by Terri Austin
Through hard work, long hours, and a few lucky breaks, Iain had gotten to know some of Vegas’s heavy hitters. He’d lost tens of thousands in friendly games of poker, all to win the trust of men who had deep pockets. Throwing away money damn near gutted him, but he’d done it with a shrug and a smile. He’d learned to play a decent round of golf, even though he despised the game. But the one thing Iain couldn’t quite manage was kissing ass. Fortunately, Marc excelled at it. “Being polite,” he called it. Together, they had grown their small business into a moneymaking enterprise.
Iain had created the world he’d envisioned as a lad, where he was the boss, where he called the shots, and where no one—except Marc—could question him. He’d come a long way from that frightened boy who cowered at the sound of his father’s voice.
There was more to be done, more to create. In this ever-changing town, people would remember his name. Iain Chapman was here, you fuckers. And you’ll never be as good as I was.
The car pulled up to the hotel. He climbed out and held the door for Brynn. “We opened a Southern bistro a few months back. I think you’ll like it here.” He reached down and offered her a helping hand. Brynn hesitated for the briefest second before placing her palm in his. He wanted those long, lovely fingers touching him, gripping his cock. His heart stuttered at the mental image—Brynn naked, her dark hair falling over one golden shoulder, her hand gripping him. Then she’d lower her head, take him in her mouth. Bloody hell. It was getting damned uncomfortable, having his cock this hard with no immediate chance of relief. Iain thrust his right hand into his trouser pockets, fumbled for the pair of dice, and escorted Brynn through the lobby.
Instead of going for a modern aesthetic, the hotel had used a timeless, traditional scheme for a quiet elegance, an air of refinement that one didn’t usually find in Vegas. It reminded Iain of a castle he’d toured on a school trip. That was the day he’d realized there was a difference between old shit—like the saggy, tattered furniture stuffed in his parents’ flat—and really old shit that only wealthy people could afford. His office was filled with the latter.
“Is the whole hotel yours?” Brynn openly glanced around, taking in the faded carpet beneath the chandelier.
“No.” Although it was just a matter of time. Iain had ambitions he hadn’t even begun to realize.
He kept hold of her hand and led her past the front desk and down a corridor. Wooden columns, polished to a high sheen, flanked either side of the restaurant doors.
Inside, the hostess greeted him with a wide, phony smile that looked more like a grimace. “Mr. Chapman. So good to see you.” She moved toward them, but Iain held up a hand to stop her.
“I’m headed to a table in the back. Give us two lunch specials and have the sommelier pair it with a couple of wines. Also, I’d like to see the manager before we leave.” He moved past her, guiding Brynn through the dining room.
Iain looked around. The place wasn’t quite half-full. Not bad for an early lunch, but he’d like to do better. Getting into the hotel itself had cost a bloody fortune. It would be worth it—eventually—but they needed to generate more customers during the day. He’d bring it up at the next meeting.
Iain stopped at the last booth, in the corner farthest from the kitchen. “What do you think?”
Sliding across the bench seat, Brynn ran her hand over the smooth wooden tabletop. “It’s lovely.”
“Pecan wood.” He knocked on it three times for luck. Not that he needed it.
A waiter hustled to the table and filled their water glasses. The lad was obviously nervous. Hands shaking, he dribbled water across the table. “So sorry, Mr. Chapman.” He mopped it up and shot a hasty glance in Iain’s direction. “I’ll bring out appetizers and the sommelier will be right over.”
Brynn gave him a bright smile. “Thank you.” Then she glanced at Iain. When he said nothing, she sighed.
“You’re welcome,” the waiter choked out and scurried away.
“These people are terrified of you,” Brynn said. “So are your employees at the office.”
“Why does everyone think that’s a bad thing?” His phone rang again, and he glanced at the screen. His banker. Thirteen years ago, Iain couldn’t get a loan. Now, he had his own personal banker. Success didn’t suck. “I’ve got to take this one.” As he chatted, the waiter came back and deposited a few nibbles on a tray. When the wine came, Brynn refused a glass. Her smile was open and friendly to the people who worked for him. But every time she looked at Iain, her expression became guarded.
