Thinking of Peter made her stomach churn. She moved to the window and rested her forehead on it for a moment, closing her eyes and blocking out the view. How come, after all these years, she could still picture that scene in his office so clearly? Why had it haunted her so much?
She’d only been at the firm six months, fresh out of secretarial college, seventeen, naïve and innocent as they come. Christopher McAllister was in the process of setting up the Auckland office, coming and going between the two while he finalised details, leaving Peter to run the Wellington branch.
Peter had taken a liking to her from the beginning. Even in her naivety, Coco could sense that. When he walked past her desk, he stopped to perch on it and ask how she was doing. He came over and sat with her in the break room sometimes. And he started asking her more than the others when he wanted to give dictation. He said it was because she was so quick at shorthand, and she half-believed him, although that didn’t explain the way he liked to watch her while she worked, and how his gaze would run up her figure, admiring her breasts and her legs. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel. She’d never been on a date. Never even been kissed. It was the first time any man had paid her any real attention, and in some ways, she was flattered. But she knew he was married, and something about it didn’t feel right—he was thirty years older than her for a start.
So she tried not to think about it and worked hard. She loved the job, and she knew she was good at it. It would be difficult to get ahead because of dead man’s shoes—or dead woman’s, more likely, with the senior positions filled by older female staff who looked likely to be there for donkey’s years. But she didn’t let that deter her, and practised her shorthand and typing every night, took every course going, and generally worked her butt off.
Then one evening Peter asked her to help him finish a case he was working on. She’d stayed later than usual to finish some typing and went into his office without thinking, even though she knew there were only a few people left in the building. He talked for a while, made her some coffee, and didn’t seem in a hurry to discuss the case. Eventually she told him she should really be going because her mother would be waiting for her.
He came and sat beside her on the sofa to one side of his large office. He was a good looking guy, slim, athletic, with dark hair. He smelled good, and he was obviously rich. He sat too close to her and put an arm along the back of the sofa, and then he stroked her hair.
Coco sat frozen, heart pounding. He talked softly, telling her she was beautiful, that he couldn’t take his eyes off her, comments that flattered her, made her glow. And when he kissed her, she didn’t pull away.
Part of her knew this was wrong, but she was caught up in the moment, excited by the attention, by the newness of the sensations spiralling through her. She let him undo her blouse and slide it off her arms, take off her bra and kiss her breasts. And then she let him make love to her.
It wasn’t quite like in the novels she’d read or the movies she’d watched. It was awkward on the sofa and he was heavy on top of her. He didn’t seem to realise she was a virgin, and although she didn’t bleed—years of cycling around the city had put paid to that—it hurt, and she didn’t enjoy it.
Afterward, he kissed her again and told her she was pretty, and that she’d be rewarded for what she’d done. She went home, went straight to bed and cried herself to sleep, full of shame. The next day, she wondered what to do. Should she go to work? Ring in sick? Or ring in and quit? But she had to work notice, so she couldn’t really do that.
In the end, she decided she hadn’t done anything wrong. Although she’d slept with him willingly, she was sensible enough to know she’d been taken advantage of and what he’d done was wrong. So she went to work—to find she’d been appointed to head of the typing pool.
It was never mentioned again. Peter never made another move on her, and she never said anything, too ashamed at her actions and too relieved at the extra income to make a fuss about receiving a promotion she didn’t really feel she deserved.
And that had been that. As the years went by she put it to the back of her mind, knowing she did a good job and that the promotion had been a good move on the company’s part. And Peter kept his distance, was respectful and treated her well.
Occasionally there was the odd rumour of him having an affair, but she ignored it and concentrated on her work. And she’d been happy—until this thing with Sasha blew up.
She knew Dell was guilty. He’d tried to do exactly the same thing to Sasha that he’d done to her, but Sasha—at twenty-three, six years older than Coco had been, and with six years more spirit—had refused and now had to deal with the outcome.
Coco knew she should speak up about what happened all those years ago. She was in charge of the secretaries and it was her responsibility to support them. But she liked her job. She needed her job. She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost it—how would she cope? She could stay home and look after her mother instead of hiring a nurse during the day, but they still needed to eat, and she didn’t want to rely on benefits. And in the current economic climate there just weren’t that many jobs around.
So when Rob Drake had interviewed Sasha and taken her statement with Coco present, she’d kept quiet. Nobody suspected the cool Miss Stark would have been involved in anything like that.
But now here was Felix, asking questions and shining like Sir Galahad with self-righteousness. What would he think of her if she now admitted what she’d done all those years ago?
Chapter Nine
She checked her watch. Nine forty-five. Dell would be arriving soon, and then Felix would have to start the hearing. How was he getting on? Had he formed any opinions now he would have finished reading Sasha’s statement?
She hovered in the hallway. Should she check on him, see if he needed anything? A pad of paper, maybe? Pens? Or perhaps there were other files he’d like to see?
She chewed her lip. Truth to tell, in spite of the fact that she knew she should run a mile, she just wanted to see him again. That, in itself, should have made her turn around and walk back to her room, but instead she found herself walking along to his office.
