darren was wary—the usual confidence missing.
Maybe Maxwell was seeing what he wanted to see. Maybe Darren was right. Maybe Elle was the one woman he couldn’t have.
***
The lights up and down Lebanon Park glittered on the wet pavement as Elle sprinted up the steps to her apartment building. Thunder rumbled in the distance while she shook her umbrella and shouldered her way through the heavy main door.
Built in the 40’s, the building didn’t have much to recommend it —central air being unfortunately absent—but it did have an elevator, which Elle ignored. As exhausted as she usually was at 6:30 when she dragged herself home it wouldn’t stop her from taking the stairs. She had enough padding on her thighs that six flights of stairs were about as far as she was going for exercise. And everyone should exercise every day.
The sound of children’s laughter and the smell of kimchi and shrimp wafted from Mrs. Lin’s door at the base of the stairs. Her family reminded Elle of a better time. A time when her mother and father were healthy and they were a whole family. Happy.
Those days were long gone. A car accident and cancer had seen to that, and there was no sense wallowing in it. Besides, Garfield would be waiting and she couldn’t show up at her doorstep crying. Garfield would be beside himself.
She shifted her purse on her hip before trudging up the six flights of stairs. As she walked, allowing the different smells and sounds to move around her and comfort her. She’d lived in the building four years now. It was a far cry from the warm little country house they’d lived in before her mother’s death. Horses and wheat fields as far as the eye could see. What she remembered the most were the very long lazy nights, staring up at the stars, while her favorite horse nickered in the field.
She’d wished on so many falling stars that her mother started saving quarters. Every time Elle would wish on a star, her mother would put a quarter in a jar. It only ever amounted to six dollars and twenty-five cents but those twenty-five wishes were embedded in her memory. She still had the jar. Her mother had never asked about her wishes. She’d just smiled and nodded, absolutely certain that those wishes were going to come true. Elle wondered where her own confidence was.
Pushing those thoughts away, she passed Miss Sutter’s door and took the last flight of stairs. The sixth floor was quiet. The occasional sound of a dish clanking or an oven door shutting was all that broke up the silence.
With a louder than normal clomp, clomp, Elle walked past Garfield’s door and shoved her key into her own lock. Before her door had swung opened, apartment door six hundred and four opened.
“There you are!” An elderly man with fuzzy, gray hair and hunched back glared at her.
Short, with a small paunch for a gut, Garfield rented his apartment, but he might as well have owned the whole place. Nothing happened in the building that he didn’t know about. When Mrs. Sutter’s cat died, he’d collected money for a burial. When old Doc down in three hundred and five had to move to a retirement home, he’d personally visited every day until the sweet man died in his sleep a year later.
And one thing Garfield kept utmost in his mind was keeping an eye on Elle. Most evenings she welcomed the old man’s quiet presence. Tonight she didn’t have the heart to tell him how exhausted she was. Instead she met him halfway and hugged him. “How are you Garfield?”
“I was wondering when you’d get back, Elle. I got us something special tonight.”
Elle smiled at the goofy expression on his face. He was incredible. “What is it tonight Garfield? Roasted lamb? Carmel glazed squash? Oh—Oh...don’t tell me! Almond crusted truffle pork chops.”
“Alas. No, my fair lady.” From behind his back he pulled two frozen dinner trays. “I have beef a la king and chicken enchilada. I hear this is the best chef of them all.”
Elle laughed at the Slim Cuisines. He ate them for every meal always saying, “My Charlotte cooked almost every meal we ever had while she was alive. God help me, she almost killed me with her cooking. I loved her too much to tell her just how bad her food was. I swore if I ever had to live a day alone, I’d never eat home cooking again. The way I see it, I’m living up to a promise.”
Elle knew if she didn’t sit with him, he’d simply go back into his apartment, switch on the TV, and forget to eat; the frozen meals forgotten on the counter to be thrown out in the morning.
“Garfield, that looks amazing. Let me drop this stuff off and I’ll be right over.”
The door to her shabby apartment opened, and Garfield showed himself in, ignoring her order and sitting down in her father’s favorite leather chair. As she dropped her bags and slid off her new red high heels. “Whoo hoo, Elle, I knew there was something a bit different about you tonight. You look amazing. All gussied up.”
Elle shrugged and moved into the kitchen to grab two cans of pop. “The boss wants me to show these guys around at work.”
“Uh huh, from the look of that outfit, they must be important.”
“Yeah.” Elle stretched her calves and arching her back. Her neck popped and her joints loosened. “Oh, God, that feels good.” Finally able to breath, she grabbed the pop and walked into the family room to deliver Garfield a drink in her stocking feet. “I think Fred wanted me to seduce the guys.”
Most men would have been shocked. Garfield grabbed the pop and smiled a knowing smile. “Yeah, Fred would do that.”
Elle snagged the meals and handed Garfield the remote. “No Big Brother or Survivor.”
“But Elle—?”
“No. They’re taking money away from hard working thespians. Besides I can’t stand seeing those scrawny women fighting over food and each other’s boyfriend of the moment. Ugh.”
