The Spy Ring (Cake Love Book 4)

by Elizabeth Lynx

  “Don’t worry about Mr. Mimir, Drake. I reminded him how much better you are for the company than Payne. He seemed to agree that you were an asset but refused my recommendation to fire Payne.” I shook my head.

  Morgana pushed some of her red hair behind her ear as she signed the paperwork. She tilted her head up to me with that deer-in-headlights look she got sometimes.

  “Sunshine?”

  I bent over my desk and snatched the paperwork back before hiding it in a drawer. “Never mind about any of that. Only Mr. Mimir needs to read that part. So, I think we are done here. Let’s get you settled back into your desk.”

  She grabbed her bag and flung it over her shoulder. As we passed by the window in my office, I noticed our reflection. How opposite we appeared. Morgana was short, with thick, long red hair, and an hourglass figure times ten. Her clothes, while defined as office wear, were so tight I could sometimes make out the lace pattern of her panties.

  I was tall and thin. No shape. I didn’t even think a flag pole would be jealous of my figure. My clothes, well, they were office wear too. But I liked to be comfortable, have things loose on me. Always buying my clothes one size larger. The last thing I was here to do was attract men, so why would I wear something that could even risk that?

  I am beginning to realize why I was almost invisible to Edgar.

  Once we passed the elevators and arrived at Morgana’s desk, I pointed at the clock. “It’s ten forty-five, almost time for the Brooks Bomb. I told Payne on Friday that this would be your first day back but he had meetings out of the office all morning.”

  I turned to head back to my office but stopped as Morgana yelled out for me. “Maybe I’ll take an early lunch. You up for it?”

  I was about to tell her no, that I had some work that needed to get done when the elevator doors opened and out walked the last person I wanted to see, ever, Edgar.

  Then I would be forced to talk to him about the new hire for his department. Something easily done via email. Instead of face-to-face where I would have to try desperately to control my hormones. It was hard to not turn into a giggling mess with his deep voice acting like a Siren song. I always tried to be aloof, but I had a feeling he didn’t care anyway.

  Before he saw me, I turned back toward Morgana and nodded my head. “Sounds great.”

  “Okay, let’s go. Oh wait, is that Edgar? Hey, Edgar.”

  I was surprised by how fast Morgana could move considering her height. She was like a red blur blazing past me and before I knew it, she had Edgar deep in conversation. His perfectly sculpted blond hair just brushed the tops of his ears as he ran his fingers through them.

  He had long hair when I first started to work here, but last year he cut it. I appreciated both styles, but I missed his long hair. Something about it made me want to run my fingers through it, fist it in my fingers, and scream “mine” to anyone who passed.

  I sounded barbaric. And sad. Mostly sad.

  Holding my ground, I refused to move closer, not on principle because what was I arguing about? Lunch? No, I was hungry, but I lacked the strength to resist Edgar’s charm. Especially when he smiled and those dimples appeared.

  Dimples of sin I called them. I wanted to lick them so much.

  “Hey, Evaleen, Edgar is going to join us for lunch.” Morgana waved me over with happiness radiating out of her pores. I wish I could glow with happiness. The only time I glowed was after I had danced a few songs at a club. Also, my makeup usually melted by then, and my pit stains were large enough by that point that tadpoles had been known to form, even when I wore a tank top.

  What I’m saying was I got swamp pits but, hey, I glowed.

  Edgar’s dimples were on full debauchery mode. That was, until he saw me. I guess Morgana left that part out when she invited him to lunch. He probably would have declined the offer if he knew I would be there.

  “Dreary Evaleen Bechmann? No, thank you,” he’d say. I was always surprised when he knew my name considering how unhappy he appeared around me.

  It wasn’t just his dwindling smile but how his eyes gazed at anything but me. Like he was trying to find an escape from the worst thing ever, me.

  “Great.” I said through gritted teeth.

  It wasn’t great. It especially wasn’t wonderful when Morgana conveniently stood by the elevator buttons when we were moving down to the bottom floor, forcing Edgar and me to stand next to each other. I could smell his cologne.

