Aiden
When I walk into the apartment, she's sitting there in the dark, staring into an empty fireplace, arms folded across her chest. She's dressed down from the sexy librarian look to be the girl next door again, and it's hard not to marvel at how pretty she is. Her scowl pains me, digging at me as I cross the room.
"Did the boys do their homework?"
"Dining table," she says, sparing me only two words.
I set my briefcase on the chair and flip through Tim's papers, then Jason’s. I keep flipping. He must have been at this for hours, and she's…she's started teaching him some higher algebra. It's all in his handwriting. He's taken to it quickly. A year at the most expensive school in the city, and my son has barely scratched the surface of long division, months behind his peers who were studying algebra by the end of the year.
Now he does it all in one night.
"I should arrange for him to take a test," I say. "Test out of the summer school program."
"No," she says, her voice sharp.
There it is again, that sudden burst of initiative.
"Why?"
"If you let him get away with this, he'll keep doing it again. He can't learn that he can be smart without applying himself and get away with anything. That's a bad lesson for him to come away from this with. You have to talk to him and explain that he can't have his electronics back, and he's still going to summer school. He can't just blaze through the papers in one night. He has to do them on time, when he's told to."
She blazes through her little speech all without looking at me, her voice a flat monotone.
"Lilah, I'm sorry."
She glances back, then turns away. "For what?"
I take a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. "I shouldn't have done what I did."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Are you going to make me say it?" he says.
"I shouldn't have to, and do you really think it will make me feel better when you say you're sorry for kissing me, like it was something wrong?"
I frown. "I didn’t mean it that way. I was taking advantage of you, Lilah."
"I don't feel taken advantage of."
"There are too many reasons why we can't pursue this."
She bolts to her feet. "Did you know that was my first kiss?"
I flinch. "I didn't realize… No, that's not true. I didn't acknowledge it. I knew it, but I didn't let myself know it."
She blinks. "It was good. I liked it. So that made it even worse when you just yanked away from me and dumped me into a car to shuffle me off to watch your kids. I know we've just met, but I thought there was a connection."
"Just because there's a connection doesn't mean we have to act on it. Be rational, Lilah. If I—"
"Rational. You sound just like my dad," she blurts out, and storms off.
Her words are like a lance through my chest. It almost shoves me into the couch. I sink back, a ball of ice forming in my belly. The world goes fuzzy. I can't keep my eyes focused.
My teeth start to grit.
I may work with her father, but I am nothing like him. She had no right to say that. I work hard to make all this mean something.
I look around the empty room and wonder if it even does.
My feet carry me to her. I knock on the door. It swings open, and I find her packing her bags.
"Stay," I say.
Lilah
"Why should I? You've done nothing but mock me since I got here. Your nanny? Nanny? Then you make me think maybe you had an ulterior motive, and you know what? Good! I liked it! Then you pull this on me."
All my anger comes boiling out, and I catch it between my teeth to spit it at him with every word. "Say what you came to say."
"You're too young."
I go from bristling to fuming. I thought I was angry before, but my heart just exploded into flames, and I can feel the fire in my veins. I would rise off the floor if I didn't stop myself.
Aiden raises his hands, almost in surrender. "Hear me out. If anyone saw us or knew that I'd…taken an interest in you, the optics would be very bad."
"The optics? Optics? Are you kidding me?"
"It's not just about how young you are, it's about how old I am."
"You're not old! For God's sake, you could grate cheese on your abs."
He glances down for a brief instant, scowling.
Aiden swings the door closed.
"The children might hear us."
I plant my feet and fold my arms.
"I'm leaving," I tell him. "I'm packing my stuff, and I'm out of here. I'm not staying."
"Why not? The boys like you, and I can find real work for you at the company if that's what you want—"
"It's not," I snap. "The last thing I ever want is to turn into my father. Or you. Optics. Optics!"
I grab my suitcases, one in each hand, and head for the door.
Aiden hooks his arm around my waist and drags me back. I yelp and drop my bags, and before I know it he has me against the wall, pinning my wrists beside my head.
His breath tickles my lips. The weight of him presses me against the wall.
"What is it about you?" he asks. I'm not sure he's asking me. Maybe himself.
He leans into kiss me, and I squirm away, turning my head.
"Oh, no you don't," I tell him. "You think you can throw me for a loop like that and just kiss it away like it's nothing, you can't."
Actually he can, which is why I can't let him. If we lock lips again I'll forget everything that's happened today. If he lets my hands loose I'll be throwing my pants to the floor. He sniffs me, and I wonder if he can smell it on me. My stomach fluttering, the heat in my veins twisting between anger and need. He makes me feel something I've never even known before, didn't believe was real.
He presses closer, and my head spins. That's his… He's hard. He's released my hands, and I didn't even realize it. Muscular power trembles in his touch as he brushes my sides with his fingers while touching his lips to the curve of my jaw and my throat.
"I want you," he says, the words formed from a low rumble in his chest.
I close my eyes. "Prove it. Stop."
