He laughs and kisses my forehead before walking to the door, but before he leaves he turns and faces me. “Do you know what I love about you?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “Aside from the alligator story, which was adorable, before that you told me exactly what you feel and want. The only games you play with me are in the bedroom, and those I welcome.” He turns and disappears into the bedroom.
I stare after him, and I want to be pleased with those words, but all I can focus on is his use of the word “games.” He’s used that to reference his father often and it tells me where his head is this morning. Death is still on his mind and it will guide every action he takes today, and my gut tells me that is a reason to worry.
* * *
Eager to get downstairs and try to have some time to talk to Shane, I quickly shower, allowing myself only a few minutes of excitement over the huge makeup selection I find at my disposal in the bathroom. I choose Urban Decay shades of pink for my eyes, a gorgeous pink stay-on lipstick from Chanel, which I dab on my cheeks as well, and I finish everything off with powder and Chanel mascara. Even my new flatiron is amazing, and between it and new shower products, my hair is a rich, shiny brown that almost makes me forget how much I liked being blond. The memory of law school slips into my mind and I shove it aside, thinking instead of the stack of files downstairs filled with ventures Brandon Enterprises might undertake. I’m about to exit the bathroom, when I pick up the eye shadow palette again. Makeup. Yes. Makeup. An investment that’s low risk, high reward. Every woman wants it, and some men.
Feeling excited about exploring this idea, I hurry to the closet to dress. Bypassing the ribbed tights for sexy thigh-highs, which I think Shane will prefer, I slip on my fitted pink Chanel suit dress, and now I’m thinking about high fashion. Makeup or clothing, or both, could be an amazing part of the Brandon empire, but I need to evaluate the potential and find an opportunity before I say anything. Focusing on finishing up, and getting down to breakfast, I slip on a pair of amazing strappy black Versace heels and complete the look with my new black and gray purse that has an adorable buckle. I stroke the leather, thinking about a purse line for Brandon Enterprises, but my mind goes elsewhere. Suddenly, I am remembering the day I’d walked into a pawnshop several weeks ago, after no contact from my brother for weeks, and given up my Hermès. I’d been alone and scared, upset over the loss of law school, and now I’m wearing Chanel and Versace, thinking about investments, and about to go have breakfast with a man I absolutely love.
The doorbell rings, no doubt with our food. I grab my new black Versace trench coat, which I adore, hurry back to the bathroom, and spray myself with the Chanel No. 5 on the counter before heading downstairs. Once I’m in the foyer, I hang my coat and purse on the rack, and walk through the archway to find Shane standing at the island facing me, talking on the phone with his head bent. As if he senses my entry, he looks up, his eyes traveling my body and warming with appreciation.
“I’ll have the check cut by noon,” he says, motioning me forward. I walk toward him, and he rounds the counter to meet me. “I’ll call you back,” he says to his caller, ending the conversation and setting his phone on the counter.
His hands settle at my waist. “You look beautiful, sweetheart. Do you like it?”
“I love it, Shane. Thank you. I feel spoiled.”
“Stop saying ‘thank you.’ It’s not a gift. It’s our life and it’s not about being spoiled.” He doesn’t give me time to argue that point. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be. I put the food in the oven to keep it warm. You ready to eat?”
“Very,” I confirm, and together we sit at the island, talking about the food and the snowstorm that’s coming down outside, and we even plan a weekend movie escape. Everything is great, including our food. It’s a good morning, a prelude to what feels like many to follow. But even so, there are random shadows in Shane’s eyes. A glimpse of what the man who punched that mirror faces this morning.
We head to the door, and Shane pulls on a long gray trench coat before helping me with mine, his hands lingering on my lapels, and that feeling that he is battling some internal war hits me again. “You’re very stressed,” I say, cupping his cheek.
He covers my hand with his and pulls it between us. “Why do you say that?”
“I see it in your eyes.”
“Impossible. I could beat a world champion poker player with my courtroom face.”
“I’m not a world champion poker player and this isn’t a courtroom, Shane. It’s me and you, and I’m the woman in your bed.”
“My mother did warn me about the woman in my bed.”
“She warned you about me?”
“She warned me in general.” He smiles. “And I’m teasing you. Apparently, my delivery is lacking today. You’re right. I’m on edge.”
“It’s Brody, right?” I ask, relieved that he’s willing to talk to me. “Did you know him well?”
“I didn’t know him well, but I know that he had the world in his palm, and based on the press he’s gotten in the last few days, it seems he ended up on the wrong path. Like my brother has gone down the wrong path.”
“And you’ve tried to right him,” I say, understanding completely. “Like I did my brother, but you see where that ended. I think it’s right that I tried to save him, just as it is that you’ve tried to save Derek, but don’t hold on too long like I did.”
“I’m done holding on to Derek.” There is a finality to his voice and a hardness in his eyes that delivers relief and sadness, as I know what it’s like to be betrayed by a brother.
“Acceptance,” I say, remembering what he’d told me about knowing versus accepting. “That’s where you’re at.”
“Yes. That’s where I’m at.” He strokes hair from my eyes, and seeming to guess where my mind is headed, he promises, “You’ll get there too, and believe it or not, it’s a relief.”