  His mouthwatering, manly man scent.

  I took deep breaths, not because I was about to hyperventilate (but that was an idea to get out of this lunch), but because I wanted to inhale all of him.

  My mouth watered and I knew my neck was red without even glancing into the reflection of the metal elevator doors.

  I turned my head to face the wall and tried to fill my lungs with non-sex god air, but it wasn’t working. Perhaps if I scooted toward the wall, inching farther away from him, I wouldn’t want to lick him so much?

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to make that decision as the elevator dinged and opened on the ground floor. Cool, platonic air breezed around me and I began to feel human again.

  That was until he placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me out of the elevator, causing my lady parts to spasm uncontrollably. I think they were having a seizure from too much hotness.

  I coughed. Actually, I tried to suppress an eruption of humiliating giggles that would have embarrassed twelve-year-old girls, with a cough.

  It worked. He dropped his hand and the lower half of my body went into a deep depression. The top half of my body felt relief tinged with bitterness.

  The chill of the Chicago air solidified me. What if I’m not sexy or beautiful enough for him to notice like he did every other woman he came in contact with? He slept around anyway. Even if he did seduce me, I would just end up heartbroken anyway.

  “Here we are. Chuck’s Sausage Shack. I am so thankful I can get a good sausage right next door anytime I want.” Morgana smiled as she held the door for us.

  “I sure do love to suck on tubular meat during my breaks at work,” I said without hesitation.

  That time I coughed for real. I hadn’t meant for that to come out of my mouth. It was there in my head and then my mouth decided it was the perfect time to give it a voice. I blame Morgana. Who says they are thankful to get good sausage? She was practically begging me to embarrass myself like that.

  “Let’s hope,” Edgar said. My eyes narrowed at him but he had turned from me.

  Cool as always. Nothing fazed him, not even a frumpy coworker making blatant and not very good penis jokes.

  He was just casually glancing around the place scoping out a table.

  “Crap. Looks like I got to head back to work. I just got a text from Mr. Payne telling me he needs to meet with me since it’s my first day back. Sorry.” Morgana frowned, shoving her phone back into her purse and pushing out the door.

  After watching the door close, I turned to Edgar. He was staring at me, grimacing.

  “Look, if you have something to do we can just order food to go,” I said, trying to offer him a way out. It was obvious back at the office he was only agreeing to lunch because he thought it would be him and Morgana. I’m not blind. Morgana was gorgeous and sexy and exactly what a player like Edgar would be into. I think it’s a little shitty that he would go after someone his best friend, Payne, was obviously into, but that was none of my business.

  Now we can order food for lunch since we are already here and then go our separate ways.

  Edgar smirked. His dimples deepening as his gaze drifted languidly to my lips. “Now why would I miss out on the chance of watching you suck on some tubular meat?”

  My lady parts were seizing again.

  Want to read more of The Attraction File? Just click HERE. Now on Kindle Unlimited.

  PEEK INSIDE: ONE WILD RIDE

  Here is a chapter from Aria Dixon & Alex Hawthorne’s story, One Wild Ride. Now on Kindle Unlimi
ted.

  ***

  Alexander

  “Congratulations, Mr. Hawthorne, you are the proud owner of the Haute Tower at 26 East Lake Street in Chicago Illinois,” the man in the gray, oversized suit said as he sat across the conference table from me.

  I stared at him in disbelief. How did I not know this? My lawyer never said a word to me. When Aria told me last Tuesday I didn’t believe her. I mentioned wanting time to consider her sketches for the mural and told her I would call her when I was ready.

  I spent the week since making phone calls and researching what I could. Most everyone gave me the run around when I asked them about the building. I finally told my lawyer he would be fired if he didn’t tell me the truth. He repeated over and over again that he needed to see the lease to verify if anything had been changed.

