His weakness is in operations. Which is where I come in. It’s my strength. I thrive on it. We’ll make an unstoppable team if he lets me. In the past four days I’ve compiled a list of projects, ranking them in order of priority and potential impact, presenting them to Brandon at the end of the day as we recap.
All my instincts about Brandon have proven correct. He’s a shrewd and cunning businessman. Calculating, exacting and clearly a natural leader. Everyone who works for him admires him, respects him and is thankful for the pleasure of working for him. Of course, every single woman in the place wants him, but he appears to ignore the flattery and bids for attention.
As for us, well, we’ve effectively ignored the elephant in the room. We discuss business, keep it professional, but there is an undercurrent of tension and brewing lust that is stretched too tight. We stay on topic, but our eyes catch and hold too long to be polite, and when silence falls, our chemistry becomes a live, palpable thing.
I don’t know when we’ll snap, but it’s coming.
Thankfully, I’m currently busy as hell in preparation for tonight’s party. The club is full of activity as they change certain aspects of The Lair from upscale nightclub to upscale nightclub hosting a sex party. I’d wanted to gain the confidence of the people working under me, to make sure they knew I was right there with them, so I’d dug in, helping with anything that needed done, even if that included hauling ice buckets and taking out trash.
It was exhausting and rewarding, but best of all it gave me no time to think about the evening to come and what would happen here tonight. And for that I was thankful.
I wiped my hands on the back of my jeans and picked up my clipboard to review the liquor inventory, given to me by the bar manager, Reggie. A tall, handsome black man, with close-cropped dark hair and built like former military, who’s become my closest ally. We’d taken an instant liking to each other and he’s been my right-hand man as I’ve worked my way through the inner workings of The Lair and Brandon’s underground club, open only a few times a week.
Everything looks in order, and as far as I can tell there are no trouble spots.
“Veronica.” Brandon’s voice behind me has my shoulders straightening.
I turn to face him. I hadn’t seen him all day and the sight of him makes my throat go dry. He’s wearing jeans. Brandon in a tux is mouthwatering, in a suit, commanding, and in business casual clothes far too distracting for comfort.
But in jeans Brandon should be outlawed.
My knees actually go a bit weak. He’s wearing a heather-gray T-shirt that stretches over his broad shoulders and clings to powerful biceps that were so cut and defined my mouth watered.
Oh sweet Jesus.
Built narrow, his lean hips and flat stomach and long legs are made for—
“Are you quite done?” His voice is wry and amused.
Shit. My gaze snaps to his face and heat crawls up my neck as I realize I’ve been practically raping him with my eyes. I brush a hand over my ponytail, shrugging.
“I trust you remember Chad.” He shifts his attention, and to my horror I realize Ruby’s fiancé is standing right next to him.
Chad’s blue eyes dance as he grins at me. I’m almost one hundred percent certain he’s attempting to repress his laughter. He winks. “I’ll try not to be insulted you didn’t see me standing here.”
My spine straightens and my chin tilts. I refuse to be embarrassed I’d been caught gaping at my boss. It’s not like Chad didn’t see us interact all weekend. He knows as well as anyone there is something going on with Brandon and me. “Hey, Chad, it’s great to see you again.”
Brandon smiles at me, his dimples flashing. “Chad stopped by to discuss business I thought you might be able to help us with. We want to go in on a renovation property together and I thought with your connections it would be a good idea for the three of us to sit down next week and discuss what we’re looking for.”
My family has deep connections in Chicago real estate so this interests me. I nod. “That sounds great.”
Chad covertly assesses me. “We’ve been looking for something for the last nine months but haven’t been able to find what we want. Do you think you’ll be able to help?”
“I’m sure once we sit down and go over what you’re looking for, if it exists, I know people who can find it. If you give me some times, I’ll have Marisa set up a meeting.” The admin still hadn’t warmed up to me because she wants Brandon all to herself. I’m positive she’s harboring nightly boss/secretary fantasies.
Brandon’s gaze flickers over me but his expression remains impassive. “I thought we could meet Chad for a long lunch on Tuesday.”
“Perfect.” I shift my attention back to Chad. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” he says.
Brandon raises a brow at me. “Don’t forget Ruby is new to the sex party scene as well, so you two will be able to commiserate.”
Chad chuckles. “Ruby’s excited you’ll be here. She’s been desperate to meet anyone who—as she says—doesn’t act like it’s totally normal to be spread out on a table in front of a bunch of people.”
Brandon outright laughs. “I do love watching her eyes grow wide with horror.”
Under my white T-shirt, emblazoned with The Lair’s logo, my nipples pull tight. Suddenly his choice of white doesn’t strike me as odd since he’s clearly a deviant.
Brandon’s gaze skims over me, pausing at my breasts but he doesn’t speak.
“Me too,” Chad says, smiling before turning his devious nature on me. “Make sure you come by at a time that’s most embarrassing for her.”
Playing it cool, I laugh and shake my head. And to think, he looks so all American.