“Is it?”
“I didn’t say you’d celebrate, just that you’ll find some peace when you get to this place.” He motions to the door. “Ready?”
I nod, and we head to the door, and then onward to the elevator, where we ride in silence, his thoughts a heavy weight between us, but so are mine with thoughts of my brother. It’s kind of surreal to realize that the idea of talking to my brother again comes with dread. I don’t feel like he’s my blood. Now, he feels more like the enemy.
I blink and we’ve exited to the garage, and Shane breaks the silence. “Look out for alligators.”
I laugh, and he drapes his arm over my shoulder. The memory of yesterday and the black Escalade pops into my mind, and I open my mouth to ask about it, but think better. He’s letting go of a brother, and dealing with the upcoming loss of his father, two things I understand more than many would. He said he’d tell me and I have to give him room to do so on his terms. I have to let go of my past to have a future here, and judge Shane by Shane. I have to trust him or we are nothing before we are ever something.
* * *
Shane parks the Bentley in the private section of the office building garage and kills the engine, rounding the car to help me out, then popping the trunk. “Why don’t you leave your coat down here with mine?” he offers, shrugging out of his and sticking it inside.
I let him help me remove it, and he shuts both inside, offering me the key to the car. “This is the extra for you to keep.”
“I’m not going to just drive the Bentley, Shane.”
“Yes, you are,” he says, firmly.
“What if you need it?”
“I have another Bentley in New York that I’m going to have shipped to us. One I bought myself so believe you me, I’d rather drive it.”
“Your father gave you this one.”
“And I hate it.”
“Shane—”
He presses the key into my hand. “You can still buy your own. Until then, we’ll make do with the two at our disposal. Agreed?”
A car pulls up nearby and I give a reluctant nod, s
lipping the key into my purse.
“Good,” he approves, and we walk toward the elevator.
“So there’s a Bentley just sitting in a garage?”
“For a year, which is insanity, but proof I wasn’t committed to staying here.”
“You have an apartment there too?”
“Yes and I’m keeping it.” He punches the button to the elevator. “In fact, why don’t we plan a trip? I have this family meeting my father wants to have Sunday, but we can go next weekend. We can have that talk I promised then as well.”
I think he’s buying time but he’s still planned a time and place to talk, and I can happily live with that. “That would be wonderful. I’m excited to see what a place you picked and decorated looks like.”
Once inside the elevator for the short hop to the lobby, he adds, “We still need to decorate this one.” His eyes meet mine, jagged emotions in their depths. “I think I need to do it now.”
Before his father dies, I supply mentally, and quickly agree. “I think that might be a good idea.”
We exit to the lobby and soon we’re on the main car, headed to Brandon Enterprises’ corporate level, and almost to our floor when I suddenly remember Randy. “Any word on the security guard?”
“He’s not on our staff,” he says, “but we think he’s connected to Derek. I’ll let you know when I have confirmation.”
That news makes my stomach somersault. “I tried to get into Derek’s office that night. He could have so easily caught me in there.”
The elevator dings. “You shouldn’t have been trying to get into his office,” he warns. “Don’t put yourself at risk.”
The doors open. “I thought I was alone and I didn’t get caught,” I say, stepping into the hallway and he quickly joins me, catching my arm and turning me to face him.
“Don’t take risks with Derek. Now it’s your turn to promise me.” I open my mouth to argue and he doesn’t give me the chance. “Promise, Emily.”
“Yes, okay. I promise.”
He studies me a moment, as if confirming my agreement, before releasing me, and we continue to the offices, where the glass walls allow confirmation that the receptionist is not yet in and has not witnessed our encounter. “I’m going to have a chat with my father before I go to my office,” he says, holding the door for me.
“I’m actually going to go thank Jessica for shopping for me.”
He gives me a quick nod and turns away, while I head down the hallway toward his office. Derek’s secretary is already at her desk, but as usual she doesn’t bother to even glance up at me, which suits me just fine. Cutting left, I bring Jessica into view and her eyes go wide. “Oh my God,” she says, standing up, her prim navy suit jacket with white trim proving the woman knows how to shop. “I knew that dress would look amazing on you.”
I stop in front of her desk. “I love it. Thank you, but I have a bone to pick with you.”
“He’s my boss. I have to do what he says.”
“You didn’t have to spend that much money.”
“He wanted me to do it and he said you wouldn’t do it for yourself.”
“I wouldn’t have. I wish he wouldn’t have.”
“He wanted to do it. Honey, he cares about you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”
“You’ve known him a year.”
“But I know him better than most. Now. Forget the money. Did I do well? Do you like everything? Because we can return things.”
“What is not to love? You have exquisite taste.” Footsteps sound and I look up to find Shane approaching, the flutter in my stomach at the sight of him impossible to ignore. He’s just so perfect, at least to me.
He stops between me and his door, his hand settling at my back, warming me all over, his head tilting low. “Let me know when my father gets in, sweetheart.”
“Of course,” I say, and he disappears into his office, shutting the door.
Jessica’s eyes light. “You two are so sexy together. I’m jealous.”
