by Talyn Scott
Though he was keeping his tone soft, his true demeanor under the gentlest wrap, Vania knew better. Drake was a tiger who prowled and hunted struggling companies, waiting until their stocks nearly bottomed out before swooping in and buying them for pennies on the dollar. From there, he reconstructed those near-death companies in the Easton way, promoting significant stock gains in the process. Then, when the time was right — and Drake never failed on timing — he sold those reconstructed beauties at a staggering profit.
Like most Eastons, Drake put the filthy in rich, but his money wasn’t what lured Vania. His face, his body, his scent, and even the way he walked, called to her on a visceral level she couldn’t shake. But still, her feelings were purely lust; otherwise, she wouldn’t be in love with Matt. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
“Is it Evan?” Drake pressed, when she didn’t answer him.
“Not at all.” Vania wanted to stare into Drake’s eyes as he came inside her. “In all honesty,” she lied, “I’m short on caffeine.”
His lips twitched. “That can turn serious.” He reached across his desk, lifted a thick file, and placed the phone to his ear with his opposite hand.
“Miss Bellamy,” Drake said to Cora, “please order lunch and a strong pot of coffee for Miss Lange. Have it sent to her desk.” He ended the call and leaned, crossing his ankle over his knee in that guy way.
“Lunch?”
“If you haven’t had time for coffee, I doubt you’ve eaten a proper meal. You may be Avery’s PA, but I promised I would take care of you in his absence. And I will.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled. “Let’s get started so you can eat.”
“Yes, Sir.” A line of sweat started forming in her cleavage. Since she was wearing a thin silk blouse, the embarrassing evidence of her desire would show in minutes.
“Avery said he left you in charge of The Sarasota Firehouse during his absence.”
“Yes, I was on location last night and also during my lunch hour.” The Sarasota Firehouse was an incredible, historic site Avery’s wife and her partner had transformed into an art gallery slash apartment house.
Avery had offered Vania a side salary that she couldn’t refuse. All he wanted was for her to keep the place going while he was away honeymooning. The extra money she earned would wipe out a chunk of her upcoming wedding bills. But these first two days had been a doozy, and Vania wondered how she would continue for the next twenty-eight days without failing. Or losing her mind.
“Your first impression?”
“Even though the firehouse is in its infancy the property demands a full-time manager.”
“I figured as much. Avery was in a hurry to leave, didn’t think everything through.” Drake ran fingers through his hair, the black gleaming beneath the recessed lighting. He opened the file across his lap, his chin dipping as he studied it. “But I can’t blame him. A wedding is a once in a lifetime experience.”
“I agree.” But she was shocked to hear Drake felt that way. Many wealthy businessmen often married two or more times, before they settled down. “I hope Avery, Dylan, and Payton share a lifetime of happiness.” Their marriage was unusual, consisting of two husbands instead of one, but those closest to the Eastons knew to keep the nature of the marriage private.
“They will. I’m sure of it.” Drake lifted his head, refocusing on her. “So start with the most urgent matter at the firehouse.”
Vania shoved her glasses up her nose, the sweat making them slippery. “The art gallery side is throwing a fundraiser for the children’s hospital, to help finish building the state-of-the-art burn center Avery started.”
“How’s that going?”
“Well…” Vania hadn’t overseen a fundraiser of this size. She felt like she’d been tied to train tracks and given a pat on the head for good luck.
“Miss Lange.”
“We’re showcasing Sarasota artists, though only half of those have committed.” She swiped a hand across her forehead. “But that didn’t stop Avery from selling every ticket available to his elite circle.”
“Yes, he worked package deals with our hotel for traveling guests.” Drake ignored his buzzing phone. “The burn center is Avery’s baby, so the fundraiser needs to run as smoothly as you run his corner of this office.”
“I’ll do my best, Sir.”
“You will with more help. My Aunt Gilda is involved with this particular fundraiser.” He glanced at her electronic tablet. “Did anyone give you her number?”