My gaze catches Brandon’s and not for the first time I wonder what tonight will bring, and what exactly I’ve gotten myself into.
I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.
* * *
Brandon
Chad and I are back in my office, settled around my seating area before he mentions Veronica.
He cocks a brow. “You two are about five seconds from snapping, you know that, right?”
I play it cool. “She’s my employee.”
Veronica in a pair of jeans, The Lair’s T-shirt, a ponytail, and zero makeup threw me as much as I threw her. I’ve worked hard this week to build the wall of professionalism between us, but Christ, I want her. I didn’t miss her hard nipples at the mention of spread-out girls. Nor did I miss the hungry expression on her face as she practically ate me alive. Chad’s right, no matter how hard I try, we are always about five seconds away from disaster.
Chad laughs. “You’re smitten.”
“I’m not smitten.” The words sound ground out, like broken glass.
Smitten is not the word I’d use to describe my desire for her. Smitten is cute. Manageable. Controllable. None of which I feel.
“Oh no?” Chad tilts his head. “Are you sure about that?”
“She’s my employee.” It bears repeating. If only to remind myself.
Chad’s eyes narrow as he studies me. He’s a more recent member of our group, but has become so ingrained he’s no longer an outsider. In fact, I now count him as one of my closest friends. Out of us, he’s the most mellow and understated, with Leo and I being the most brutal, and Michael falling somewhere in the middle.
He says in a smooth voice, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” I look away and rub my eyes, shaking my head. The words spill out before I can rein them back in. “I fucking want her.”
“Yeah. That’s clear.” He shrugs. “At least it’s mutual.”
“I’m not sure that’s better.” While we’ve been good about maintaining our distance, we’re like a ticking bomb waiting to detonate. I don’t know how much longer I can resist her.
“You have a point.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “It’s killing you that you can’t control it, huh?”
I snap my head in
his direction. “What does that mean?”
He laughs. “I pay attention. I see how you operate. You like to keep your relationship cool and borderline detached. I’ve never even seen you break a sweat with a girl.” He points to the closed door to my office. “That girl makes you sweat and you don’t like it.”
I frown. He’s right. I don’t even keep one girl at a time. I’m always honest and upfront about it, but I make it very clear I’m not a one-woman kind of guy. If a woman isn’t okay with that, I let her walk away and don’t think twice about it. If she agrees, I’m attentive, and I do everything a good dominant should, but I’m always removed somehow. It’s like I have a thick layer of ice around me I don’t let her penetrate. I watch her respond to me, to what I do to her, at a distance.
In thirty seconds Chad has pinpointed what makes me so on edge about Veronica. I can’t say no to her.
The night I met her, I didn’t want her on that balcony. She stayed, captivating me so I’d thought of her the next day.
I didn’t want to interview her and she wore me down until I did.
I didn’t want to hire her, and I hired her anyway.
I told myself not to kiss her, I did.
I haven’t touched another woman since I met her.
I don’t want to want her and I can’t stop.
She’s thwarting me at every turn.
Even in my desire for her, she’s twisting me up. It’s not only that I want to sleep with her. It’s that I want to crawl inside her and own her. I want to enslave her. I want to take her until I’m imprinted on her fucking DNA. When she looks at me with that needy, hungry look, practically begging me to handle her, it’s taking every ounce of willpower I have not to give in.
I blow out a hard breath and realize Chad is watching me. I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to talk.
The guy should have been a therapist instead of a software developer.
I wave my hand. “It will be fine.”
Chad nods. “At least she’s submissive.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” All my normal instincts are clouded by my insatiable lust for her, so much so, I have no idea what to think.
“She might not be your normal type, but she’s still got the signs,” Chad says, as though it’s perfectly clear. “You know every time she sees it, witnesses it as a bystander, her need for you to take control is going to grow.”
It’s what I want. To the point of distraction. Obsession. I pull out my old standby logic. “So what? I should break my rules for her?”
He shrugs. “Yeah.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He flashes a smile. “I bet she’s feisty as hell.”
I can’t even think about it. “Shut the fuck up.”
“I’m banking she’s got a bratty side.”
Before I can stop myself I ask, “Why do you think that?”
“It would serve you right.”
I frown, not wanting to envision breaking her of that particular trait. I’ve never been attracted to brats, but Veronica’s challenging defiance makes me so hard I hurt sometimes. I shake my head. This isn’t helpful. I cling to my stubborn rules, the plan I laid out that sure as hell isn’t working. “It doesn’t matter because it’s not going to happen.”
He laughs. “I don’t even give you a week.”
I give him my darkest, meanest look, the one I reserve to make girls shake, but it has no effect on him other than to increase his mirth. I point to the door. “You can leave now.”
* * *
Later that night the party is underway and I’m talking to my friends when Veronica comes through the door.
I turn to see her.
I lose my breath.
