Possessed By You (Overworld Underground Book 1)

by John Corwin

I went to my office and spent the last hour of the prolonged lunch break reading a romance novel and drinking tea, thankful to be alone. Although the book was good, the steamy sex scenes only made me think of Tyler and his definition of a vigorous workout. I imagined him wrestling me to the floor, pinning my hands above my head, and the deliciousness that would follow.

  "Mr. Rock, you're killing me." I crossed my legs tight and attempted to think of something terribly serious to get my mind off his biceps. And his smile. "Bloody hell!" I threw my book at the wall.

  I was in big trouble.

  Chapter 21

  Once Jack and Kevin returned, the work started in earnest. The day flew past, but by the end of it, we felt the new order was off to a great start. Already, three of the programming teams had submitted ideas for improved computer applications, and the sales teams were submitting ideas for new products their clients had requested. We just had to hope the execution would work.

  The next day was just as busy. Tyler was away at a meeting, presumably about his other businesses, which was probably a good thing, since Isabel was hosting dinner for us tonight. She hadn't mentioned inviting anyone else, which made things feel a bit awkward. Knowing her, she'd make enough food for ten people. She tended to get overenthusiastic about showing off her cooking.

  I took lunch in my office, this time reading a book about exercising—no wrestling involved—when someone knocked on the door.

  "Come in," I said.

  Jack entered, a big smile on his face. "We just sold a huge contract to Everson Security," he said. "They loved the latest proposals."

  I put the book down and grinned. "That's great! Have you told Ty—Mr. Rock?"

  "Kevin left him a message." Jack rubbed his hands together. "Damn this is exciting! I feel like I'm running my own company."

  "It is a good feeling to be in control," I said, even though Tyler Rock made me feel as though I had absolutely no self-control. I paused as a thought entered my head. "Do you have plans tonight?"

  He shook his head. "Not really. Did you want to grab some drinks after work?"

  "How would you like to join me and my roommate for dinner around seven?"

  He shrugged. "Sure, sounds cool. Want me to bring anything?"

  "Just yourself."

  "Anyone else going to be there besides you and your roommate?"

  I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Mr. Rock will be there." I told him about our encounter at Gronsky's and how Isabel had invited him for dinner.

  "And you want another guy to balance the hormone levels?" Jack winked.

  I laughed. "Three is just an odd number," I said. "Besides, we're friends, right?" I really did like Jack, despite his poor taste in women, namely Ana.

  "Yeah, we are." His smile grew. "Count me in. I'll bring some dessert."

  After work, I walked home, a little spring in my step. Where that spring came from, I had no idea. Surely I wasn't looking forward to torturing myself with Tyler's irresistible presence, was I?

  Yes, you are.

  I sensed a familiar chill. A gasp burst from me and I spun to confront—George Walker climbing out of a large black SUV. He and another man dressed in a similar black suit held a scowling teen between them. It was quite obvious the teen was a prisoner.

  "Miss Glass, might we have a moment?" George and company remained where they were, apparently aware I was as skittish as a horse.

  I calmed myself with a few deep breaths. "Who are these people?"

  He nodded at the tall, thin man in a matching black suit. "This is my associate, Mr. Sticks." He indicated the prisoner. "This is young Joseph McAllister."

  "It's Joey," the teen protested. "Nobody but my mom calls me Joseph."

  "Joseph has been naughty," George said. "I was wondering if you'd mind testing your talent on him."

  I looked at the young man. He bared his teeth as if daring me to come closer. His cold presence reminded me of Stephen's. "It's like being near an open freezer," I said.

  "Would you mind touching him?" George asked.

  "Ooh, yeah, I'd like her to touch me," Joey said with a malicious grin. "If you reach down my pants, you'll find something real nice."

  A shudder ran down my spine, but I wasn't about to let this boy's chauvinist attitude scare me off. If anything, it made me more determined. "Perhaps the only thing I'd find is a hairless little piggy." I smiled sweetly. "Perhaps I'd find nothing at all." I took out my stun gun. "Perhaps this would get you off."

  Joey's eyes widened. He tried to say something, but Mr. Sticks waved a hand over the teen's mouth. The prisoner struggled, but his lips seemed glued shut.