Brynn put a few canapés on a plate and pushed it toward him. He nodded as he wrapped up his conversation. “What do you think of the food?” he asked once he’d ended the call.
“It’s delicious. These tomato tarts are amazing.”
“Heirloom tomatoes and goat cheese, I believe. You don’t like wine?”
“I do. But not at lunch or when I’m supposed to be facilitating a class. Which is a little difficult when my sole participant won’t participate.”
“Business is booming, what can I say?” He took a sip of wine. Dry and crisp. He usually didn’t indulge during the day either. Unless it was a working lunch, Iain ate a sandwich at his desk. But he’d wanted to be alone with Brynn, and if he could check on the restaurant at the same time…well, two birds and all that.
“Can you describe your process for problem solving?” she asked after polishing off the last bite of toasted corn bread.
“Oh God. Fine, I’ll answer your questions on one condition.”
“I don’t feel that conditions are necessary. You called us, remember? You’re paying for this course, Iain, and I don’t feel you’re getting your money’s worth by talking on the phone all morning.”
“So let’s continue over dinner.”
“That sounds suspiciously date-like. And besides, I have plans.”
Iain’s jaw tightened. She had a date? The background report specifically stated she didn’t have a boyfriend. This bloke must be new. Iain had never been jealous in his life, but he felt it now, burning hot inside of him. Over his dead fucking body would she go out with another man. “What’s his name?”
“What’s your process for problem solving?” she countered.
“I see a problem and I fix it. What’s. His. Name?”
“Can you describe a recent situation that called for immediate action?”
Iain shoved the plate aside and leaned his forearms on the table. “You think you can avoid my question, love. You’re wrong.”
“I—” She stopped talking as his frown deepened. “I don’t think we should get into personal topics. They’ll only cloud the issue.”
“What issue is that?”
Brynn seemed to be choosing her words carefully.
“Just spit it out, pet. No need to spare my tender feelings. I don’t have any.”
“I’m here as your educator. I can’t do my job if you’re not willing to do yours. I need your attention and your cooperation. Will you give me your cooperation, Iain?”
“Gladly.” Iain kept his eyes on hers, but extended his hand and trailed his fingers over the thin, copper bracelets lining her wrist. He twisted a couple back and forth. “How’s this wanker you’re dating going to feel when you start shagging me? He’s going to feel like rubbish, yeah? You’d best break it off with him now.” Without looking, he turned her hand over and slid his finger across her palm. “A recent situation that called for immediate action? And we’re not including our snog in the lift, right?”
Brynn opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her eyes grew wide as he slipped his finger over the heel of her hand and through two bracelets. Caressing her inner wrist, Iain felt Brynn’s pulse hammering against her skin. She liked it when he touched her. Her body’s response gave her away.
“Every situation calls for action,” he said. “It’s a matter of degrees, innit? I look at the big picture, decide what I want, and hire people to handle the details. If there are situations that
require immediate attention, I tend to those first, and I use all the resources at my disposal to fix a problem.” Yeah, Iain could speak corporate bullshit when it suited him. However, blunt words were generally more effective.
She lifted one brow. “And you use threats to get the outcome you want, like that man with the busted water pipe? Are those the resources you’re talking about?”
“I never threaten. Second rule of business: words are meaningless unless you can back them up. You make an example of one bloke”—he continued to softly rub her smooth skin—“and everyone else will fall in line.”
“I don’t think that’s the best way to go about getting what you want. What if you could, um”—she glanced down, watched his fingers trace the lines along her palm—“get the most from your employees and have them, you know, feel invested in the process? Wouldn’t that be a more satisfactory outcome?” Though she sounded winded, Brynn kept her hand in place and let him stroke her. Whoever this boyfriend was, he was yesterday’s news.
