Sinful Intent

by Chelle Bliss

I twirled my finger against his pec, making tiny circles. “You don’t understand how I grew up.”

  As he stroked the side of my arm, he inched his body closer, resting his chin on top of my head. “Tell me, then.”

  “It’s so boring.”

  “I don’t think anything you say is boring.”

  “Fine,” I whispered as I caressed his skin. “My mother was a total religious prude.”

  “Was?” he asked, squeezing my shoulder.

  “She’s alive. Don’t worry. We haven’t spoken in years though.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. She was a nightmare after my father died. She had always been religious, but after he passed, she became a fanatic.”

  “She’s one of those people. Sorry, kid.” He kissed my hair before adjusting our bodies. He slid downward, making us face each other.

  Fucking hell.

  It was easier to confess stuff to him when I didn’t have to look him in the eyes.

  “She was ashamed of me. I could never do anything right in her eyes anymore. Every day, she’d tell me I was going to hell for something or other. I had enough of it after I left for college. I haven’t spoken to her since the day I stepped on campus.”

  He brushed his fingers against my cheek. “Do you regret it?” he asked as his face softened.

  I shook my head. “Not at all. I’d rather be alone than listen to her tell me I’m not good enough every day.”

  “Is that why your work is so important to you?”

  I nodded and wished it weren’t true. “It’s all I have. My family has fallen apart. Some of it is my fault, but I’ve committed myself to my work. I’m good at it, and I want to make a name for myself.”

  “You will,” he said as he touched me tenderly.

  “If we get the tape back,” I whispered.

  “There’s no we, and it’ll all be over tomorrow,” he said. “About that.” He removed his hand from my face.

  “What?” I asked as my stomach dropped.

  “I found a current connection between you and Tyler O’Shea.”

  “Oh my God, tell me.”

  “His wife works at your company.” He winced after he spoke. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

  “Who is she?” I demanded, now going through everyone I knew from work. “I don’t know anyone with the last name O’Shea.”

  “She never took his name when they married. I found it when I was searching through his records.”

  “Fuck,” I said, grabbing my cheeks and dragging my hands down my face. “Are you going to tell me who it is?”

  “Nope,” he replied as he shook his head.

  I glared at him. “Why the fuck not?”

  “Race,” he said in a soft tone, scooting forward in the bed, “I will not allow you to put yourself in danger. If I tell you who she is, you’ll go after her.”

  “I would not. And what’s with the ‘you won’t allow me’ bullshit?” I asked, feeling my jaw tense. Who in the fuck did this man think he was?

  “You hired me to do a job, and I’m going to do it.”

  “You’re fired.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said. “Remember, I’ll tie you up before I let you put yourself at risk.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me, princess.” He smirked.

  I gnawed on the inside of my lip, debating my next words. “Can I help, at least?”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  I sighed, letting my shoulders sag. “But if I don’t go, I’ll never get the tape back.” I toyed with the sheet near my feet and refused to look at him.

  “Hey,” he whispered, touching my chin.

  “What?” I asked, trying to figure out how to get the tape back myself.

  “Remember when you said you trusted me?”

  “Yes,” I mumbled, staring at his lips.

  “You have to trust me now, Race.” He brought my eyes to his.

  “I do, but so much can go wrong.”

  “Nothing will go wrong. You have an entire team of men behind you.”

  “Do they have an opening for a businesswoman? Because when that tape gets released, I’ll be blackballed.”

  “You’re so dramatic,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  I straightened my back, squaring my shoulders. “Since I’m the one paying, I should be able to help out in any way I see fit.”

  “Baby,” he murmured as he leaned forward to kiss me.

  I weaved, avoiding the contact. “Don’t ‘baby’ me.”

  He hovered over my lips, staring me straight in the eyes. “I’ll talk to the guys and ask them if they think it’s okay. All right?”

  I glared at him, knowing he was just pacifying me. “Fine.” I was going to find a way to be there when the shit went down.

  I didn’t have a choice. It was my life hanging in the balance, and no one would look out for me like I would.

  No one.

  I was the only person I could rely on in my life. It was how it’d been for years. I was okay with it. I had grown used to it. I couldn’t just hand my future over to a man. That was how I’d gotten into this mess to begin with.

  My father had taught me to trust my instincts.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Don’t Let Her Run

  Morgan

  Race’s eyes grew wide, her mouth hanging open as I walked into her office. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, princess,” I said as I took in the majesty of her office. I was totally impressed by the size. “I thought I’d drop by and see how things were going.”

  She glanced at her watch before glaring at me. “It’s almost five. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready to go meet him?”

  I nodded, tapping on my watch. “Plenty of time.”

  She sighed, pushing herself away from her desk before stalking toward me. “No, there isn’t.”

  “Everything is set. We’re just waiting for seven to roll around. The day is dragging. I thought stopping by would be a great way to pass the time.”

  She slid her hand up my arm and rested it on my shoulder. “Did you talk to the guys about me tagging along tonight?”