  I looked at Sticks. "What did you do to him?"

  The man didn't answer.

  "If you don't mind, Miss Glass, we're in somewhat of a hurry." George motioned toward Joey.

  I stepped forward and touched the struggling boy's arm. The cold sensation amped considerably as it had when Stephen had grabbed me. This time, it felt almost like a separate presence, like a glowing white reptile filled with power and lust. It had sharp fangs like a snake and longed to strike, to drink. I almost felt as though I could cup the entity in my hands and pull it wriggling from inside this boy. I imagined myself touching it. It felt cold, wet, and slimy.

  A cry of surprise burst from my mouth and I staggered back.

  George looked at me with great interest. "What did you feel, Miss Glass? Details please."

  I described it to him. "Impressive." He looked at Sticks. "What did I tell you?"

  Sticks looked me up and down. He nodded.

  George looked back to me. "Mr. Sticks approves, Miss Glass. I know you wish to keep your current day job, so I'm willing to offer you something on the side. Would you be interested in assisting us like this from time to time? We can pay you for your efforts."

  "What's wrong with him?" I looked at Joey. On the outside, he seemed like a normal teen. On the inside, something was horribly wrong.

  Mr. Sticks gave George a long warning look, but said nothing.

  "There is a serious virus going around." George spared a sympathetic look for Joey. "It has been ravaging colleges and high schools. Unfortunately, it's incurable, so we have to identify the infected individuals and hold onto them until we decide what to do."

  "You don't need to keep up the CDC pretense," I said. "In case you forgot, you told me it's just a front."

  "It may be a front, but what we do is very similar." George sighed. "There are criminals in the pharmaceutical industry intent on testing this new viral serum on young people. The serum was once intended to create super soldiers, but someone stole the formula and has been selling it to unsuspecting teens."

  Criminals in the pharmaceutical industry? That was something I could believe. His stories suddenly made sense. I felt this virus as something living and malevolent. What made this one different from the common cold or any other normal sickness, I didn't know. I had certainly never felt anything like this from other sick people. Perhaps I did have a highly sensitive empathic gift I could use to help people. "I will help you, but only when I have time." I looked at the struggling teen. "Are you looking for a cure?"

  George nodded. "We are doing everything we can to make him well." He looked at me as if he wanted to say something else, but stopped. "Thank you for your time, Miss Glass. We'll be in touch." He stopped. "Oh, and I must ask that you keep this work confidential from your roommate and other associates. Should word of this virus get out, pandemonium could ensue."

  I didn't like keeping secrets, but understood his thoughts entirely. The population would break into a panic like they did over Ebola and AIDS. "I won't tell anyone."

  He climbed into the back seat of the SUV with the unfortunate Joey. Mr. Sticks got into the driver's seat. It was, at least, a normal departure for the ever-enigmatic George Walker. I almost asked how he'd enjoyed hiding in the sewer, but the door closed and I lost the chance.

  I headed into the apartment building and my thoughts once
again resuming where they'd left off before George had interrupted them. Tyler. Isabel was already home, dancing about the space, the wonderful smell of her cooking permeating the air.

  "You're home!" She flung her arms around me and danced in a circle to the timing of the music emanating from her laptop. "I cannot wait to see you all dressed up."

  I looked at her sweatpants and T-shirt. "Is that what you're wearing?"

  "No, silly." She giggled. "The food is ready though, so now we can both get dressed." She took a step back. "Remember, the slinky black dress."

  "The one that comes to my knees, or the full-length?"

  "Ooh, I'd forgotten about the shorter one. Wear it instead!"

  I wished I'd kept my mouth closed. "Okay."

  She ran into her room and closed the door. I went into my room and did the same. After sorting through the dense collection of outfits in my walk-in closet, I located the dress in question. It was short, black, and hugged my body. I was almost afraid to look at my backside in the mirror for fear my posterior had expanded from all the Dove bars and alcohol I'd had over the past few weeks.

  Isabel knocked on the door. "I'm coming in."

  "Come on, then."