He hesitates for a delicious moment heavy with potential, and then steps back.
"You're staying here," he says. It’s almost a growl, and the thrum of his voice makes my chest vibrate.
I peel myself off the wall and squirm my legs together. I don't know what shames me more, that I was a heartbeat and a taste of his tongue from forgiving him, or that I enjoyed being manhandled like that.
I stand to my full, unimpressive height and lock my arms across my chest.
"I'll give you a chance, but you're wrong if you think I'm easy. I don't fuck on the first cheesesteak."
"I want you," he says, a throaty growl that almost has me blurting out, in reply, "Okay."
"Show me what that means."
"You want to see what it means?" he says, stepping close enough to cup my sides, along my ribs. "Do I strike you as a man that believes in small gestures?"
"I don't think anything about you is small." I smirk, jabbing his chest with my finger.
"No one can know," he says.
"If you're ashamed of me, you can't really want me."
"I'm not ashamed of you. I just don't want you to have to suffer accusations and judgments. I've been with women before, you realize."
I snort. "Here I thought the boys were clones from your diabolical lab."
"It's hard. It's a public life. You had trouble walking on a sidewalk—what are you going to do when people are using drones and helicopters to take pictures of you on the beach?"
"Do you have any respect for me at all?"
"Of course."
"Then show me," I say, turning away. "You shouldn't be in here. I'm the help, remember? Can't have a scandal with you fooling around in my room."
I hate myself for the bitter tone in my voice, but Aiden's reply sounds like he's answering a challenge.
"We'll s
ee about that."
When he leaves, I wait for the door to click and rush to lock it.
I'm shoving out of my yoga pants by the time I'm on the bed. I get them halfway down and just give up, working my fingers inside me. I don't do this often, but I need some release.
I whisper his name into a pillow, choking back a cry of pleasure with every muscle in my body.
Chapter Five
Lilah
When I emerge in the morning there is a certain tension in the air—and delectable smells. A hazy moment after I open the door I recognize the fluffy, sweet scent of browning pancakes mingling with the inviting warmth of coffee and the salty, lip-licking enticement of bacon. My stomach rumbles.
I'm not alone. The boys have emerged, blinking in their pajamas. They seem shocked to find me out in the hallway and not doing the cooking.
When I step into the living room I crack a smile, but hide it before Aiden turns from the griddle to give me a curt, professional nod. He's clad in trousers and an athletic undershirt, and the sight of him sucks all the air out of my lungs.
The most subtle movement comes with magnificent flexing, thick muscles bunching on his back. I stand there and stare, watching his arms and shoulders move. He flips the pancakes with practiced ease, working scrambled eggs with his other hand.
"Come on, then," he says.
"He hasn't cooked in years," Jason says, glancing at me. "Is this because you were yelling?"
I shush him and head over to the dining table. Aiden serves himself last, offering me warm maple syrup for my short stack.
"I can't eat all this," I protest.
"Give it a try."
Watching the others eat, I can't resist. It's a struggle to contain myself when I taste the food. I'm mad at him, I remind myself. I say nothing as I eat, offering an appreciative grunt.
"Would you have preferred breakfast in bed?" he asks when the boys have left to change for school.
"Thank you, no," I say curtly. "Do you expect me to come to work with you today?"
"I have some tasks for you, yes. Go get ready."
He waves a dismissive hand, and I slink off, watching him over my shoulder. Aiden smirks when he catches me. Mortified, I hurry to change.
When I step out he gives me an appreciative nod.
It's the same ritual, saying goodbye to the boys and piling into the car. This time I push up against the far door and fold my arms, staring out the window as we ride. He checks his email as if there’s nothing amiss.
"I think I should ride alone," I say.
"I prefer not to let you out of my sight."
I snort and shift my whole body to turn away from him and stare through the window almost hard enough to crack the glass. This isn't easy. It's hard to remember to be mad at him when all I can think about is him pinning me against the wall. I wonder if he knows what kind of effect that had on me, if I'm thinking about it now.
Does he know I thought about him while I was playing with myself?
He's so calm. He looks up and smirks when he catches me watching him, and I spin around almost too fast. Just make it obvious, Lilah.
When we arrive at the building, the elevator ride up is silent. I hold my hands clasped in front of my body and avoid looking at him. I don't give him the satisfaction of gawping at his precious atrium and ignore his little personal museum, as much as I'd like to pore over the contents. In his office, he sits behind the desk, and I let out an involuntary yelp when it lights up.
It's like looking down onto a bird's-eye view of the city. He puts two fingers on the surface and sweeps over it.
"You have a display built into the desktop," I deadpan.
"It's touch sensitive," he says, glancing at me with a slight smirk.
Unruffled, I shrug. "Neat."
"Neat? That's it."
He leans back in the seat before I can answer. "Tell me what you think."
"What am I looking at?"
"Here."
He touches his finger to a slider bar that appears along the bottom of the desk and flicks the images back and forth. The bird's-eye view changes from a decrepit collection of broken-toothed abandoned buildings and vacant houses to high rises with grass roofs, terraced with all sorts of open spaces and balconies.
