by Olivia Gates
Images bombarded her, of spending a whole night with him and being changed forever. Even if he hadn’t meant for her to think that, she did. The man was sex personified. She had to face the fact that she’d walk out of here, never to see him again, and would forever pleasure herself to his memory.
Gritting her teeth, she kept her hand outstretched. “My money, please. This is no longer remotely funny.”
“It’s the most fun I’ve ever had. And I don’t have your money on me. I don’t walk around with three hundred thousand dollars in my pockets.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Not even you can multiply stock by a factor of a thousand overnight!”
“You’d be very impressed by what I can do over the course of one night.” Her blood boiled over before he added, “But you’re right. I was exaggerating. Your money is now around thirty thousand dollars. Still don’t have that much on me.”
“Keep it, capital and investment. Consider it my contribution to whatever good science you develop.”
She had to get away from him. If she succumbed to him in any way, the damages he’d cause her would be worse than his wiping out three years of her work. This man could end her peace of mind. Could turn her into one of those women who groveled at his feet. It was getting harder with every breath to resist his spell and it wouldn’t take him long to cast it fully over her. And while others seemed thrilled to be enthralled, it would destroy her.
But when she tried to walk around him, he blocked her, mischief frolicking in his eyes.
Stopping, she clutched her backpack harder. “Listen, Dr. Balducci. Enough, okay? I don’t want to work for you, and I sure as hell am not your partner. Accept my resignation and give me what I ask for in this letter. I only ask for my rights.”
“I don’t care what you think your rights are.” He silenced her protest by stepping closer, until the heat of his body and breath singed her. “I don’t need to read this letter to know that you make a habit of shortchanging yourself. I, on the other hand, offer you what you really deserve.”
That had her heart stuttering. “I only deserve to be left alone to continue my work. I never asked for anything more.”
“And if I consider granting you this?”
And that had her heart skipping like a pebble over water. “Y-you would?”
“I would. On the condition that you become my partner.”
She coughed a mirthless laugh. “I’m not even partner material for an ice-cream stand. I know nothing about running a business. If you’re doing this to stop me from leaving for some reason only you’ll ever know, I assure you, you don’t need to bribe me with any bogus executive position I have no wish for and would be useless at. I’m probably the only person you’ll ever meet who considers such a promotion a terrible fate and not a reward. But I’ll gladly stay if you let me continue my work.”
“So you’re fine with me as your boss? You’d stay in spite of all your vigorous objections to me and my methods?”
“As long as you leave me alone, professionally and personally, I don’t care if you’re developing immunizations to sunlight for vampires and to silver for werewolves.”
His lips split in such an exuberant smile, dazzling her with a flash of white teeth and searing charisma.
She was trying not to hyperventilate when he made it impossible, reaching out and slipping the backpack off her shoulder, his long, strong, capable fingers sliding against her flesh, making her core clench with violent need.
“Until we come to a new agreement,” he said, “put your personal effects back where they belong.”
She clung to the backpack as if to a life raft. “What new agreement? We didn’t have an old one.”
“Then we’ll make a brand-new one from scratch.”
With the utmost gentleness, he insisted on tugging the backpack out of her white-knuckled grip.
Letting it go felt as if she were lowering her last shield against him.
After placing it on her workstation, he faced her with a grin that had her swaying like a building in an earthquake. He leaned his hip on the desk, folded his arms over his expansive chest.
“Now that that’s taken care of, there’s something else I require.”
“What’s that?” she croaked.
“You. For dinner.”
Four
“You want to have me for dinner?”
Lili hated that she’d squeaked. This man kept yanking at her composure. It was a matter of time before he snapped it.
“I meant I want to take you to dinner.”
Her insides tightened more at his forbearing tone. “My IQ might be selective, but even I got that. Don’t be—”
“—redundant? Yes, I know how you hate that.” His gaze took on a new level of intensity. “But the other meaning is also right. Though I’d rather have you for dessert.”
More convinced he’d decided to go all out having fun at her expense, she hissed, “Spare me the clichés, Dr. Balducci. And stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what? Like you’re the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen? How can I, when you are?”
“That’s what you tell yourself about the people you toy with? That they had it coming, being who they are?” She shook her head as his smile faltered. “But that’s not how you’re looking at me. At least, it’s not how you’re making me feel.”
Every trace of levity left his face, avidness replacing it. “How am I making you feel? Tell me.”
“You make me feel as if you’re probing my every last thought.”
His lips quirked, the smile back in his gaze. “Why would I do that when you wallop me over the head with everything that comes to your mind the moment it does?”
“It’s what I’ve been asking myself, too, wondering why you bother. But you probably do it automatically. I think you go around scanning people to their molecular level and archiving your findings for future exploitation.”
His eyes sobered. “So you don’t think I do it for future reference, but for exploitation.”