“No.” When she moved her fingers over her home screen, Vania noticed them trembling. “I’ll enter it in my contacts.”
“May I?”
“Sure.”
Drake lifted the tablet from her hand, skimming her wrist with a negligible touch. But she felt it to her core, her wet core. As he entered his aunt’s information, she crossed her legs, trying to ward off her need. Matt could not create this raw, consuming hunger in her Drake Easton created without even knowing it.
“All set.” Drake placed her tablet on the edge of his desk. “I’ll tell Aunt Gilda to expect your call, so contact her before you leave for the day. She’s invaluable when it comes to fundraisers and how to handle self-important patrons who tend to drive everyone else insane, so lean on her years of experience.”
“Thank you.” She watched his long, elegant fingers situate the thick file across his lap. “I will.”
“Back to the firehouse’s everyday business, Avery’s hiring two managers for his wife, Payton, and her business partner, Libby.” He cocked his head. “Though the media hasn’t found out, I trust you know —"
“Yes, Sir.” Both women were pregnant. “Considering the firehouse and surrounding grounds are huge, hiring two managers sounds like the best plan. So a general manager and a maintenance manager?”
“Avery was going for an art gallery manager and a separate manager for the apartments.” A line formed between his eyebrows. “Is maintenance that involved, where the property needs a full-time manager?”
“Your construction crew did an excellent job tidying up the original refurbishment.” She chose her words carefully, trying not to insult anyone. “But the majority of the structure is still original.”
“Old, you mean.” He tapped his fingers. “If a property is continually updated every decade or so, the maintenance is simpler. But Libby and Payton started from the ground up. The entire structure should have been demolished.”
In two days, Vania had encountered one thing after another, from clogged pipes in the apartments to failing spotlights in the gallery. “Libby and Payton put their heart in the place, though. How can you tear down anything where the heart’s invested?”
“I invest money in buildings, Miss Lange, not my heart. Makes them easier to sell later.” Drake pursed his lips. “So we need two managers and a full-time maintenance person — not necessarily a maintenance manager.”
“A well-paid maintenance person,” Vania clarified.
He chuckled. “That bad, huh?”
“We’re a little backed up.” That wasn’t the worst of it. “I haven’t notified Avery yet. But yesterday, three rental agreements fell through on the apartments.” When Drake seemed unconcerned, she added, “The place is deep in the red, so I must find immediate tenants to replace those lost. With my schedule here and the upcoming fundraiser there, this will take time I don’t have.”
“That’s an easy fix,” he said, making a note. “Come up with a figure and I’ll wire the necessary funds to the firehouse’s bank account from my personal account. Let the next manager worry about finding tenants, and you’ll have a slice of time back.”
The Eastons were old money, built on generation after generation of hard work and loads of cash. The Easton Company was world renowned, its global properties consisting of five star hotels and mind-boggling real estate. But Vania wondered why Drake would offer to bail out the firehouse with his private funds.
“Let’s say I’m a
generous soul.”
“What?” Her face heated. “I didn’t say anything.”
“I can read people, remember? You were thinking it, so I answered your unspoken question.” His smile sharpened his cheekbones, and Vania wanted to trace them with the tip of her tongue — an impossible wish. “I’ll ask Julian to help you interview a few managerial candidates. He has an eye for rooting out success-driven talent.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“Some situations are simple.” He raised an eyebrow. “And others require rolling of the sleeves, which is what you’ve done well for your first ninety days on the top floor.” He handed her a thick document from his file folder. “On behalf of Avery and The Easton Company, please review this revised version of your employment contract.”
Vania adjusted her glasses and started reading. The twenty-seven percent salary increase stood out like a neon sign. She squinted and reread, wondering if she’d misunderstood. Three weeks of vacation instead of two? Yep, right there it was in black and white.