At the stove, she pulled the meals out of the boxes and set the stove for 375.
Family Feud came on from the living room. “You know they’re putting on Pirates of Penzance at the community theater. You should go.”
Elle smiled as tears formed in her eyes. She wiped them dry and cleared her throat. “Can’t, I’m going to be too busy at work.”
His gruff mumble was the only response as she stood staring at the stove.
Acting on stage had been her dream for so long. She missed the green and red lights—so bright and hot, she’d have to fight the urge to scratch at the oil make-up.
Another person, another time, another place. She could envision it all with the heavy weight of the strange clothes settling on her shoulders and the smell of fresh paint on stretched canvas. She could be anyone, transported by the scenery and the lines —the drama.
The years since that horrible night when her mother died; her dreams had faded with time too. She couldn’t get those years back but she only needed to save a bit more, nab that promotion, and her dream to move to California to act would come true.
She didn’t have the heart to tell Garfield just how soon that move would be. Their nightly evening meals would have to end, and she’d have to leave him all alone.
Back in the family room, she setup the TV trays in front of the two lonely chairs. Garfield slept soundly, his head lolling to the side. Poor guy, he’d worn himself out—probably visiting with Miss Stutter.
She sighed as she looked around the nearly empty flat. Two framed posters of My Fair Lady and Camelot hung on the dismal off-white walls– —gifts from her mother. The tan carpet—more brown with dirt and age than with any real color– —adde
d a dismalness to the setting.
She’d done all she could with the small apartment when her dad and her had moved in. Back then, she’d been so worried about her father’s health that she hadn’t paid much attention to anything surrounding them. But now, she saw it as it was—old, run-down, and sad. Yes, despite the excitement of today and the promise in Maxwell’s eyes, it was time to move on. She had to keep her eye on the ball, not on the two sexy men who gobbled her up with their gazes. Even now she was trying to forget Maxwell’s grey eyes and that Darren’s English accent.
She definitely didn’t need to think of Maxwell and Darren in the same thought. Just the idea put goosebumps on her skin and made her nipples tighten. She snagged the remote from Garfield’s sleeping form and curled into a ball, clenching her thighs tight while reining in her thoughts.
Maybe she needed Survivor tonight. Anything to get her mind off of her wicked thoughts of those two muscular males and the feelings they’d stirred inside of her.
Chapter Three
Luke snagged her as soon as she walked in the office at seven forty-five in the morning. “Fred needs you.”
The admin didn’t say another word, but something was bothering him. Those blue eyes were more serious than she’d ever seen them in the past week she’d gotten to know him. Normally reserved, he was always kind. It never really shocked her that he was so smooth, he possessed a charm that made everyone around him serene. She definitely didn’t see him with Sally, the harridan.
Elle saw the problem immediately once she reached the conference room. Fred, his hair standing up on ends, was flanked by Darren and Maxwell. Flustered by the unending questions, Fred was having trouble forming a coherent sentence.
While Elle had her own problems with Fred, she didn’t like seeing him like that. He wasn’t a bad person, just indecisive and uncomplicated. He loved toys though, and working for a toy company was an excellent choice.
“Mister Maxwell and Mister Darren,” Luke interrupted. A strange flush rose up his neck as he fleetingly looked at Darren before settling on Maxwell.
Elle ignored the strange interplay and took the moment to check on Fred. He was sweating and turning a bit green. This wasn’t good. It would only make Maxwell or Darren more suspicious, when really it was just bad nerves. Before either man could continue the questioning, Elle spoke up. “Fred, I’m sorry I’m late, I hadn’t realized we would start so early. What have we covered so far?”
Fred took the opportunity like a man grabbing a lifeline, his voice coming out a bit squeaky with nerves. “Elle, yes, Maxwell and Darren were just asking me about the regulations on the floor and the ordering process.”
Elle ignored the pounding of her heart and the warmth curling in her stomach as both men’s eyes turned toward her. Darren’s eyes were appraising and curious while Maxwell’s steel gray ones burned her where she stood. She needed to stay on track. Their little interplay last night couldn’t interfere with her ability to do her job today. She needed to lock up her fantasies right now or her future would be over.
It was a quick decision. These men weren’t going to walk all over her. Cool, calm, and collected —like Meryl Streep in the Devil Wears Prada. That’s what she would be today. She was an actress and no matter how much she wanted to bow down to their sultry gazes and beg them for things she shouldn’t want, for today she was a high-powered executive.
Her promotion was on the line, time to put those acting lessons to good use and show Fred what she was made of. Shaking off any remaining trepidation, she imagined herself dressed in the highest fashion with the attitude to match. What would Miranda Priestly do?
“Gentleman, Fred and I would be happy to walk you through the entire order process. Luke, could you grab the projector? I have a PowerPoint presentation just for this.”
One look at Fred’s distraught face distracted her. Maxwell stepped forward. Before he could speak, she held up her hand. “I know you have a lot of questions, Mr. Stranton. I want to make sure we cover all the points of our process before you ask them. Our answers may make more sense. I know there have been a lot of concerns in the past on our approval process. I was not aware this was what was under scrutiny during your review, give me a few minutes and we can make sure everyone’s on the same page.”