"This is what I've been working on with your father. It's a redevelopment initiative for North Philadelphia. We're going to start with two city blocks.
"The roads collect solar power, see? If you have your head in the clouds you should keep your feet on the ground. So much of the tech we've been developing for luxury cars and space rockets will go into this. The batteries—"
"Do you tell all the girls about your batteries?"
He moves to m side. "Only the pretty ones," he says, caressing his hand up my arm. "I have a job for you."
I quirk an eyebrow. "You do?"
"A test for your organizational skills. I've secured the art museum for a gala unveiling of the architect's work on the project. I'm putting you in charge of the planning."
"When is it?"
"Friday."
I swallow hard, trying to hide a sudden wave of nervousness. I did tell him I wanted to do more than babysit his kids… "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Absolutely certain. I can't have you sitting in my office on my lap all day." He brushes close, his hand stroking along the small of my back. "As much as I'd like to."
I cough and fight the shiver that runs up my spine. "What do I have to do?"
"Go see Maria. I've instructed her to assist you. I'll send for you later."
"I've never seen the art museum," I blurt out.
He sits back in his plush chair and rests his handsome face on one hand, looking more like a catalog model than an executive.
"We'll have to do something about that," he says, studying me. "Off you go."
Aiden
Lilah leaves my office, and I indulge myself by watching the show. She wears slacks today, and they make her legs even more stunning than the skirt she wore yesterday. Her dark hair swishes her back with her stride. Every little detail draws me in more. She's perfect. The half-glance she spares me over one shoulder sends a ripple of sensation up my legs to my cock.
I can't get the taste of her out of my mouth, the scent of her out of my nostrils. I can't stop thinking about last night, when my needs broke through my shell of stoic composure and I just pinned the pretty girl against the wall. The way she squirmed against me, grinding her belly against my hard cock as her eyes begged for more is like a splinter in my head, throbbing in my skull.
Better that I send her out of the room.
She wants me to chase her. Fine, I'll chase.
I tap an icon on my desk. Maria answers.
“Where is she?” I ask.
"She's on her way. Her father is on hold waiting for you."
I nod. "Put him through, and after that, I want you to call the museum people. Arrange for an after-hours session for myself and a guest tonight."
"Yes, sir. Here he is."
I rock back in my seat, and Roland appears on my desk, a ghostly image. His wet lips curl into a smile. "Morning, Aiden."
"Roland. Delilah is doing well. She's wonderful with the boys. I've put her on the gala unveiling while I work."
He waves a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes. Where were you yesterday afternoon? Some peon from the zoning board called me because he couldn't reach you."
"I was indisposed," I say, hiding a growl from my voice. I was making out with your daughter, 'old friend.'
The perverse pleasure twists in my stomach. That can't be part of what I feel about her.
The old man talks. I half listen, half think about Lilah in my arms, the softness of her lips, the way she felt. It grows more difficult to concentrate.
"Are you listening?"
Roland Greymane takes a tone with me that no one else would ever dare. His dismissive arrogance grates on my nerves. Funny that Lilah thinks we're best friends. I can barely stand the man.
There was a time when I needed him. When, in fact, I worked for him. I think he sees me as a son he never had.
Not that it would stop him from destroying me if it served his ends. It's a testament to my cleverness and tenacity that I've avoided joining the trail of ruined, bankrupted, and forced-out business partners that the master of the hostile takeover has accrued.
"I'll deal with the zoning board, Roland. Without bribing or threatening. This is going to be a clean project."
He snorts. "What's that?"
When I look at his quivering lips and wet, rheumy eyes, my throat constricts and my hands open and close. I'm going to have to subtly ask Lilah a little more about this business of serving drinks to his friends. I can't stop picturing her in a little outfit bunny-dipping glasses of whiskey into the hands of men like her father. I suppress a shudder.
I've learned to hide my emotions around Roland. A long, long time ago.
"I keep telling you to get your head out of the clouds, boy. You may be a media darling, but the other shareholders are starting to ask questions about cash flows. Half of your pet projects haven't turned a profit yet, and you've yet to explain to me how a man walking on Mars benefits the shareholders."
I sigh. "It benefits mankind. The shareholders are part of mankind, aren't they?"
I would assume they are. I'm not sure about Roland. He might be some sort of reptile. My face is still, but beneath the surface I wince. I need to control myself, push the anger deep down when I'm dealing with him.
The truth is, it'll be years before I shake him. Roland was the angel investor—and I use the term angel very loosely—who got me started. In exchange I granted him forty-nine percent of the stock. After our IPO his holdings shrank, but I no longer have a majority, and if he pulled together enough shares he could challenge me.
Call me opportunistic or cruel, but I thought the old man would have given up those shares. When I signed the agreement he had no heirs, and I assumed he'd leave it all to a trust—a nice, neutral estate trust with an appointed manager and no interests besides doling out the dividends to his family. If he bothered; he hates them all, and the feeling is mutual.
Man of the House Page 6