She blinked and looked up at Drake. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and concentrated solely on Vania. “Miss Lange, you know what your job entails better than anyone.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Avery wants you well compensated for the workload in which you’re committed.”
“Thank you… I mean, I’ll thank Mr. Easton when I next speak to him.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “So you don’t want to mull it over? Additional responsibilities are listed.”
“I understand and I’m grateful.” For this kind of money, she’d take on the world with savage grace. Vania signed with a flourish, and handed it back to Drake before he realized how much The Easton Company was paying her.
Drake stood and handed her the electronic tablet. “While you eat, I’m going to call in a favor.” His hand pressed against her lower back, as he led her to the door. “There’s an artist who painted several life-sized, fiberglass dolphins with varying scenes for the hospital.”
“When the updated children’s wing reopened at the hospital?”
He nodded.
“I heard about those dolphins.”
“Hopefully, Mr. LuVre can fill in the missing artwork at the firehouse.” He laughed low. “It’ll take some arm twisting I’m sure.”
“The fundraiser is seven days away, Mr. Easton. I don’t —"
“Though Mr. Easton rolls off your tongue effortlessly, you’re forgetting who I am.”
No way could she forget. “Okay,” she said when Drake opened the door for her. “I’ll give you my blind faith.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Evan said from right outside the threshold. He stepped aside so Vania could pass him. “But you can give it to me.”
Vania kept walking. From behind her, she heard Drake mutter something under his breath to Evan, but she couldn’t make it out. Then Drake’s door slammed, closing both Eastons inside.
Something delicious smelling wafted to her nose. When Vania spotted the tray on her desk, she realized Cora had abused her power by ordering from the most expensive restaurant downstairs — a five star with a six-month reservation list.
“You’re trying to derail my diet.” Her stomach grumbled. “A salad from the deli would have sufficed.”
“You want leaves?” Cora lifted silver domes from the salvers, and waved her opposite hand like a fairy godmother. “Cauliflower with orange-bacon marmalade, butternut squash waffles topped with brown butter and Asian Pears, and a Black Angus filet mignon drizzled with cabernet wine sauce.”
Vania slumped in her desk chair and discreetly kicked off her shoes, rubbing the heel that always bothered her. “I won’t fit in my wedding dress if I eat this.”
Cora winced and lifted the final dome. “I guess I’ll have this German chocolate cake with caramel sauce, then.”
“Ordered yourself a tip, did you?” Vania waved her hands, fighting the urge to take back the cake. She closed her eyes, visualizing the dimples of cellulite dotting her thighs. “Be gone, Chocolate Demon!”
Laughing greedily, Cora carried the cake back to her desk. “Chocolate’s not the demon you need to be worried about.”
Vania’s eyes snapped open. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, no, you should figure that one out for yourself.”
Chapter 5
“Matt honey, I have something to tell you.” Vania turned her cellphone on speaker as she changed lanes. Five o’clock traffic was always a bitch, so why was it bumper-to-bumper at seven? “I—”
“You’re not using your Bluetooth, Van.”
“What?”
“The headset I bought you.” Matt sighed. “Why aren’t you using it?”
“I have you on speaker —"
“I can tell. Sounds like you’re in a can.”
“In the car,” she corrected. “Anyway, I have something I want —"
“Do you have any idea how many emergencies I treat from car accidents caused by cellphone misuse?”
“I’m not breaking the law,” she argued. “You’re on speaker, remember?” She wanted to scream, but kept her voice steady. “There’s no misuse.”
“But if that phone slid to the floor —"
“Right after I handle this last item on my work list, I want to take you to dinner,” she cut Matt off in mid-tirade. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Shit, you’re scaring me.”
“Scaring you?” Vania turned left, heading past the aquarium. “How?”
“Spit it out,” he groaned. “You’re pregnant, right?”
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She could get pregnant while on the pill. But what were the odds when Matt rarely made love to her? “Dr. Lambert, the last day of my period was two days ago.” They weren’t quite ready for a baby. But why was Matt upset at the possibility? “Do the math.”