As she reached his door, she heard voices and paused in the doorway. Felix sat behind the desk, leaning back in his chair, tapping on his iPad. Rob sat in front of the desk, slightly turned toward her, his feet propped on the chair in front of him.
“…depends on his attitude,” Felix was saying. “Regret goes a long way. It doesn’t wipe out a crime, of course, but it’s easier to forgive if someone’s remorseful.”
She hesitated, not wanting to interrupt, and turned to leave, but Rob looked up and saw her.
“Hey, Miss Stark. You need something?”
She turned back and gave them both a brief smile, noting that Felix put down the iPad and sat up in his chair at the sight of her. “I was just checking you have everything you need before you went into the hearing.”
Felix glanced at Rob, who stood and grinned at him. “I’ll let you know when Dell arrives,” Rob said, and walked past her out of the office.
“Oh, you don’t have to go…” But he’d gone. She looked back at Felix, who gestured to the chair Rob had vacated.
“He knows I have something important and confidential to ask you,” Felix said.
“Oh?” Her stomach churned. She’d been dreading talking about Peter Dell, fearful of what this hearing might stir up.
Felix leaned forward on the desk, twirling a stylus between his fingers, and fixed his brown eyes on her. “Will you come to dinner with me tonight?”
Her nerves fled, and she glared at him. “I thought you were going to ask something professional.”
“Whatever gave you that idea? Well, will you?”
“No. Thank you.” She stood and smoothed down her skirt. “I don’t date.”
He leaned back in his chair and surveyed her, head tipped to one side. “What, never?”
Actually no, she thought, but she didn�
�t want to get into that conversation. “Not with people I work with—I told you.”
“But you’re not married, engaged, seeing someone else, or gay.”
Her lips twitched. “No.”
“In that case, what have you got to lose? I promise not to tell anyone if you won’t.”
She looked at him over the top of her glasses, which usually struck fear into most of her work colleagues. Felix just raised an eyebrow, however, and his eyes gleamed, and she had the funny feeling she’d just turned him on.
“You’re only here for a day,” she said hastily. “Won’t you be going back to Auckland tomorrow?”
He shrugged. “Depends on my findings. I have a feeling I’m going to have to carry out a complete investigation.” He grinned.
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t do that—you wouldn’t postpone a decision just so you can stay here and annoy me.”
He laughed at that. “No, Miss Stark, I’m not that Machiavellian. But if I do stay here for a while, you’re going to have to get used to me asking you on a daily basis—probably several times a day—for a date.”
The thought of him being in her offices for more than a day made her a little dizzy. But that panicky excitement was dampened by the thought of poor Sasha having to wait for an outcome—an outcome that she herself could hasten along, if only she had the courage to say something.
Felix leaned forward again. “I’ve upset you. I’m sorry.”
Once again she was aware of his consideration, that he’d seen the slip in her mood. “No, no, it’s not you. I was thinking of Sasha. She was very nervous this morning. It would be a shame for her to have to wait for a decision.”
“Actually it would probably mean the likelihood of a more favourable outcome for her. I may walk out of the hearing today having found Peter Dell innocent, but if I’m not satisfied with his explanation of his behaviour, I will want to talk to Sasha and get her side of the story.”
“And what if the partners pressure you to ignore the charges?” she said softly. It had been her worry all along. Part of her wanted Felix to find Peter guilty, as proof to herself that what he’d done all those years ago was wrong, maybe to finally assuage some of the guilt she’d carried with her since she was seventeen. But she couldn’t see it happening. Surely Christopher and some of the other partners would put pressure on Felix to have a favourable outcome?
But Felix’s eyes were clear, and his humour had vanished. “I do have a conscience, Miss Stark. I assure you, I’m here to find the truth.”
She met his gaze and swallowed. His eyes bored into her as if he could see right through her, see what she was thinking.
“Someone told me you always know if people are telling the truth,” she whispered. “In the court room I mean. That you have a natural instinct for who’s guilty and who’s innocent. Is that true?”
“Oh,” he said, not looking away. “If he’s telling porkies, I’ll know.”
She blinked. “Porkies?”
He grinned. “Sorry. Pork pies. Lies.”
“What…” She shook her head. “You baffle me.”
“Hmm, likewise. You are a mystery, Miss Stark.” He tapped the stylus on the table. “One I am determined to get to the bottom of. And I’m like an only child.”
“Spoiled?” she suggested. “Badly behaved?”
His lips curved, but his eyes were so hot they sent a frisson running down her spine. “I always get what I want.”
Felix watched Coco’s eyes widen at his words. He grinned. He liked shocking her. She was obviously unused to flirting, but he sensed from the way her face flushed that she didn’t entirely hate it.
“You’re incorrigible,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
He laughed. Behind her, Rob appeared in the doorway and nodded.
“Okay.” Felix got to his feet. “It’s time. Now, Miss Stark, I have something to put to you. I want you.”
She gasped. “Mr. Wilkinson!”
“I haven’t finished yet.” He winked at Rob, who adopted an innocent face as she turned to give him an embarrassed look. “I was going to say ‘I want you to do something for me.’ I’d like you to attend the hearing.”
She frowned. “Me? Why?”