Perhaps she was being a bit rude. However, Fred’s sigh of relief told her that she was on the right track. She might not seduce them, darn it if she wasn’t going to face them head on.
Luke excused himself from the room to get the projector.
Maxwell was not done, a frown marring his face. “Elle, these are questions Fred should be able to answer.”
A cold draft shivered down Elle’s back; the threat in his voice was very real. She was walking on treacherous ground. Something more was there too, a similar disapproving frown marred Darren’s face. She breathed deeply and dug deeper. “Fred doesn’t do well in big crowds.”
“There are just two of us.” Maxwell sneered.
“I helped put this process together and developed the presentation. Fred has graciously allowed me to step up on this project, and I’m probably better equipped to answer your questions.”
Darren stepped forward, his cerulean blue eyes tight and angry. “Are you telling me that you, a lowly analyst, have been running the team?”
Maxwell stiffened, while Fred gasped and finally spoke up. “No. Elle is not responsible for my team. But she’s right. She is better at explaining this.”
“What about the missing funds Mr. Zackary Stranton discovered? Are you going to be able to explain that too, Miss Norton?”
Elle stood her ground at Maxwell’s question. She wasn’t going to back down, no matter how much her real self-wanted to cower and beg for forgiveness for the anger and confusion she saw in Maxwell’s eyes. She didn’t know anything about missing funds. “I do not personally process the invoices, all of our team is very aware of the approval process and I’m sure any of them can answer specific questions. Intimidation will get you nowhere, Mr. Stranton.”
Heart thundering, she stood as Luke reentered with the projector.
She’d either just landed herself in hot water or was the bravest southern belle in existence. Her mother would have been proud. She could have won an Oscar for that performance. Darren and Maxwell put in their place, Elle setup the slide presentation with Luke’s help and tried to still her racing heart. A thumbs up from Fred told her that at least one person had appreciated her bluntness.
***
“I swear, another flick of that skirt is going to send me over the edge,” Maxwell said as he slammed the lid of his suitcase closed.
Darren swiveled in his chair and spun to face him. “She does have a nicely shaped ass, mate. Plenty of room to grab hold and ride her hard, don’t you think?”
Maxwell glowered at his friend. “Don’t be crass.”
“Hey, I’m just telling it like I see it. Between that and those stellar assets of hers—”
Maxwell spun the donkey’s ass around and hit him on the top of the head with a pad of paper. “Stop it.”
Darren grinned and began twirling his pencil, acting as if nothing had happened. “Knew it.”
“Knew what?” Maxwell skulked as he grabbed his coat.
“You like her. It must be the curvy American thighs and plump breasts. Or maybe that southern twang.” He emphasized the southern with a long drawl that made Maxwell want to throttle him.
Maxwell cursed Darren’s perceptiveness —the man knew darn good and well why he was attracted to her. “Have you ever thought it’s because she’s nice and has a personality?”
Darren considered that for a moment, a devilish smile creeping up on his face showing even white teeth. “Nah. Never been your type before, mate. Face it, she’s nice and sweet as apple pie and picnics. She ain’t going to go for what you need. Besides the dominance she showed today —that ain’t gonna work for us. Besides, Fred couldn’t take his eyes off her. She’s taken, man.”
Ma
xwell slumped into the chair and glowered. He replayed the day in his mind a million times. The sexy sway of her hips, the blush staining her cheeks, and the sweet smell of Elle. He got hard just thinking about her. The attraction was unmistakable, simple. Vanilla was sexy as hell as a scent, but left him cold and unaffected when it came to sex.
All day, he’d watched her, hoping and praying that she’d just give him an indication—just one—that she swung toward not just submission a bit of more—toward the sweet sensual delights of flickers of pain and pleasure delivered by strong steady hands and a sure whip.
He hadn’t gotten a read on Fred or their relationship yet. Her display of complete control over the situation this morning had sent him into a tailspin. Maybe he’d misread her southern charm for submission. If he misread her, this would never work.
“Darren, there’s something special about her.”
A smile briefly pulled at Darren’s lips before he became serious. “Elle’s not going to like it; she practically reeks of innocence, Maxwell. Might lean toward submission—I’ll grant you that. But only a smidgen, man and that’s suspect after today.”
“Tell me you don’t find her attractive. Fred’s not a problem—we’ve stolen many a woman from an inattentive lover.” Maxwell sneered. There was something more there that he wanted to explore, something better than the endless number of leather-clad women he’d had at his feet in submission over the years. That something warred inside of him and niggled at his conscious. He was wondering if he actually liked her southern charm and wicked tongue, things that had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with his emotions.
“She’s certainly got my dick’s attention; but if she can’t handle the domination and the pain, she’ll break.” Darren stopped twirling his pen and leaned forward. “Listen, there are tons of women at The Den that would give their right tit to be with you. Don’t let this one get under your skin. There’s nothing but pain there.”
Elle's Seduction Page 3
