by Lilac James
Just a day ago, she would have been mortified. Now she wanted to giggle again. No wonder Edwin had blushed and fled. Although she couldn’t control her surprise that he even recognized what those hard little points were. Or what they indicated. He must be about as knowledgeable as she.
Before she could depress herself terminally, she heard someone marching down the hall toward her. Mr. Ferguson, she knew, just from the firm, commanding stride. Somehow he managed to make each step ring, as though the floor were bare hardwood instead of carpet.
She leaped to her feet.
He strode through the door like a conquering hero, at the head of a group of executives. She swallowed a gasp. His imposing height and wide shoulders could spark the most lurid female fantasy. She hadn’t seen shoulders like that since—since—last night. He must be about the same size as Mr. X, but so much more—polished. Oh my. Oh my dear goodness.
Movie-star-handsome face. Dark hair, piercing steel-gray eyes that drilled right through her. Her gaze arrowed to the front of his impeccable bespoke trousers, and she was rewarded with a bulge that not even the most expensive Italian tailoring could hide.
Bessie swallowed hard. Get a grip. She couldn’t allow thoughts of last night, or tonight, or any other night to hold her mind hostage. She went blank, her mouth dried like the Sahara. She wanted a rerun of last night, with this man bound and trembling, with him swearing and spurting and—oh God. She’d lost her mind.
“Mr. Ferguson,” said Hendricks, the vice president of Human Resources, “This is your admin, Bessie Baxter. She’s been here forever.”
Thanks, you jerk, for making me sound like I’m a hundred years old. Hendricks had never been one of her favorite people.
Before she could say anything, the owner of the company strode through the door, brushing Hendricks aside like a pesky fly. “So you got here. Finally,” he said to the new CEO while Bessie watched in horror. Surely he wasn’t going to give the man a public dressing down.
No, he wasn’t. Horror turned to confusion as the two men shook hands and grinned at each other like—like—Bessie gulped. They looked like old friends. No, closer. Like father and son.
“Uncle Joe,” Mr. Ferguson said, and she understood.
They were family. She gulped. It wasn’t enough to work directly for the CEO. Not enough that he had to be the hottest thing she’d seen since…since…Mr. X. No, he had to be related to the owner. No pressure, of course. About three seconds before she fainted dead away, “Uncle Joe” led his nephew into the inner office and shut the door. Bessie slumped into her chair and fanned herself with a file folder, trying to shake away the memory of last night.
Oh man, was she in trouble.
* * * *
Reece stood in the middle of his new office. Huge, bare desk. Windows on two sides. Expensive antique furniture. Carpet thick enough to lose a couple of minor employees in. Comfortable-looking seating area with a top-of-the-line music system. Door to a private bathroom. Yep. He’d made it to the big time, all right. Finally. His uncle had been harder on him than on any other employee, but he’d finally gotten here. If he could pull off this job, he’d be a full partner.
He should be worried about whether he could do the job. Instead his mind splintered between wondering if the private bathroom had a shower, his badly dressed but somehow tempting admin, and the mystery woman from last night.
And why, why in the name of all that was holy to anyone on earth or the eight planets had he let Lafcadio bully him into a return engagement tonight? By tonight he’d have the keys to his own—well, the company’s own—elegant penthouse condo, and he wouldn’t need to sell himself in return for a place to sleep. He choked on the thought. But that was what it had been. Selling himself.
And enjoying it. He had to be honest with himself. Lafcadio hadn’t bullied him into anything he didn’t want to do. The whole experience had been more exciting than he would have believed possible, and he couldn’t wait for tonight.
“Are you all right?” His uncle’s question snapped him back to the here and now. “You looked like you were about to vomit all over your new rug. Don’t you like the office? Your aunt and your mother have been driving us stark raving bonkers with their redecorating.”
“No. I mean yes, I like it. That was very nice of them.” He did like the room, he realized. And it had been a nice thing for them to do.