  She bounced inside, absolutely stunning in an aqua blue dress that contrasted with her olive skin and dark, shiny hair. Her blue eyes shined like sapphires. She looked gorgeous, and she hadn't even put on makeup yet. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror on my closet doors and sighed. My hair looked flat and dull. My skin looked pale, as if I hadn't seen the sun in years.

  "You look like a fairy princess," Isabel said. "God I love how fair your skin is. It's like porcelain."

  "It's like the moon is what it is." I looked sickly more than anything. "You don't have to make me feel better."

  Isabel grabbed my shoulders and turned me toward the mirror. "Em, shut up and listen to me."

  I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Mother."

  "Peter was a fucking asshole. A blind, stupid asshole."

  My chest froze with pain as her words plowed up buried images of him. "Please, no, Isabel."

  "Listen to me Emily."

  I shuddered, but kept quiet, eyes downcast.

  "You are beautiful. Just because one man treated you like dirt doesn't mean you are dirt."

  "I know."

  "Do you?" she said. "Do you really know that, or are you just saying it?"

  I didn't know the answer to that question.

  "You are going to get ready. You are going to project confidence. You are going to blow a hole in Tyler's underpants."

  I laughed, and wiped away an errant tear. "Do you really think so?"

  She let go of my shoulders and sat on the edge of my bed. "You're one of the most confident women I know, Em. You're confident about everything except your body, and the way you look. It's time you got over that. It's time you put Peter where he belongs—in the god damned dustbin of history."

  I dropped next to her, and looked at my knees. They weren't terrible knees. But Isabel's looked so much better. "I'll try. But it's not easy."

  She took my hand. "Do you think it's been any easier forgetting Robert?"

  I shook my head. "No."

  "Any man who beats women deserves what he got." She trembled. Patted my hand. "Anyway, brush out your hair, and don't forget the eyeliner. Remember—our goal tonight is jizz in the pants."

  We burst into laughter, guffawing so hard we rolled on the bed. As we caught our breath, I remembered something. "Oh, I invited a coworker to even out the number. His name is Jack, and he's a nice guy."

  "Friend-zoned?" Isabel asked.

  "Yeah, but I think you'll like him. He's easy-going and from what I can tell, not an undercover asshole."

  We finished readying ourselves. It took me a while to put on makeup since I hardly ever bothered to wear it in the first place. Somehow, I managed to put the eyeliner on without getting any in my eye and had to admit, it did add a bit of "oomph" to my large eyes.

  Someone knocked on the door, and my heart leapt into my throat. I opened the door to find Jack there, and felt the flutter settle into a mild disappointment. He gave me a glass container with some sort of bread in it, and hugged me.

  "Hey, Emily. Brought some homemade banana bread. Best I could whip up on short notice."

  "You cook?" I set it down on the table.

  "I like to dabble." He sniffed the air. "Man, it smells delicious in here. What's on the menu?"

  "Some concoction of Isabel's," I said, looking down the hallway to her door. "She'll be out in a minute." I opened the fridge. "Want a beer or something?"

  "Sure."

  I gave him a light beer, figuring I'd have the six pack finished off in a month if we had more houseguests over. He gave it a dubious look, shrugged, and took a sip.

  "So, the boss is coming over, huh?" He sat on a barstool at the kitchen counter. "Already brownnosing?"

  I punched him on the shoulder. "No. Isabel invited him like I told you. She's a bit impulsive."

  The door to Isabel's room opened and she burst out of it, dancing down the hall to the still going music, and hardly paying attention. She stopped her spin and saw Jack. Isabel froze, a slightly surprised look on her face.

  Jack stood, his mouth slightly open. "Uh."

  "You're Jack?" Isabel said, still looking at him with something like astonishment on her face.

  "My name is Jack." He sounded like a little kid in his first day at school.

  "I think we established that," I said in a wry voice. "Jack, this is Isabel."

  She blushed and giggled. "Hi."

  "Well, I hope Mr. Rock shows up soon." I checked the time and saw he still had fifteen minutes.

  "Did you cook this?" Jack asked.

  "I like to cook." Isabel smiled, averting her eyes from his like an innocent maiden. "Want to see what I made?"

