Brianne's Secret

by M. S. Parker

  “Come back,” he continued. “Give me ten minutes and an energy drink from the mini-fridge, I'll be good to go again.”

  It wasn't even remotely tempting since that would mean at least ten minutes of small talk, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I wasn't a bitch, no matter how often I'd been called one. “Thanks, but no. I have to go to work.”

  He glanced at the clock, a puzzled expression settling on his handsome face. “It's three in the afternoon.”

  I smiled and shrugged as I adjusted my tank top. His eyes locked onto the bit of cleavage the tight black top exposed. I didn't say anything. He'd seen them bare. As long as he kept his hands to himself now, he could look all he wanted.

  “Will I see you around?” He sat up, but didn't reach for me.

  “Probably not for a while,” I answered truthfully. While I liked coming to campus, I generally tried not to frequent the same places when I had an itch to scratch. No matter how good the sex, I rarely repeated. I knew society liked to pretend it was the women who got clingy, but I'd met plenty of men who thought a couple roles in the hay meant we were a regular thing.

  I smoothed down my miniskirt and pulled on my nearly knee-high boots. I had two pairs, but these were my favorites. The four-inch heels raised me close to five-eight and I preferred being tall. Plus, if I ran into any trouble, they packed a hell of a kick.

  “Where do you work?”

  I gave him a small smile, but didn't answer. I scanned the carpet. One of my earrings had fallen out. I still had the other three in my right earlobe, but the hoop from the cartilage at the top was missing.

  “Let me guess.”

  I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn't see my face. I knew what was coming. I knew how people saw me. I'd dyed my hair several times over the years, but for the past six months, I had rocked a bright blue. It was cropped short, angled at my chin in a way that kept my heart-shaped face from looking too delicate. My eyes were a pale gray that most people thought were contacts though they were one hundred percent natural. Aside from the multiple piercings in my ears, I also had an eyebrow ring and one in my bellybutton. That, plus my numerous tattoos and the way I dressed, meant people generally made the wrong assumptions regarding my occupation.

  “Dancer at The Blue Moon?”

  At least he’d picked one of the classier strip clubs in the area. I had a feeling more than one of my conquests over the past three and a half years had gone trolling clubs looking for me. The thought was amusing. What did it say about the state of feminism in society when a woman couldn't express herself through her appearance without people assuming she was a stripper?

  I finally spotted the small silver hoop and slid it back into place with practiced ease. “It was fun,” I said as I headed out the door.

  By the time I reached the dorm lobby, I was already running through my schedule for the day, my encounter all but forgotten. I only had two jobs today, but the second had a long list of things I needed to do, most of which had to wait until everyone at the company had gone home. Those were my second favorite kind of jobs, because it meant I rarely had anyone staring at me or trying to talk to me while I worked. The best work was, of course, the kind I could do from home. I liked crowds at clubs and concerts, the anonymity that came with being part of the masses, but I wasn't a social person. There was only so much personal interaction I could handle at a time. I'd heard half a dozen psychological diagnosis as well as a multitude of reasons behind them. I had a simpler explanation that I preferred.

  I didn't play well with others.

  The brisk wind that greeted me as I stepped outside was much chillier than it had been less than an hour ago. Autumn really had come to Colorado. I shivered and pulled my long-sleeved shirt more tightly around me. I'd been debating about stopping home before hitting my first appointment—the weather just cinched it. Coming home late tonight without a jacket would suck.

  I headed toward the apartments that sat on the edge of the Colorado State University campus. They were a nice mix of graduate students, married students and recent graduates in the transition stage between college and real life. Age-wise, I fit in with them, even though I'd graduated three years ago. I didn't really hang out with any of them though. I preferred my own company. I could trust myself.

  I didn't even give the 'out of order' sign by the elevator a second glance; it had only worked the first year I'd lived here. I didn't mind the walk up three flights of stairs most of the time. Less time I had to spend on the treadmill at the gym. It was a real bitch when I had to carry stuff though.