“I agree. Now you can get right to work. None of that ‘settling in’ crap. I want you to straighten out the mess that ass over in HR made.”
That was the first Reece had heard of the problem. “What mess? I thought I was supposed to concentrate on increasing profits.”
“You are. This is a little thing that cropped up after I arranged your transfer.”
Reece waited, but his uncle didn’t say anything more. After a long minute, Reece said, “You might as well tell me. I’m going to have to know what the problem is before I can solve it, you know.”
His uncle sighed. “I know. It’s just so damn stupid.” He stalled into silence again and began pacing around the room.
The handwriting might as well have been painted in neon colors on the soft ivory of the walls. Reece moved to sit behind his desk, the position of authority from which all solutions flowed. “Well?”
Joe flung himself into the visitor’s chair across the desk and glared at his nephew.
Reece forced himself not to flinch away from the angry gaze. He folded his hands and waited.
“You know the company has a strict no-fraternization policy.”
“Of course I know that. I’ve been running the London branch for three years, and before that it was Paris. I had to fire a few people there because of your rule, if you recall.”
“Well.” Joe coughed. “People in this country are so damn uncooperative. There’s this woman got fired for fraternization, and she’s suing the company.”
“So why am I involved? We have a legal department. They should be able to take care of it.”
Joe stood and took a quick, irate turn around the room. “Not quite that easy. It seems the damn twit your predecessor hired to manage HR was sleeping with her, promising to marry her, and fired her when his wife found out and threatened to divorce him.”
Sounded open and shut to Reece. “So basically the company is guilty.”
His uncle nodded grimly. “In spades.”
“Shit.” Reece drummed his fingers on the desk. “We’ll have to pay her off.”
“She’s asking five million bucks to keep quiet.”
“Five— Not a chance.”
“Of course not. But you’re not listening. That’s her price to keep quiet.”
“So basically she’s blackmailing the company.”
“Well, finally. You got it.”
“I don’t see the problem, Uncle Joe. We admit wrongdoing, give her a reasonable settlement, fire the ass who promised to marry her, and let her talk.”
“Our reputation,” Joe said, his voice rising in an almost howl. “We can’t have the negative publicity. We have to keep her quiet. We have to do—”
Oh deliver him from the old-fashioned, cover-up-everything-nasty attitude. “Uncle Joe,” he said with as much patience as he could dredge up. “Listen to me. We cannot keep her quiet. Not without involving hit men and murder.” When his uncle brightened, he hurried on. “And we are not doing that. Based on what you’ve told me, the HR guy is guilty, hence the company is guilty, and I will take action accordingly. As soon as I verify that I have all the facts.”
His uncle eyed him with a truculent glare. “Then what?”
“As I said, then I will take the necessary action.”
“But the company name.”
“The company name will be best served by doing what’s right. That’s been my standard in every job I’ve held in this company, and it’s worked well for both of us.”
“If she goes to the press…”
“She probably will. We’ll need proof that she tried to blackm
ail us, and we’ll be able to show that—what’s his name?”
“Hendricks.”
Reece leaped to his feet. “That sycophantic idiot who brought me up here? What the ever-loving bloody hell is that man doing still working here?” he yelled.
“We need—”
“I need our attorneys up here. Now,” Reece said.
“Just a minute, boy. I’m still your boss, and I won’t have this.”
Reece rose and leaned across the desk, his hands planted on the polished surface. His eyes narrowed, and what his London admin had called “the laser look” drilled his uncle. “You’re still my boss, you’re still my uncle, but you’re not still in charge here. You hired me to fix this, and you will back off and let me do it or I walk. Right now.” His voice had gone quiet as death.
After a long moment, his uncle looked away. “Your mother said I’d regret moving you to this branch,” he said before turning and leaving the office.
Reece glared at the door, which his uncle had closed softly. Anger simmered through him like carbon dioxide bubbles in a diver with the bends. He wanted to punch something. Or throw something. Instead, he threw himself back in the chair, only a little relieved when it didn’t tip over, and counted to ten. In three different languages. Wonderful. Just peachy keen. No pressure, though.