“And what would satisfy you, love?” As Brynn studied him with those solemn eyes, the moment seemed to stretch out and crackle with tension. It was the same kind of sexually charged energy they’d shared in the lift. Her lips parted slightly. With dark waves framing her face, she looked so young and fresh.
“We’re not talking about me,” she finally said. “We’re talking about your need for control.”
“I do like to be in control—in the boardroom. In the bedroom. I think you’d like that too.” She breathed in a little gasp and her eyes widened slightly. “So I ask again, what would satisfy you, Brynn Campbell?”
* * *
Seeing Iain Chapman buck-ass naked might do for starters. She wanted to watch him move, see the solid bands of muscle play over his body as he flexed. Brynn had taken a life drawing class in college. At first, she’d been so embarrassed when the guy dropped his robe that her strokes had been little more than squiggles. But once she got to work, the model ceased being a real person. He was like a bird or a bowl of fruit. Just another subject. Brynn couldn’t imagine viewing Iain that way.
What would it feel like to have him inside of her? Amazing, that’s what. To be held down and taken by this powerful, dominant man? That was her ultimate fantasy. Brynn’s breathing became erratic and her heart rate sped up to a scary pace.
In her fantasy, having Iain call all the shots would feel incredible, but in reality, it would probably be a disappointment. Brynn had trouble bringing herself to orgasm. Though her hormones gave the green light—she could throb and ache and come so close to release it was nearly painful—it rarely happened. She could count the times on one hand. It was depressing.
His earlier kiss, and now his touch, left Brynn with pent-up desire and a restlessness she’d become used to. Except with Iain, the level of unfulfilled sexual hunger was amplified times ten.
His fingers were long and blunted at the tips. She watched as he continued to sneak his thumb beneath her bangles and skim the veins crisscrossing her wrist. His touch was electric, causing goose bumps to march up her arms.
What was it about this man? The accent? Although Brynn was accustomed to Brit speak because of her brothers-in-law, Iain’s accent was different than what she was used to—rougher, sexier, with an edginess Trevor and Cal didn’t possess. Then there was the aura of power that surrounded him, a level of unshakeable confidence on display with every move he made. The way he carried himself with purpose and determination. Iain Chapman knew where he was going, and God help the idiot who got in his way. Ruthlessness wasn’t a great trait to have, and ordinarily it would have turned Brynn off, but Iain made it alluring. He was comfortable in his own skin, and that was appealing, too. Her pussy had been wet since that kiss, and now, with all these soft touches, he was keeping it that way. Job well done, sir. But there was no relief to be had. Not for Brynn.
She’d had two boyfriends in the past, each willing to try just about anything, but she was too shy to ask for what she really wanted—to be held down, controlled, subjugated by a strong man. After a while, her boyfriends had grown tired of working so damned hard and Brynn refused to fake it. The relationships fell apart.
Brynn resorted to watching porn—all flavors—and while it left her excited, she struggled to find a happy ending. She bought toys left and right, hoping one of them would unlock the mysterious, elusive puzzle that left her body in limbo. Brynn had even gone spelunking for her G-spot with zero results.
So now she was left with a duffel bag full of vibrators shoved in the back of her closet and sublimated energy she focused on work. Brynn knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up with a sexually aggressive man like Iain Chapman.
But if he took control…
No, it was hopeless. And though Iain’s touch felt crazy good, it wouldn’t culminate in fireworks. She was wound too tight to find release with a partner. It just wasn’t in the cards.
Time to put an end to all this flirting and touching and kissing. Taking a long pull of air, Brynn eased her hand away from his. “What I want is for you to take leadership training seriously.”
Iain continued to stare into her eyes. The air surrounding him was electric, heated. He was still thinking about sex, she could tell. His dick was probably hard, too. Hard and long and thick.