  Jack nodded.

  I wrinkled my forehead at Isabel, wondering when she'd become so shy, and then saw how giggly she was. Isabel was like a whirlwind around guys, pulling them in without even trying. But she was never shy. The last time I'd seen her act like this was—

  A knock on the door startled me. I felt giddiness sweep over me, and opened the door. Tyler stood outside. He looked amazing in a pair of designer jeans and a dark button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. God, he had nice forearms.

  "Miss Glass, you look—" he took a breath. "Absolutely stunning."

  I almost giggled, but somehow maintained my composure, if just barely. "You look very handsome, Mr. Rock."

  I closed the door and looked to the kitchen where Isabel was showing Jack her cookware. As if that would hold a man's interest for long. It only took me a moment to realize Jack was actually enjoying the conversation. Or else he was exceptionally good at faking it.

  "Well," I said, clapping my hands together. "Everyone is here. Shall we serve dinner?"

  Tyler pulled out a couple of bottles of red wine. "These are from my personal collection. Would you like to try the seventy-seven, or the nineteen ninety-five?"

  "Oh wow." Isabel looked from one wine bottle to the other. "Let's try the seventy-seven." She grabbed some wine glasses and set them on the table, and Jack brought out the dishes. It looked like some kind of beef with mixed vegetables, and smelled heavenly.

  I took a seat next to Isabel. Tyler sat across from me, his trademark amused smile on his face. Jack took the remaining seat across from Isabel.

  "Just dig in," Isabel said.

  Tyler put some on his plate and took a bite. "This is amazing, Isabel. I'm impressed."

  "You really know how to cook." Jack gazed at Isabel with undisguised adoration.

  I added my own two pence. "It's great, Izzy."

  The wine was also heavenly. I was used to three-buck chuck, not wine from a millionaire's personal collection. Jack and Isabel kept the conversation firmly in food land, talking about cooking and failed experiments, some of them I remembered from Isabel's attempts in college.
r />   One in particular stood out to me. "What about the time you accidentally spilled all that pepper in the beef stew, and we didn't realize it until we ate it?"

  "We nearly sneezed our heads off," Isabel said with a laugh.

  Tyler looked at Jack and Isabel, a knowing look in his eye, and nudged my foot with his. "Would you like to join me for some fresh air?"

  Seeing how happy Isabel looked, and Jack's entranced face, I decided it might be a good idea to give them some time to talk. "Let me grab my coat."

  I took my long coat and slid it on. Tyler stepped into the hallway, and called the lift. "You really do look captivating," he said, the amused look on his face settling into something far more serious.

  "Thank you." I tried to keep the nervousness out of my voice. What was I thinking going anywhere alone with him?

  He pushed the button for the roof, and we emerged a moment later into the enclosed lobby next to the pool, now covered for winter. Tyler opened the door, and we stepped outside into a chilly breeze. It wasn't numbingly cold tonight, but I still shivered.

  We skirted the edge of the pool and leaned against the railing, looking at the glittering skyline.

  "Beautiful," Tyler said.

  "It is," I agreed.

  I felt a tingle in my cheek, and felt his warm hand touching it. A part of me wanted to pull away and run for the hills. The other part wanted to purr.

  "I was talking about you," Tyler said.

  Danger!

  I pressed my hand against his. It felt so warm in the cold air. So impossibly warm. "This is a terrible, terrible idea, Mr. Rock."

  "My instincts tell me it's not, Miss Glass."

  "You'll use me. Throw me away."

  "Never." He drew in a breath, as if filling himself with my scent. "I will adore and treasure you."

  I looked up at him, as the lights of the city glittered in his eyes. He looked so sincere. I felt weak in my knees. I felt as though he were a giant Dove bar and I was about to eat it whole. But instead of waking with an enormous backside, I'd wake up alone, feeling enormous regret. Feeling used.

  He leaned toward me, not bothering with banter or amused grins or words of any kind. Everything I needed to know was in his eyes. The longing. The desire. Did he feel what I was feeling? His hand trembled against my cheek, and he stopped, his mouth inches away from mine. Was he as scared as I was?