* * * *
Bessie started up from her desk when Mr. Ferguson charged out of his nephew’s office, but he strode past as though she were wallpaper.
Wow. Wonder what they argued about. She shrugged and sat, turning back to her computer. She had to get some work done. The monthly financial report couldn’t hold a candle to Mr. X’s…to Mr. X. She couldn’t wait for tonight. One corner of her mind worried about whether the luscious man would keep their “date.” She told it to shut up.
She’d read almost half of the first page when the door opened and her new boss came out. She popped to her feet. “Yes, sir? Do you need something?”
“Relax, Miss…uh.” He groped for her name, and she forced herself not to frown. Men never remembered her, and she was damn sick of it. He glanced at the nameplate on her desk. “Bessie.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And stop calling me sir.”
Bessie pressed her lips together and drew in a deep breath. Working for this man was going to be even harder than she’d feared. “Mr. Ferguson then?”
“Reece. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
Her heart thumped. Hard. Mr. X, think about Mr. X. It didn’t do any good. Mr. Ferguson…Reece…broadcast sex from every gorgeous pore of that big…wide-shouldered…buff…beautiful body. And after last night, she was receiving the message loud and clear. She swallowed and looked down at her feet.
“Is that a problem, Bessie?”
“Oh no, sir. I mean, no, Reece. That’s just fine. And I don’t mind working overtime, really, and…” Stop babbling. Just shut the fuck up. And don’t drool all over the poor man. She clamped her mouth shut to stop the inane flow.
When she peeked up at him, she saw that he had tilted his head to one side and looked down at her as though she were some kind of lab specimen. “Are you all right, Bessie?”
“Oh yes, sir. I mean, yes, Reece. If you don’t need anything right now, I’ll just finish looking over the monthly financial report and bring it in to you.”
“Good. That’s one thing I came out to ask you about. I also want to see everything you have on this mess with Hendricks. Get me that right away, please.”
He turned on his heel and went back into his office without giving her time to answer. The door closed firmly behind him.
Help. Could he tell I was about to leap on him? Bessie had never wanted to touch a man that much before. Well, before last night. Maybe he could tell. She’d never be able to look him in the face again. She’d be disgraced. He’d fire her.
Get a grip, Bessie Edna. Just get a fucking grip. You’re the best admin in the company; you can do this job. Be professional. He’ll think he was wrong if you don’t do anything out of line ever again.
After all, she had motivation. Really strong motivation.
Without her job, she couldn’t afford to go to Milady’s Pleasure. These visits would soon start taking a bite out of her savings. But then, what had she been saving for?
And without these visits, she’d never see Mr. X again.
* * * *
Reece accepted the folder his admin handed him without rising from his desk. “Here you are, Reece,” she said with a cool, professional look. “Do you need anything else?”
He shook his head. “Not now. I’ll buzz you if I do.”
Her answering smile was so brief as to be beyond unemotional. She left his office, closing the door behind her and leaving him to wonder if he’d imagined the heat in her face, her posture when he’d talked to her beside her desk.
Whatever. He’d deal with her later if she was a problem. Right now, he needed to get a grip on the lawsuit/blackmail business. He cued up some “sitting and thinking music” and settled back in his chair to begin reading.
No wonder my predecessor got fired. Briefly he wondered if the guy was Hendricks’s brother-in-law, or owed the guy for his mortgage, or what. If he could pull this chestnut out of the fire, Uncle Joe would owe him the company, not just a partnership.
He leaned back, closed his eyes, and started thinking. An hour later, he decided he had only one option. And he didn’t like it. While he chewed on the idea, his phone rang.
Damn. I should have told her to hold calls. “What,” he snarled into the phone.
“Your mother is on line one, s—Reece. I can tell her you’re busy, if you like.”
“No, put her through, please, Bessie. And get legal up here in half an hour. There must be a conference room we can use.”