  The apartment was small, but I didn't need a big place. When you grow up with hardly any room to move, a one-bedroom with a kitchen, bathroom and living room all to myself was a luxury. The place was neat and simple, the furniture a mismatch of clunky college thrift store finds and the nicer pieces I'd been slowly buying. A bedroom suite had been my first purchase, a celebration of my first self-employment check. I didn't go in the bedroom though. I didn't need to. Still, I paused at its doorway and looked at my place, allowing myself to feel the satisfaction of knowing I'd accomplished all this on my own.

  I swapped my outer shirt for my favorite leather jacket and headed back out. Nothing like a good fuck and then a little affirmation of how far I'd brought myself. I wasn't a shrink, but I thought I was pretty well-adjusted. Considering other people who'd gone through the same things I had were either dead, drug addicts or prostitutes, I felt a pat on the back was well-deserved.

  I was still in a good mood when I strolled in to Khan and Associates, and the secretary glaring at me only brightened my day. She was a new addition since the last time I'd been here, which meant I was going to enjoy this.

  “May I help you?”

  If she'd had glasses, she would've glared at me over their rims. I plunked my backpack down on her desk just to see her eye twitch.

  “I'm here to see Ms. Khan.” I kept my tone polite and professional. “She's expecting me.”

  “Take a seat.” The secretary gave me one of those condescending looks that women like her seemed to reserve for people like me. “I'll get to you when I get to you.”

  I laughed and the scowl deepened, creating an array of tiny wrinkles on her forehead. If she kept that up, she'd make herself look years older than she was. “Check your appointment book. Lang Tech Consulting.”

  She didn't even pretend to look at her computer or the calendar on the desk. Instead, she pointed toward the chairs and looked at me like I was something to scrape off the bottom of her shoe. My mild annoyance started to turn into actual anger. I didn't show it though. Even as good as I was at my job, if I got too mouthy, people wouldn't overlook my appearance to hire me.

  “Ma'am,” I spoke through gritted teeth. “I'm going to say this one more time and then I'm going to make a call that you really don't want me to make. Let Ms. Khan know I'm here.”

  “Excuse me?” She stood up, leaning toward me with her hands on the desk.

  I was sure the look she was giving me had quelled plenty of people who seemed tougher than me. Unfortunately for her, my past was full of people a hell of a lot scarier than a middle-aged secretary with a superiority complex.

  I sighed and straightened. “Don't say I didn't warn you.” I pulled my phone from my bag and scrolled through my business contacts. I tapped on the right name and waited.

  “Yes?”

  “Ms. Khan, this is Jenna Lang.”

  “You're late, Ms. Lang.” My client's voice was sharp.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “I've run into a bit of a snag and it doesn't look like I'll make it in.”

  “Ms. Lang,” Ms. Khan interrupted. “Is there a point to this? You're far too professional to sound so flippant about canceling at the last minute.”

  “Indeed,” I said. “Your secretary seems to be under the impression that my presence here is unwelcome.”

  Ms. Khan muttered something under her breath that could have been a series of swear words. “I'll be right there.”<
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  I ended the call, put my phone back in my bag and then gave the secretary a sugar-sweet smile. “It'll be just a minute.”

  “Young lady,” she said, far from threatened. “And I use that term very loosely, if you don't turn around and start walking toward that door, I will call security and watch them haul your slutty little ass right out of here.”

  A door at the end of the hall opened, then closed, and I took a step back from the desk. A flash of triumph crossed the secretary's face and I knew she thought she'd won.

  “Sandra!”

  I couldn't stop the smirk when I saw the secretary's face go pale. I didn't want her to get fired, but I'd have been lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to witnessing her bubble get popped.

  “Ms. Khan.”

  “Didn't Ms. Lang tell you that she had an appointment with me?”

  The secretary glared at me, crossed her arms and turned back to her boss. “No, ma'am, she just marched right in here and demanded to see you.”