She looks like she’s stepped out of the sixties—like she took a picture of Brigitte Bardot at her most sexy—then compounded it by a thousand. Her dress is white—and by the sheen under the lights I know it’s latex—with a scooped neck, the dress fits her like a glove before flaring out ridiculously high on her thighs. She completed the outfit with white boots that fasten above her knees. Her hair is full and wild, and I want to tangle it in my fist while her legs wrap around my waist.
Jesus H. Christ.
I am fucked.
The crowd parts as she makes her way through the room and I have to bite back the surge of possession when men, attached and unattached, turn to watch her.
I frown when she stops to talk to Reggie, and he puts a hand on her arm. His dark skin next to her paleness is a striking contrast. They’ve become fast friends, and it irritates me, although I say nothing. He smiles at her and she beams back.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my black pants because I want to go over there and rip her away from him before saying something completely idiotic like, Don’t fucking touch her again. A thought so foreign to me I have no idea what to even make of it.
Except for sex, I’m not a man of violence.
She laughs and grins up at him.
I turn away before I do something regrettable and look into the faces of my six closest friends, all grinning at me like satisfied cats.
I should ignore this, and go on with what we were talking about, but I can’t remember the subject, and I’m so thrown off balance by how she looks I zero in on Jillian and growl. “You are going to pay for this.”
She laughs, before shrugging. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
I shoot a look at Leo. “And what do you intend to do about this?”
“Sit back and enjoy the show.” Leo slides his arm around his wife and kisses her on the temple. “You did good, baby.”
I grit my teeth.
Michael gives me a cocky grin I kind of want to punch off his face. “I’ve been waiting to see this since the day we met in college.”
Next to him Layla, looking as gorgeous as ever in a pink dress, presses her lips together, trying to contain her amusement. Her blue eyes sparkle when she says, “We dressed her to match us.”
I open my mouth, to say god knows what, but Jillian points. “She’s coming this way.”
I whip back around, scowling. Veronica’s completed her ode to the sixties look with elaborate cat eyes that make their honey-brown color practically glow.
Our gazes lock.
She falters a bit.
I can only imagine my expression but I can’t seem to work it into an appropriate mask of passivity.
Per usual, she keeps on coming and her shoulders straighten, pushing back. I recognize that look. The defiance. The—I don’t care how you’re looking at me; you’re not stopping me—expression.
It makes me hard. The tension, growing and building throughout the week, threatens to choke me. My hands clench.
When she’s standing in front of me, and I look down at her, a fierce visceral lust running hot and dangerous in my veins.
“Brandon.” My name quivers on her lips.
Good. It should.
Because I want to make her hurt until she comes screaming my name like I’m her fucking god.
13
Veronica
Brandon stands there, glaring at me like I murdered kittens.
He’s not happy. But I don’t know why, I let Jillian pick out my outfit, and she said it was perfect. It had struck me as having a sixties vibe, so while I got ready I decided to pretend I was going to a Halloween party.
All things considering, I thought I looked good.
I glance around the room. I don’t appear out of place, in fact, my outfit is conservative next to the other guests. I study the three women sitting around the lush, leather chat area with their significant others. I don’t look like I’ve made a misstep, although damn, they are all gorgeous.
Since Brandon’s said nothing, and is still scowling at me, I decide to ignore him. I smile at the table. “Hi. Are you all having a good time so far?”
Next to me, Brandon’s body grows even more rigid.
Jillian, stunning in her little red dress, sitting next to her dange
rous-looking husband, glances at Brandon, then back at me. “So far, so good.” She waves a hand over me. “And holy shit, girl, you look fantastic.”
I smooth my hand down my stomach. I’ve never worn a latex dress before. I didn’t think I’d like it. I was wrong. “Thanks. So do you.” I wave at her husband. “Hi, Leo. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Brandon still says nothing, unless you count the anger rolling off him. Luckily I was born into a world where social necessities are second nature to me. I turn toward Chad and Ruby, he’s casually running his finger up and down her bare arm. She’s wearing a strapless black latex corset, a short skirt and thigh-high tights with black boots. She’s striking and, and quite a contrast to Chad’s all-American look, but sitting together, so close they may be melded together, they fit. I smile and hold out my hand to her. “You look awesome.”
She winks at me. “Thanks.”
I smile at her fiancé. “Hey, Chad.”
“Veronica.” He nods, cups Ruby’s shoulder then whispers something in her ear that has a healthy flush rise to her cheekbones.
I look back at Brandon to see if perhaps he’s calmed down. He narrows his eyes and his jaw clenches.
I guess not. Unable to help myself, I shoot him a dark glare before plastering a smile on my lips and turning to the last couple. Layla and Michael are a sight to behold. As any other time I’ve seen them, as a couple they are formidable, with an almost untouchable quality.
And then Layla grins at me, and the otherworldly quality disappears and they look human.
I incline my head. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”
“You too,” Layla says.
Michael stands up. I’ve forgotten how tall he is. I feel tiny and small next to him. He nods. “Veronica.”
I meet his gaze and my lashes flutter a bit. I swallow hard. He’s very intimidating. He’s studying me, looking for god knows what but his unusual hazel eyes feel like they are burning into my very soul.
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