“Is that all you want?” he asked. “Because I think you like it when I touch you. Kiss you. Imagine what it will feel like when I fu—”
“Whoa.” When she held up her hand, the bracelets slid toward her elbow and made a soft tinkling sound. “All of that is completely wrong. I feel we need to stay on point. Let’s be honest, Iain, you have no intention of changing your attitude toward your employees. While that’s up to you, I have a truckload of work back at the office. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but there are companies who want my help.”
His phone rang on her last two words. “Hold that thought, love.” He pressed his cell to his ear and started an in-depth conversation about the cost of existing infrastructure and beam integrity.
Iain thought this course was a joke. He didn’t respect her work. He had time to kiss her, touch her, and verbally bait her, but no time to listen. That part was particularly insulting.
With halting, angry movements, Brynn grabbed her bag and scooted out of the booth. She crossed the restaurant, smiled at the hostess, and walked at a fast clip out of the hotel without ever looking back.
Iain Chapman could find himself a new trainer, because Brynn was through.
Chapter 5
After the taxi dropped her off at the parking garage near Iain’s office, Brynn hopped into her own car and called Paige Adams.
“How’s life on the outside?” Paige answered.
“Not as pleasant as you might think.” Since noonday traffic was a pain, with too many red lights and daring pedestrians darting into the middle of the road, Brynn hooked a left onto a side street. “How’s Camp Cray Cray this morning?”
“Head Counselor Fucking Nutballs asked me to call her house and leave affirmation messages for her cat. Seriously, Brynn, I can’t take much more of this. Keeping her on track is impossible. The woman’s so disorganized, she lost her phone in the break room freezer today. Who does that?”
An insanely neurotic, disorganized mess of a boss. “Listen, I’m going to try and sneak into the office. I need to be out of there by six tonight, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” Tonight was a newly instituted SNO, otherwise known as Sisters Night Out. Allie and Monica would make her life hell if she missed it. Getting out of a SNO required an act of God or a doctor’s note. Brynn had neither and deadlines didn’t count. “Can you create a diversion?”
“What kind of diversion?” Paige asked. “Do you want me to whip out a Snickers bar and send Brandon to the emergency room? That would shake things up around here.”
Recent hire, Brandon, and his peanut allergy had caused quite a stir. “Only if we want a lawsuit on our hands.”
“Dude needs to get an EpiPen and deal w
ith it. Why make the rest of us suffer?”
Brynn steered her Toyota toward the highway entrance ramp and floored it. “Perhaps if you step back from the situation and put things in perspective, you might find that your need for a midafternoon sugar rush isn’t as imperative as Brandon’s need to breathe. Maybe? Just a little bit?”
“Talk like a real person already. You’ve taken so many of those training courses, you sound like one of your own manuals.”
That wasn’t so terrible, was it? If there was one thing Brynn hated, it was confrontation, and by using neutral language, she could usually get her point across in a kind way. The coward’s way. You never say what you’re really thinking. So what? Brynn might temper her language, but that was hardly a fault. Take Iain Chapman for example—the man was blunt to the point of rudeness. If everyone went around spouting their true feelings, society would break down in a heartbeat. No, Brynn would stick to diplomacy. It was probably less satisfying than telling someone to fuck off, the way Iain would, but she’d have fewer regrets. “Just don’t let Cass know I’m in the office this afternoon, okay? And if a man named Iain Chapman calls, play dumb.”
“Cass totally takes advantage of you, Brynn. You could work in a normal place. A place where your boss doesn’t cry about her broken vibrator or tell you about the time she lost her virginity to a second cousin. It’s gross.”
“Yes, her sex stories are a little creepy, but Cass would fall apart without me. I just need an assistant to run interference and things will get better.” Besides, if Brynn ever tried to quit, Cass would only talk her into staying. Brynn had no illusions about her lack of spine—she’d fold like a card table the second Cass’s brown eyes filled with tears. Besides, Brynn liked her work most days. True, she could be making more in a bigger firm, but she’d have less creative control. Money wasn’t everything.