“Actually, I don’t think it’s only exploitation you’re after, but flat-out mind control. You’re not probing my thoughts, but trying to herd them where you want them to go. I can feel your mental tentacles trying to steer my brain.”
His laugh was louder and longer this time. “Your unflattering opinion of me is devolving into sinister depths.”
“I’m sure you don’t care about anyone’s opinion of you.”
“I care about yours.” The way he’d said that, his baritone caressing her inside and out... “Stop thinking it’s your obligation to fight me on everything.” His voice dipped another octave, making her very marrow vibrate. “Accept my dinner invitation, Dr. Accardi. I promise I won’t eat you. No matter how tempted I am to do so.”
Truth was, it was she who was tempted. To succumb to his persuasion. All she wanted was to say yes, to everything he was asking of her. Come what may.
She kneaded a throbbing temple, as if to stem her fast-dwindling common sense and willpower. “I don’t know what’s going on inside that convoluted mind of yours, Dr. Balducci, and I really don’t want to know. But whatever it is, I know one thing. What you’re doing here? It’s a terrible idea.”
His eyebrows shot up in imperious query. “It is? Why?”
Though she was certain he knew, she’d spell it out. She’d give him whatever would make him leave her be, spare her the tumult of his inexplicable interest.
“First, you’re you and I’m me. Second, you’re my boss, until you accept my resignation. I’m against mixing professional and personal stuff. It always has catastrophic consequences, even when the professional situation is ideal, not as problematic and hostile as ours.”
“I have zero problems with you professionally. And the last thing I am is hos
tile. I’m the very opposite.”
“So I’m the hostile party. My bad.”
His smile widened. “I like your hostility. A lot.”
“Yeah, you find it hilarious.”
“Tut-tut. I object to your insinuations that I’m having fun at your expense.”
“I’m insinuating nothing. You are having a ball.”
“That I definitely am. You tickle my humor like no one else. I say that without malice or condescension—just the opposite. Like you, I say only what I mean.”
“Really? I doubt that—about as much as I doubt my ability to grow fur in winter.” That earned her another heart-palpitating chuckle that she did her best to ignore. “If you said only what you mean, I don’t think many in your path would remain alive.”
“So you’re saying I’m tactful, even merciful?”
“Tactful? Maybe, but for your own ends only. Merciful? Sure. And I’m a flying manta ray.”
A guffaw exploded from him, seeming to take him by as much surprise as it did her.
His hand pressed his chest as if laughing hurt him. Which it might, since he must be exercising muscles long petrified from lack of use. She had a feeling not much amused him.
His other hand wiped at his eyes. “How does your mind come up with these things? Wait, don’t answer. Mad scientist brain at work. And I thought I was one myself before meeting you. Turns out I’m too unimaginative to be one.” When she groaned at his self-deprecation, his hands rose in a placating gesture. Then he leveled his hypnotic gaze on her, his lips still twitching, as if unable to stop smiling. “So if it’s dubious I’m tactful, and certain I’m not merciful, what do you think I am?”
“You’re inexorably diplomatic and inhumanly charismatic. And you wield both traits like weapons of mass manipulation. Not that I fault you for that. That is the best way of dealing with underlings for the best outcome. Why cultivate resentments and enemies among lesser beings when you can as easily foster worship and recruit willing slaves?”
“My diplomacy and charisma aren’t getting me any worship or acquiring me any slaves in this room. They seem to work in reverse on you.”
“Yeah, contrary to my norm, my reactions to you seem the total opposite of everyone else.”
“So it’s only me who has that effect on you.” His eyes flared with something scalding...and smug?
Really? He craved ego-inflating strokes from her? He didn’t get enough from everyone else?
Well, she wasn’t contributing to the severity of his self-aggrandizing syndrome. And she wasn’t letting him keep on trying to break through her barriers.
“So since it’s clear you won’t give me what I came here for, I’ll leave you to your manipulation games with your new horde of worshipping followers. But do take this still. Consider it a souvenir.”
Pushing the envelope in his hand, she skirted him to retrieve her backpack. She rushed to the door, forcing herself not to take a last look at him, praying she’d make it out without stumbling. She was almost out when his rich voice had goose bumps storming all over her.
“What did you mean before when you said, ‘You’re you and I’m me’? What are we exactly?”
She waited until she was outside the door, safe enough to turn to him. Beholding his majesty for the last time, she suppressed a pang of regret and sighed.
“We’re two different species.”
* * *
Antonio watched Liliana Accardi disappear, battling the urge to hurtle after her, to drag her back, preferably thrown over his shoulder, swearing and scratching.
After he managed to get himself under control, he shook his head.
And he’d thought he’d already been beyond intrigued coming here. Now, after she’d defied him again, lambasted him as no one had ever dared to, then walked out on him like no one had done before, his condition had worsened exponentially.
He was hooked. For the first time in...ever.