A distinct sigh of relief broke through the phone. “I’m sorry, Van. But we need our first year or so of marriage to ourselves. We discussed this.”
“You seem to think I’m hitting you up for a baby now.” She stopped at the light before the hospital’s main drive. “I may not save lives, but I have a career, too, Matt.” She bit off a lie, “I’m not ready for baby yet.”
“I know you have a career. You’re a great secretary.”
Did he listen to anything she told him? “I’m a PA.” She’d worked damn hard for her latest promotion. Without a college degree, she’d put in more hours than others at the company, clawing her way upward until she could see that damn light shining down on her — telling Vania to come and take what she wanted. Thank God Avery Easton had given her a chance. She’d sworn not to disappoint him.
“Sorry, Van.” He sounded more irritated than sorry.
Even before her last two salary increases, Vania hadn’t taken a dime of Matt’s money when it came to paying for the wedding. And he accepted her monthly contributions to his mortgage, plus utilities and groceries. He’d paid his college loans off in record time and bought his Mercedes. Vania still drove her seven-year old Toyota.
“I’m okay. You’re the last person I want to argue with.” Though hadn’t arguing turned into a weekly pastime?
“I keep stepping on your toes tonight.”
Only tonight? That’s what he thought? Vania heard him cover the phone with his hand, his muffled voice in the background for a second.
“Listen,” he said, “I’m bogged down here.”
“It’s seven and today is your half day.” She pulled in the hospital’s parking lot and found a space close to the children’s wing.
“I was paged to the emergency room. They told me Murphy has the flu. Between us, he’s hungover again. Divorce is getting to him.”
“So when will I see you?”
“I’ll be home in a few hours, Van, but don’t wait up.”
Of course not! Why should she expect sex? Or any intimacy whatsoever? Or for Matt to listen to her news ab
out the salary increase with her latest promotion. “Sure, I’ll see you when I see you.”
“Love you, Van.”
She muttered something; maybe an I love you. But it didn’t matter. Matt had hung up before he heard.
Vania turned off the car and stared at her engagement ring, wondering. The damn thing felt tight on her finger, partly weighed with guilt. Night after night, she’d masturbated to thoughts of sucking Drake’s cock. She imagined taking him with her legs spread high, wide, and bent over his forearms while he was drilling her with the single-minded intensity of a man in love. She had no idea what had come first: Matt’s inattentiveness and subsequent dismissals, or her lust for Drake Easton.
The more she thought back to when she’d first stepped foot on the top floor, the cloudier her memory became. Chicken and eggs came to mind, and she’d never figure out what came first.
To add to her guilt, thoughts of Evan crashed through her masturbating sessions. Sometimes Drake didn’t leave when Evan came along, and she’d visualize four hands, two mouths, and two huge…
“Snap out of it!” she screamed.
“You on drugs?” An old lady stood next to her car, tapping her window with the handle of her cane.
Vania blinked and gave a universal reply. “Men.”
“Ah.” She marched on.
With resignation to finish this day’s work, Vania tugged her electronic tablet from her satchel and glanced over the artist’s information Drake emailed her. How the man acquired a pledge of two painted manatees and one pelican from Jon LuVre— all three scheduled for delivery to the firehouse before the fundraiser deadline — she’d never know. But the way Drake moved the world favorably in her direction with a phone call or two was nothing short of astonishing.
She made her way to the children’s wing and spent an informative and highly interesting hour with Mr. LuVre.
After wrapping up the meeting, Vania walked with him to the second floor landing, which led from the children’s wing to the downstairs lobby. When they stopped, she placed her hand on the bannister of the curving glass staircase. “Thanks for meeting me, Jon. I appreciate you working the fundraiser in on such short notice.” She shook her head. “After seeing the sculptures here at the hospital, though, I don’t know how you’re going to pull it off in a week.”