  My smile disappeared. She was seriously going to stand there and lie? I glanced at Ms. Khan. The woman was impeccably dressed, as always, the picture perfect business woman. She didn't look at me, but I could tell her face was blank.

  “Your job, Sandra, is to make inquiries in situations such as this, not prevent work from getting done. Something to keep in mind for the future.” Ms. Khan turned back the way she'd come, making an impatient gesture over her shoulder. “Come on, Ms. Lang. I'm not letting you bill me for the time you've wasted.”

  I pressed my lips into a flat line and followed. I'd done four jobs for Khan and Associates and had always thought she'd been at least indifferent about me. Apparently, I'd been giving her too much credit. As we walked down the hallway to her office, I realized she was just a good actress. She'd been tolerating me because I was good at what I did and still new enough to charge a lower rate than my competitors. I didn't feel any anger though, just resignation. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last.

  Fuck them all.

  I didn't care. I was who I was. No one would ever change that.

  Two

  I finished up at Khan and Associates in good time, my annoyance at what had happened driving me to get done and get out as soon as possible. Fortunately, Ms. Khan left me alone to do my work, so I didn't have her condescending presence to deal with. Still, I was glad to leave. I wouldn't end my contract with the company over this, but I wasn't about to spend any more time than necessary hanging around.

  The sun was going down as I stepped into the brisk wind. I headed for the bus stop, thankful it was only a couple yards away. I'd probably end up taking a cab home tonight. It was getting to be the time of year when I couldn't walk to all my jobs, which meant splitting my travel between cabs and buses. I wasn't fond of either, but didn't have enough money to buy a car yet, no matter how well I'd been doing financially. Still too much debt to pay off.

  The driver gave me a once over and rolled her eyes as I climbed on board. I took the first empty seat and stared out the window as the bus made its way through Fort Collins. The software company I was going to was on the other side of the city, so I had at least thirty minutes, forty if traffic was bad. I ran through the checklist of everything I had to do. The repetition and familiarity of work kept me from thinking about anything else, and if there was one thing I avoided at all costs, it was thinking too much.

  Archer Enterprises was in a fairly unassuming building considering it was one of the largest software companies in the country. I hadn't been here before, but I'd done my research when I'd gotten the call for the job. The place didn't look like much on the outside, but I knew the tech inside would be better than anything I'd ever seen before. Hell, their state-of-art badassness was the main reason I'd wanted the job.

  I walked to the glass doors and glanced around as the doors opened. Immediately inside the lobby were two security guards who looked like they'd once either been Special Forces or linebackers. Maybe both.

  “Jenna Lang,” I introduced myself. “Lang Tech Consulting.”

  The younger of the two guards gave me a doubtful look and I wondered if I was going to have another issue.

  “Have you been here before?” the other guard asked. His dark eyes were warm, but his expression professional.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

  “Actually, Miss, it does,” he said. His tone was neutral, neither kind nor unkind. “Mr. Archer doesn't allow us to let people up unless they've been here before.”

  One corner of my mouth twitched up in a partial smirk. “Then how are they ever supposed to get in?”

  The younger one smiled. “What Monty here is trying to say is that Mr. Archer insists on being contacted personally to come down for anyone who hasn't been here before.”

  Okay, that was surprising. What CEO came down to see every visitor? I mean, I knew a lot of those types had a lot of time on their hands, but I assumed the majority preferred to spend that time clubbing or fucking or spending obscene amounts of money, sometimes all at once.

  “Wait here,” the older guard instructed. He reached over and picked up a phone. He pushed a button, waited a moment, and then spoke again. “Mr. Archer, there's a Ms. Lang here for you.” Another minute passed. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.” He hung up the phone and turned back to me. “He'll be down in a moment.”

  I nodded and the older guard took a couple steps back. The younger one, however, stayed where he was. I didn't think he was concerned about me doing something crazy or anything like that. Based on the way he eyed me up and down, I was pretty sure he was deciding if he just wanted to ogle me or ask me out. He was kind of cute, but I wasn't interested in another fuck anytime soon. And I didn't do dates.