“Yes, s—Reece.”
Reece swallowed a smile. She’d learn eventually. In the meantime, he’d answer to “s—Reece.”
His call clicked through. “Hey, Mom, when did you get to town?” he said with a smile he knew she’d hear in his voice. He actually liked his mother. Enjoyed talking with her. And maybe she’d have some input to his current dilemma. She was on the board of directors and had often known more about the US operations than he did.
Not this time.
“Not till tomorrow. How’s the job?”
Reece told her about Joe’s request.
“He did what?” she screeched.
When she’d stopped shouting, Reece said, “He fucked up.”
“If you mean your uncle, well, yeah, he did.” After a pause, she added, “You know, I’ve always liked your father’s brother, but sometimes he can be a real ass.”
“No argument there.” After a moment of finger tapping, Reece said, “I can only see one way out of this mess.” He told her what he’d come up with. “I’ll get the attorneys up here as soon as we get off the phone and see what they have to say. But Hendricks is toast. He has to be out of here as of today.”
“I agree. Nice to see you taking the reins and getting the horse moving, honey. It’s clear that you’re doing your usual spectacular job. But really I just called to say ‘Welcome back to the States’ and to see how you like Bessie.”
“Like Bessie? What do you know about Bessie?”
“I picked her out for you,” his mother said. “I know how silly—I mean, what a stickler your uncle is about his ‘no fraternization’ rule, and I thought Bessie was the most…personally uninteresting woman on the whole campus. Also, she’s very good at her job.”
If he’d been standing, that would have rocked him back on his heels. If looks could do more than just look, she’d have jumped him right there in the outer office. “Your precious Bessie,” he began.
“Not mine. Yours.”
“No way, Mom. No fucking way. She’s so subservient I could use her for a doormat.” When she wasn’t looking like she’d eat him alive. “Except the way she eyed me when she thought I wasn’t looking. I don’t
know if Uncle Joe would fire her or me, but I think she had fraternization on her mind.”
“I can’t believe that. Bessie Edna is the most old-fashioned good girl you’ve ever imagined. I don’t think her mother ever even let her date. The old bat died a couple of years ago, but Bessie hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Well, she must have made up for lost time somewhere, judging by the way she looked at me.”
“Not Bessie,” his mother said with certainty. “She’s a good girl through and through.”
“Whatever you say, Mom. Hey, I need to get on with the new broom business here. Talk to you later.”
Chapter Four
After dinner, Reece stood in the shower and tried to let the events of the day wash away down the drain. Hendricks had been a twit, of course, still shouting threats as he’d been escorted from the building. But the attorneys had approved Reece’s handling of the mess, and he’d given the PR manager a heads-up on the statement the company needed to have ready. There would be a lot of ugly gossip, which would have his uncle purple-faced and screaming more threats, but Ferguson Inc. would come away with the image of Taking Responsibility for Our Mistakes. He hoped.
At least Bessie hadn’t jumped him in the hallway, so the day had ended as well as possible.
Unfortunately, his mother’s comments about Bessie being such a good girl, the unbridled lust he’d seen in her eyes, and the way her skirt hiked up when she took notes to the meeting had combined to grab his attention.
As if the day hadn’t been enough, he had that “date” with his Sex Club Mystery Woman. After the fiasco of last night, he figured he owed her this evening, but he’d have to lie there on whatever Lafcadio dreamed up, probably tied up again—he shuddered—and let her touch him.
He leaned his forehead against the chill of the tile. He’d be hooded again, lying there helpless, waiting for whatever she chose to do. So not his thing. He couldn’t do it. He had to do it. And part of him wanted to do it.
Did she want him to come all over her again? He could hardly believe he’d done that last night. But that had been the product of the sex-deprived last six months of his stay in England. He probably couldn’t do that again. Right. Who was he kidding? It wouldn’t take much more than a whiff of that raspberry perfume, or a few minutes of concentrating on Bessie’s rising hemline, to have him ready for action. Speaking of which…