  “Yeah. They said that you can meet us at six thirty at the office and we’ll head out from there.” I was fucking lying through my teeth.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” I lied again. I was going to have to do some major groveling later to make up for the bullshit falling out of my mouth.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She leaned forward and gave me a kiss square on the lips.

  As she started to pull away, I wrapped my arms around her waist and brought her body flush with mine.

  “Where you going? I need more of that,” I murmured against her lips.

  “Morgan,” she said, pushing against my chest, “I can’t get caught here at work.”

  “Doesn’t everyone knock?” I asked, peering over her shoulder toward the door.

  “Yeah, but—”

  I cut her off, covering her mouth with mine and breathing her in.

  She moaned into my mouth as she pulled the breath from my lungs. I pulled her tighter against me, wrapping her in my arms.

  What the fuck was I doing?

  I hadn’t gone there to fuck her, let alone kiss her. I wanted to drop by, say hello, have a quick chat with Natasha, and then make sure Race wouldn’t make the seven o’clock meeting tonight. But here I was, in a lip-lock with Race.

  I broke the kiss. “I gotta stop.”

  “What if I don’t want you to?” she asked with lipstick-smudged lips, panting.

  “I just wanted to drop by and see how you were and tell you about tonight.” I licked my lips, savoring every drop of her left behind.

  “That’s all you wanted?” she asked, backing away as she adjusted her shirt.

  “Yep. That’s all,” I lied.

  Three times I’d lied to her face. She’d probably hav
e me by the balls later for it, but it was the right thing to do.

  “Ms. True,” her secretary called through the door as she knocked.

  “Fix your lips,” I whispered, touching my mouth.

  “Shit,” she muttered, running to her desk. She grabbed a mirror and tried to fix her lipstick but failed. “Yes?” she called out.

  Her secretary walked in, glancing between us as she walked toward Race’s desk. She gave me a quick wink before turning her full attention to her boss. “Natasha wanted to go over the notes for your meeting tomorrow before she leaves tonight. She asked me to give them to you and to have you phone her when you’re ready.”

  Natasha. That was Tyler’s wife—and possibly an accomplice in his scheme to ruin Race’s career. I hadn’t told her about Natasha yet, and I still didn’t feel the time was right, but I had to warn her.

  Race took the notes from the woman and flipped through the pages. “I’ll give them a quick read, Cara. Call her and tell her to come to my office in five.”

  The woman nodded and turned on her heel to face me. “Are you sure you’ll be done?” Cara asked as her eyes raked over me from head to toe, and with a grin so dirty, I knew exactly what she had on her mind.

  “Yes. We’re done here. Mr. DeLuca was on his way out.”

  “Shame,” Cara whispered before she sauntered toward the door and left.

  Race looked up from her notes with her eyebrows knitted together. “What did she say?”

  “Nothing.” I shrugged.

  She tossed the papers on the desk and collapsed in her chair. “Is there anything else you need, Morgan?”

  “Oh, we’re back to Morgan?”

  “Stop.” She rubbed her forehead. “I have to finish my work so I can be out of here on time tonight. There’s no way I’m going to miss it.”

  “But it’s okay if you can’t make it tonight. I’d prefer it if you weren’t there.” It was the only truthful thing I’d said since I’d walked through her office door.

  “I’m going. Don’t even try to talk me out of it. Now go so I’m not late.”

  I waved. “Yes, ma’am,” I said before I left.

  As the door clicked closed, a loud bang made me jump.

  “What the hell?” I asked as I turned around.

  Cara walked over to me, touching my arm. More like she groped my arm as she stared up at me. “Don’t mind her. Oh, you must work out.” She squeezed my forearms, working her way up to just above my elbows.

  “Cara…”

  “I’m too old for you, Mr. DeLuca. I’m just wondering what your intentions are toward Ms. True.”

  “Um, I don’t know.”

  “Honey, the woman needs a man. I saw the look on her face when I walked in the room. I saw her bee-stung lips and red lipstick still smeared on her face. I think you’re just what the doctor ordered. Just perfect.”

  “Thanks.” I laughed. “I’m trying my best.”

  “The woman works too much. Life’s too short and she’s too young to always spend it in the office. Just treat her right, Mr. DeLuca.”

  “Morgan,” I corrected her.

  “Morgan,” she repeated, dropping her hand from my arm.

  The sound of a person clearing their throat made us both turn.

  “Am I interrupting?” the woman asked, glaring at me and giving us both a look of disgust.

  Cara shook her head as she sat down and started moving papers around on the desk. “I was just saying goodbye, ma’am. You’re a few minutes early, but I’m sure Ms. True is ready for you.”

  In front of me stood Natasha.

  The vibe she threw off was that of a megabitch.

  Although Race carried herself with authority, she had nothing on Natasha. Her pin-straight black hair was pulled up in a bun so tight that I wondered if it altered the look of her face. Her business suit was perfect, not a wrinkle on it, as if she’d stood all day to avoid any imperfections.

  “And you are?” Natasha asked in a snotty tone as she looked me over, but not like Cara had before. Natasha looked at me like a low-class citizen who wasn’t fit to breathe the same air she was breathing.