“Officially? To take minutes, please. I could use a voice recorder, but this time I would actually prefer them done by shorthand and typed up.”
“Any secretary could do that for you,” she said.
“True, but firstly this is a delicate, confidential matter and I don’t think any of the other secretaries should be a witness to what’s said in that room. And also unofficially, as far as I know, there are going to be six men in the room—me, Rob, Christopher, Peter, Hugh White from HR and Jack Lawson, who’s there as Peter’s support. That seems a little unbalanced to me with regard to gender, and I’d like a woman in the room. I’d have asked the only female partner—” he didn’t bother to hide the irony in his voice at the use of the word only, “—but she’s in Christchurch today. So it would make sense for you to be there, as representative not only for the office staff and for Sasha De Langen, but for women in general.”
She blinked. The request had clearly thrown her. “I…I have a lot to do…”
That surprised him. He thought she would have welcomed the opportunity to be there to defend both Sasha and the rights of women in the office.
“It is of course your decision.” He smiled. “But I’d be grateful for the help.”
She met his gaze, her eyes narrowing. He knew putting it like that would make it more difficult for her to refuse. “All right.” She swallowed and smoothed her jacket down with her palms. She was nervous. He softened at that realisation.
“Don’t worry.” He began to pick up the files on his desk and gathered them together in his briefcase. “It’s not a trial. I doubt you’ll have to say anything—I’m not going to call on you to give evidence or anything, and I’m not expecting you to accuse or defend Peter Dell. It’s more a case of providing a female influence in the room. Because of the nature of the accusation, I want to refrain from a guys all together atmosphere. It’s natural for members of the same sex to do that, but this should steer us away from those sorts of problems.”
He didn’t miss her twitch at the word sex, and he had to hide a smile. So maybe she was having trouble not thinking about the two of them in bed too? Every time he looked at her, he felt an urge to press his lips against hers, to slip off her jacket, unbutton her white shirt and slide it down her arms and cup her breasts. To unpin her hair and see if it really did feel like silk in his fingers.
He stifled a groan and picked up his briefcase and iPad. He had to try to concentrate. There were more important matters at hand than the fact that he hadn’t had sex for ages, and he really didn’t want to go into the boardroom with an erection.
“Ready?” he asked her.
She straightened her jacket—again—and nodded, so he walked to the door and stood to one side, gesturing for her to precede him. She did so, lowering her eyes and pressing herself up against the frame so she didn’t have to touch him as she squeezed past. It didn’t quite work—her breasts brushed his jacket and her hair came within inches of his lips, so close he could smell the coconut shampoo she’d used.
He sighed inwardly and followed her along the corridor, exchanging an amused glance with Rob, who appeared to be enjoying watching him flirt with the prim office manager. At least walking behind her, he could have a good look at her butt in the tight grey skirt.
She paused by a store cupboard to pick up a shorthand notepad and a pencil, then continued to the boardroom. She took a deep breath and knocked before opening the door. Felix and Rob followed her in.
Chapter Ten
It was a large room with splendid views over the harbour, decorated to impress and perhaps intimidate a little, thought Felix, with a long oak table running down the centre surrounded by a dozen polished oak chairs. On the othe
r three walls hung traditional oil paintings of New Zealand landscapes, and a coffee pot stood on a table in the far corner with cups and bowls of sugar and jugs of milk. The room smelled of beeswax polish, aftershave and the faint smell of cigar smoke.
Christopher stood as they entered, as did Hugh White, the youngish head of Human Resources Felix had met on his tour. Jack Lawson, another partner in his late fifties, didn’t rise, Felix noticed, and neither did the man in the room he hadn’t met yet, although as he walked up to him, Peter Dell finally got to his feet, albeit reluctantly.
“You must be Mr. Dell,” Felix said, holding out his hand. “I’m Felix Wilkinson.”
Peter nodded, and they shook hands. “Good to meet you at last. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
And I about you, thought Felix, taking the opportunity to size the man up for the first time.
He knew Peter, at fifty-eight, was a year younger than Christopher, but whereas his boss was ageing gracefully with his white hair, Peter was obviously trying to fight it with every last cell in his body.
True, the guy looked good—tallish, probably just under six foot, slim and he obviously worked out. Felix had half-expected a pot-bellied, leering, balding oaf with a stomach that hung over his belt, but the truth was far from it. Peter had dark hair, piercing blue eyes, sensuous lips and he carried himself with a confidence that Felix knew would appeal to the ladies, although to himself it bordered on arrogance. The expensive suit he wore gave testament to the fact that the guy was wealthy and liked to show it.
Ultimately, there was nothing wrong with that. Felix himself liked his little luxuries and wasn’t afraid to flaunt the fact that he was well off. And on the whole, Peter looked intelligent, shrewd and cool, not at all the bluff idiot Felix had somehow expected.
Still, as he released Peter’s hand and stepped back, he had to stifle the urge to wipe his palm on his pants. Slime ball, was the first phrase that jumped into his head. He’s guilty, was the second, and although he annoyed himself with the immediate conclusion, he’d been right enough times in the past to not ignore his first impression.
Five Exotic Fantasies: Love in Reverse, Book 3 Page 6