  So, I faxed it to him. When he called back, he told me that nothing had changed and my mother still owned the building but he did notice a small typo that might have thrown me off. Other than that, nothing had changed.

  “Are you sure it’s not a typo?” I asked leaning forward, resting my elbows on the smooth wooden table. The windows behind the man were dark and I caught my reflection in the glass. It looked like I hadn’t slept in days. Probably because I hadn’t.

  Between my mother giving in so easily with the mural and the lease stating I owned the tower, my world felt upside down. Causing old issues to rear their controlling head. Aria wasn’t far off when she stated I was a crazy recluse.

  The door opened and a petite woman with short black hair walked in. She stared at me and something about her seemed familiar. She placed a water bottle in front of me and Mr. Reed.

  “Thank you, Grace.” He smiled up at her but her eyes were glued to me.

  She scurried out before I could ask if I knew her. I shook my head and turned back to Mr. Reed.

  “No, I don’t see any typos. Your name is repeated not just in this paragraph, which states ownership, but in several other points throughout this contract. It’s actually an Emma Hawthorne that leases the penthouse from you.”

  My mother.

  “How long have I owned it? Can you tell if this is a recent change?”

  He brought the paper close to his face and lifted his glasses. “The last change to this lease was dated five years ago. Before that I wouldn’t know and would have to see the previous documents to answer further.”

  She lied to me. My mother has been lying all this time. I knew she was cruel and controlling and even manipulated my image to the public, but I thought she was at least honest with me about my inheritance. Based on how little my father wanted to do with me I figured she was right when she said he left me almost nothing.

  “If you have no further questions, Mr. Hawthorne, it’s after hours here at Mimir and I would like to go home to my wife for dinner.” Mr. Reed, the property lawyer for the online retail giant, Mimir, pushed the contract back to me as I waved for him to go.

  “I’ll let your wife know we are done in here,” he said as he made his way out of the room.

  I was still in too much shock to correct his marital views about Aria.

  After a few moments, there was movement from the door behind me. “Well, how did it go? Is that your second penis or not?” Aria said as her sweet scent drifted around and she took a seat next to me.

  “Huh?” I said as I glanced over to her warm mocha eyes. I think I smiled, too.

  Even if the first few times meeting Aria were chaotic, it felt good to finally have someone I could trust to talk to. After she left last week, I picked up her sketch book, the one she scrawled her phone number on, and I picked up my phone. I wanted to hear her voice, tell her everything but one word stopped me.

  Crazy.

  Those rumors about me being a crazy recluse who pays to hang out with women, it’s all true.

  Aria wrinkled her nose causing my smile to widen. “Do you own the building?”

  She formed a circle with her hands and moved them up and down like she was giving a hand job to an abnormally large penis, “You know, phallic-shaped buildings. Ohh, yeah, I do love me some building. That’s it, baby, work my building.”

  I grabbed her wrists stopping her and glanced around to make sure her friend, Evaleen, the one who let us use Mimir’s lawyer and conference room, didn’t walk in.

  “Jesus, Aria. What are you, a teenager?”

  “No, I’m twenty-nine but in my heart, I’m a horny eighteen-year-old.” She winked at me.

  My cock went hard instantly. The way she was so casual and free with sex and her artistic talent . . . she made me want to do things to her body I only fantasized about. Things that she might not like.

  I cleared my throat, dropping her wrists. “Yes, I own the building.”

  She jumped up from the chair and threw her arms open. “That’s wonderful, Alex! Now you can do whatever changes you want.”

  Aria stood there, her arms still wide and I knew she wanted to give me a hug. I wanted to do that too, but something stopped me. The same thing that stopped me from going up to her in that gallery when I first noticed her years ago.

  I nodded. “Yes, I can pick one of your drawings now. Maybe even tear down the wall and make the room bigger.”

  My mind raced with ideas. I felt like a child let loose in an amusement park with no one there. Any ride free to enjoy but which to pick first? My gaze fell to her breasts.

  “So, no hug then?” Aria’s lips ticked up.