  “Mr. DeLuca,” I replied as I looked at her the exact same way she had me, but I held my hand out, trying to be courteous.

  She glanced down and snarled. “I’m sure she’s ready for me,” Natasha said as she walked past me and entered Race’s office without knocking.

  “Wow,” I muttered to myself before the door closed.

  “She’s a real treat,” Cara said before sticking her finger in her mouth. “She’s one of the ugliest people I know.”

  I wondered if Cara was the eyes and ears in this place. Typically, secretaries talked. If there was a bitchy boss, I wondered how much information was shared between them.

  “Let me ask you something,” I whispered as I leaned on Cara’s desk to be close enough not to be overheard.

  “Anything you want, handsome.” She gazed up at me.

  “Natasha. Good person or bad? I think I know the answer.”

  “Nothing but bad there.”

  “How bad?” I asked as I rubbed my chin.

  “She’d sell her own mother for personal gain. She’s the worst there is here. No one likes her, and poor Ms. True has to work with her. They’re both in line for partnership. It’s dog-eat-dog, and I worry Natasha will do anything to win.”

  “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” I said even though I didn’t know how in the fuck I’d do that. But I knew that if Natasha were involved, I wouldn’t let her destroy Race.

  “Who are you, Morgan?” she asked as she rested her chin in her palm, giving me dreamy eyes.

  “I may be done before anything gets started.”

  “Well, isn’t that confusing?”

  “If you see me again, I’ll answer it. Right now, everything is in the air.”

  “Don’t let her run,” she whispered. “She needs a tight leash, that one.” Cara covered her mouth. “Don’t ever tell her I said that.”

  I ran my fingers across my lips and replied, “My lips are sealed.”

  “Cara!” a voice yelled from the other side of the closed door.

  She sighed, pushing back from the desk. “You better go before we get ourselves in trouble.”

  I nodded. I liked Cara. I felt like we could be good friends. “I’m out. Nice chatting with you, Cara.”

  “Any time, handsome. Come back, ya hear?” She waved before disappearing into Race’s office.

  As soon as I exited the building, I dialed Johnny. “Hey, this is Race’s friend from the other day.”

  “Hi, son. What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “Race is going to call you tonight. I need a favor.”

  “Anything you or Race need, I’m there for you.”

  “Here’s what I need you to do for me,” I said before setting my plan into motion.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’m Coming, STFU

  Race

  After I changed into a pair of black track pants, a formfitting, black tank top, and matching sneakers, I headed for the door. I probably looked like a complete fool, but I couldn’t exactly show up in my business suit.

  For once, I got out of the office on time.

  I walked toward my car, feeling the summer sun beating down against my clothing as it scorched my skin underneath.

  Me: I’m on my way.

  I texted Morgan before I rifled through my purse to grab my keys. As I approached my car, I could see immediately that something was wrong.

  I closed my eyes, drawing deep breaths through my nose.

  This can’t be happening. No. No.

  This can’t be happening.

  One of my tires was flat. I wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

  “Fuck,” I said, gripping my keys hard enough that they dug into the cuts on my hands, making me wince. “Motherfucker!” I yelled out, trying to steady my breathing but finding it impossible.

  I closed my eyes aga
in. Tears started to form as I stood there, trying not to be hysterical.

  Just as I was about to throw my shit everywhere in a mini fit, my phone beeped.

  Morgan: When will you be here?

  I replied through watery eyes, having to erase my message a few times before getting it right.

  Me: As soon as I can get a cab. I have a flat tire.

  Morgan: Do not leave the office.

  He can’t be serious.

  I didn’t care if I had to walk to the damn meeting spot; I was going to be there. I tried to hold the phone steady as I typed back with shaky fingers.

  Me: I’m coming. STFU.

  I tossed my keys in my purse, giving my car one more look before marching back toward the office building. I stopped three steps away from the front door, dialing Johnny.

  He answered the phone with his same old greeting. “Johnny’s Auto.”

  “Hey, Johnny. It’s Race.”

  “Baby girl, twice in one week. I couldn’t be so lucky.”

  A pang of guilt sliced through me. He seemed to like talking about my father as much as I did, and he was the only connection I had to talk with about him now.

  “I’m sorry, Johnny. I should call you more.”

  “I know you’re busy, kid. You’re a high-powered businesswoman now. Your daddy would’ve been so proud.”

  “I need your help.” I avoided his statement about my father. I didn’t want to lose time by chatting about the olden days. There would be time for that later, but Tyler needed to be dealt with today.

  “What can I do for ya?”

  “I have a flat tire. I need your help, Johnny.”

  “Seems to be common problem this week.”

  “Yeah.” I laughed through my tears. “Can you help me?”

  “I can. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  “Johnny,” I said, twirling the keys on my index finger as I started through the door of the office building, “I won’t be here when you get here. I’ll leave the keys with security.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked, panic evident in his voice.

  I stopped mid step. “What does it matter?”

  “It doesn’t. I just don’t know which car is yours.”