  I looked around. The lobby was small, but that didn't surprise me. Archer Enterprises was large in terms of production, so their factories were massive, but one of the things that made Archer different from similar companies was that the CEO hand-picked only the best and the brightest, believing in quality over quantity, and he was willing to pay what they were worth. Which made sense since he'd been the best and the brightest his whole life.

  Rylan Archer. Twenty-eight and a self-made billionaire who'd started his software company while a freshman at Colorado State University. By the time he was a senior, he'd had enough money that he could've dropped out, but he finished his degree in computer science and then hired the number two in his field, a guy named Curt Stockard who'd end up being the public face of Archer Enterprises until eighteen months ago when a car accident put him in a coma for three weeks. When he woke, he cashed in his shares of the company and had taken off to the Bahamas with his wife. Since then, Rylan had been forced into the spotlight and, from what I could tell, he didn't like it. I'd barely been able to find any interviews with him.

  I looked over when I heard the elevators ding and Archer stepped out. My eyes widened a bit. I had to admit the pictures I'd found didn't do the CEO any justice. Dark brown hair that was just a bit too long for the average businessman, stunning blue-violet eyes that, even from a distance, I could tell were intelligent. He was tall, easily six-two, six-three, with broad shoulders and a suit that showed off his muscular torso. Strong jawline, high cheekbones. Damn. He was hot.

  But this was business. And I never mixed business with pleasure.

  “Mr. Archer.” I stretched out my hand.

  “Ms. Lang.”

  Rylan's grip was firm, but not too much. He didn't try to do what most men did and make it caress, but he also didn't take the opportunity to prove his superiority by trying to crush my hand either. The men who attempted to do that generally ended up with an unpleasant lesson in the pressure points in the hand.

  “If you'll follow me.”

  He turned and started to walk without even looking behind him to see if I was coming. I wondered how much of that was the confidence that came from being the boss or if it was arrogance. I supposed I'd figure it out soon enough.

  �
��I've done my research on you, Ms. Lang,” he said as he pressed the elevator button.

  I was a bit surprised. I'd thought someone who insisted on personally meeting every new arrival would want to talk to me one-on-one since we hadn't really had an interview. As we hadn't gone to his private elevator, I assumed he was putting me right to work.

  “And I've done mine on you, Mr. Archer,” I replied.

  I caught a hint of a smile, but he didn't look at me.

  “I insist that all of my employees call me Rylan.”

  Ah, one of those kinds of rich guys. I'd met them before. They wanted their employees to think of them as buddies. Thought it gave them some kind of equality, made them more like the “common man”.

  “Am I an employee then?” I asked as I followed him onto the elevator.

  “For the moment,” he answered and pushed the button for the top floor.

  I frowned. Most central computer systems were kept on ground floors, sometimes higher up if a company didn't have the whole building. I'd never heard of a computer room on the top floor.

  “You'll be accessing the server from my office,” Rylan said. “I don't allow anyone but myself in the main server room.”

  “No private elevator?” The question popped out and I mentally scolded myself. That wasn't any of my business.

  Rylan ignored my question and went back to his previous train of thought. “You have quite an impressive history.” He glanced at me. “Would you prefer I call you Ms. Lang, or is Jenna okay?”

  I knew how it worked. If I said Ms. Lang, I was being stand-offish. If I said Jenna, he might take it as license to get too personal. In previous situations, I'd found the best way to handle it was to not make the decision. “However you address the rest of your employees would be appropriate.”

  Again, a twitch of lips that said my answer somehow amused him. “All right, Jenna. As I was saying, when looking for a tech company, I was very thorough. I have to say, I was surprised when I reached you.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course he was surprised. Everyone was surprised to find out I ran a legitimate business and had the degrees to back it up. Not that I could blame them. I looked more like the freak the suits kept in the basement and never let out.