All through this latest confrontation, he’d kept seeing himself capturing those lush lips, shoving her back onto that workstation she’d cleared, and having his way with her. All the way. Repeatedly.
He’d gotten hard the moment she’d walked in, and remained painfully so, even now. Even when he hadn’t guessed what her body looked like under those drab clothes she wore like a camouflage. For the first time physical attributes didn’t count to him. Coveting her essential self—something he’d never thought possible—took his arousal to a level he’d never experienced.
He stared down at the envelope she’d foisted on him. To think he’d set this up thinking she’d be just a conduit. A means to an end.
But it had taken her only one confrontation to derail his meticulous plan. Not only was she the only to ever outright challenge him, but when he’d added the extra pressure of personal interest, the point when other women would have buckled breathlessly, she’d become even more resistant.
Amazing.
She hadn’t even bothered considering his invitation. An invitation he’d never issued before, and that other women would kill for. She’d just scoffed it off and walked away. She would have done so without looking back if he hadn’t asked her another question. She’d stopped only long enough to give him her final verdict.
We’re two different species.
Shaking his head again, he headed back to her workstation, sat down in her chair. Though it was uncomfortable and creaky, it was the only place he wanted to be right now. It made him feel closer to her somehow. He’d take that comfort until he had the woman herself close once again.
If he even managed it.
That was another first. To be uncertain he could win someone over.
After a moment of grappling with this added complication, he tore open her resignation letter.
The wording was appropriate, yet it revealed her unbending spirit, that indomitable spark that fueled her unique persona. Yet with every letter, something tightened more behind his rib cage.
She was asking for far less than she deserved. Than the least contributor in this lab he’d acquired to be near her deserved.
He’d been right. This woman had no idea of her worth.
How had this happened? Why had she come to think this was her due? Who had made her feel worth so little?
Her life was an open book with very few lines, so there could be only two culprits. Her father was the foremost perpetrator. Knowing he’d let her grow up without caring to establish any relationship with her must have formed the early views of her self-worth. Her mother hadn’t been the epitome of parenthood, either. She’d been a severely dysfunctional woman who had no right to limit her daughter to her very questionable care. After Liliana’s early childhood, she’d become consumed in her work before falling prey to a debilitating mental disorder, repeating her husband’s abandonment, albeit in different ways.
It explained a lot about Liliana. Those abandoned as children grappled with not only trust issues, but with sometimes crippling feelings of worthlessness all their lives. He knew that all too well, having been a discarded child himself.
But he’d been lucky. Unbelievably, The Organization had been a better place for a child to grow up than the biological family Liliana had been unlucky enough to be born to.
That meant his approach today had been another miscalculation. He’d thought if he showed her that his interest had become personal, it would soften her. When it had only made her more adamant, he’d thought she’d been alarmed at how fast he was moving, because of his reputation as an indiscriminating female magnet, which he’d cultivated to serve his purposes.
But it wasn’t only this part of his public persona that repelled her. It was how she perceived all of him. And how she perceived herself in comparison.
Like no other woman he’d met, she was actually put off by his wealth and power. To
her he was a taker, like her father, someone immersed in his own needs and greeds, who cared nothing about the devastation he left behind.
Then came the part concerning herself.
If she didn’t value herself, as was evident from that letter, it stood to reason that she was unable to understand his interest in her. So she’d assigned him the most unsavory motive she could think of. That he was toying with her for his cruel entertainment.
What irony, that she suspected his manipulation when he’d already relinquished it.
He could just hear his brothers saying this turnabout only served him right, in punishment for his initial plan to use her. Not that they hadn’t done the same in their day. At least Rafael and Numair. They had both initiated their relationships with the women who’d become their wives with self-serving motives.
Not that he wanted to end up with a wife. He just wanted to experience and satisfy those unprecedented urges this spitfire provoked in him. And he would pursue her to the ends of the earth till he did.
He probed those new motivations more deeply. Was he feeling this way only because she defied him and pulverized his plans and expectations?
The internal interrogation ended before it started.
No. That was what had lured him in initially. But he’d stayed and kept going deeper because of her. She was a conundrum. A genius in her field, she was also so insightful she’d sensed things about him that no one had before. And she kept none of her insights to herself. Yet with all her brilliance, she was socially awkward, had reclusive tendencies. But what had him at the mercy of this unknown and unstoppable compulsion was that inside that steel shell of resolve and resistance, he felt such vulnerable, untried softness.
It was that that made him want to eat her up.
But his need to break down the insulating walls she’d erected around herself, what she kept raising higher around him, was more than desire. More than his dominance demanding she bow to him like everyone did. It actually...dismayed him, what she thought of him. Because it was unnervingly accurate. She saw him more clearly than anyone, even Ivan.
He was suddenly no longer feeling self-satisfied being who he was. Now he actually felt the urge to change, so he could improve her opinion of him.