  “We should keep this professional. How we started off meeting wasn’t right. I want to keep things on track,” I said as I focused on gathering the paperwork.

  I was such a liar. Of course, I wanted to hug her. I wanted to do lots of things to her, but if she ever found out the truth about me I know I would lose her forever. I’d rather have Aria for a short time in my life than not at all.

  “Fair enough. Let’s at least shake on it.”

  Aria pushed her hand out. Setting the papers down, I turned in my seat but didn’t stand. Staring at her fingers my imagination went wild. Thoughts of those digits pressing into me, pulling and using me for their pleasure.

  Just shaking her hand was a summit to climb but I had to do it. She already thought I was odd being a recluse. I didn’t want to add to it by being too afraid to touch her.

  “Of course.” I slid my fingers across her palm. Her skin as smooth and warm as I remembered.

  Maybe even softer than before. I wondered if I firmed my grip, would she give?

  “There, now was that so hard?” I noticed her eyes dip to where I actually was hard.

  She knew. Aria wasn’t stupid, she could tell I wanted her. That would mean one thing. She was going to try. Aria was going to give. Give me what she knew I wanted.

  I shook my head, unable to form words.

  She released my grip but moved both hands to cup my palm, tickling my wrist with her fingers.

  “Wow, you have such smooth skin, Alex.”

  It hurt. My cock was in pain.

  “Why are you doing this, Aria?” I said, my voice rough.

  “Because I want you, Alex. It’s that simple. When two people are attracted to each other, they should be together. They fuck. Get it out of their system or keep fucking, but they do something. To pretend there is no attraction because of some societal pressure is ridiculous. This isn’t the nineteenth century.”

  Her words from before popped into my head—how people only wanted me for my money and looks. Was she like that? My mother warned me that’s how women were. How she tried to protect me by making sure I met with the right kind of woman.

  Which was never the right kind. They were the bought kind.

  I pulled my hand away. “So what if I’m attracted to you. Yes, Aria, I think you’re beautiful. I could fill a thousand canvases with the curves and shades of your eyes. And your lips, the dips and bends. How they plump and swell after you’ve bitten them while deep in thought. I’d use oils and brush with delicate strokes before smearing the
color with my fingers.”

  Pushing the chair away as I stood, not caring my hard-on was clearly visible. She was pushing me and it was working. The words coming out of my mouth I never spoke to anyone.

  “But that’s cheap, isn’t it? Maybe you like cheap.” I inched closer forcing her up against the table. “Do you like it cheap, Aria? Pretty words about a pretty face you can’t help but wear.”

  Her eyes fluttered as she grasped the edge of the table to hold herself up. “Maybe I do.”

  Aria tried to push back, stand taller, and it was cute and sexy and I wanted to laugh.

  “But I have money. You pointed that out many times. It’s the reason we’re here, in this room. Why would I want to throw cheap things at you when I could give you anything you’ve ever dreamed of? Isn’t that what you want from me? The wild ride. The one that takes your breath away and shines like gold.”

  Her chest rose and fell with a quickened pace the more I spoke. I shouldn’t have said all that. But as much as I wanted her, as much as she thought she wanted me, I would never be used by a woman again.

  “Yes,” Aria whispered.

  I leaned forward, ghosting the words across her neck. “As much as I want to give you the ride of your life, it’s your talent that does it for me. It gets me hard and makes me weak. I want to see that gift when I wake in the morning and just as I drift to sleep at night. So, words are cheap and sex is primal, but your art is my life.”

  I don’t know how I did it, but I turned and walked to the door. Before I opened it, I turned back to find her still leaning against the table, her cheeks flushed.

  “I’ll take you home. I want you rested and ready tomorrow when you bring your gift to life in my bedroom.”

  Want to read more of One Wild Ride? Just click HERE. Now on Kindle Unlimited.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Elizabeth Lynx was a printer. She was also a graphic designer, photographer, actress, comedic improviser, merchandiser, and now adding author to that extensive list of professions.