I blush and a prickling sensation on my neck has my head turning to the right where I find Derek’s secretary, whose name I can’t even remember, sitting at her desk, and giving me a You tramp kind of knowing look. Embarrassed, and appalled at how unprofessional I look, I turn away, and grab Jessica’s phone, punching in Shane’s number. “Shane,” I say, over the intercom.
He picks up immediately. “Is my father here?”
“I don’t know, but—” I shut my eyes, not sure what I’m going to say. “Never mind.” I hang up.
Jessica’s brows furrow. “What was that?”
Shane’s door opens but I don’t face him. “Come here, Emily,” he commands.
Now, I turn to him. “I need to go to my desk.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
Not a request. I do not like that, but for the moment, I comply with his demand. I march to him and he backs into his office, shutting the door behind me the minute I enter, but I take control. “Don’t order me around with the pretense of work, when it’s personal.”
“How would I know that call was personal?”
“It was. You can’t touch me like you just did at Jessica’s desk here at work. Derek’s assistant just looked at me like I’m a slut.”
I barely get the words out before I’m pressed to the door I just entered. “You mean, don’t touch you like this?” He pulls my dress up to my waist.
“What are you doing?” I demand, grabbing his arms.
“We aren’t at Jessica’s desk anymore,” he says, cupping my sex. “We’re behind closed doors.”
I press my hand to his chest. “This can’t—”
His finger slips under the lace of my pink panties. “Are you sure about that?” He strokes over the seam of my body that is instantly wet, sending a shiver of pure pleasure through me.
“This is so not right,” I say, but I can’t seem to ask him to stop. He yanks down my panties and tears them off of me. “Damn it,” I gasp. “I loved those.”
He shoves them in his pocket. “I’ll buy you another pair,” he promises, and already his fingers are back between my thighs, stroking, caressing, and I stop fighting the pleasure—as if I could anyway. A tight knot is already forming in my sex, spiraling to a peak way too fast.
My head rests on the wooden surface behind me, and he leans close, his breath warm on my neck, his free hand at my waist. “I only wish I could get to your nipples so I could lick them like I did last night.”
Every part of me feels those words and in combination with his fingers, I am panting out, “Oh God. Oh … I’m going to.…” And I do. I come so hard and so fast that it shakes my entire body and I end up leaning forward, gripping his arms.
When I finally blink back to the present, his sexy mouth is curved, and his fingers slide from inside me, and he brings them to his mouth and licks them. “Now, that’s a memory to get me through the day.” He reaches down and pulls my dress down over my hips. “You may go to work now, Ms. Stevens.”
He actually begins to step away and I have no idea what comes over me, but it’s both fierce and daring. I grab his lapels. “Not so fast, Mr. Brandon.” He arches a brow and says, “My turn or yours, depending on how you look at it.” I start to lower myself to the ground, dragging my hands down his body as I do, and once I’m on the floor, my palms flatten on either side of his zipper.
“What are you doing, woman?”
“I’m pretty sure you know what I’m doing, Mr. Brandon.” I stroke over his zipper, and he is harder, but not as hard as I plan to make him before I’m done.
“Emily,” he breathes out, his voice a soft rasp, his expression darker now, but that too, can, and will, be even darker.
I kiss him through his pants and then unhook his belt. “This looks too tight.”
“You don’t—”
“Have to?” I ask, dealing with his button and then unzipping him. “If I had to, I wouldn’t want to. But I do want to.” I push aside his clothes,
freeing him, and his cock juts forward. I wrap my palm around him, stroking down the length and I am aroused all over again. “Why haven’t I done this before? You’re just so overwhelmingly dominant, I never get the chance, but I’m going to change that.” I lean down and lick the salty sweetness pooling at the tip. His intercom buzzes.
“Shane—” Jessica calls out, and he says, “Not now, Jessica,” in a deep command that not even she would ignore.
The room goes silent. “I wish we had more time,” I say, “but I’ll make it fast.” I draw him into my mouth, just the head at first, sucking it, and then swirling my tongue around it.
His hand comes down on my head, encouraging me, and my gaze lifts to his, and the dark passion and desire etched in his stare does all kinds of wonderful things to my body. I want him, but more so I want to be the woman who makes him look like that over and over and over again. I draw him deeper, watching him as I slowly take him inch by inch, pleasure sliding over his handsome face.
My lashes lower, my lips touching my fingers where they hold him, and he is not small. He is long and thick, and he pulses in my mouth, another thing I like. I like it a lot. I drag my mouth up and down him, my tongue in action, my grip at the base of his cock tightening. His breathing is heavier now, his grip just a little tighter. I begin a pumping action, using my hand and my mouth, and gradually getting faster. His hips begin to move with me, and I reach around him, cupping his amazing backside. It seems to arouse him, a soft sound escaping his lips, and it’s a powerful feeling to make a man like Shane Brandon want like I sense he wants. I suck harder, grip harder, lick faster.
“Emily,” he pants, his grip softening, urgency in his voice. “Emily, stop or—”
I don’t consider stopping or slowing down. I hold on. I pleasure him. I take his pleasure and it is mere moments before his grip tightens again and he is shaking, shuddering, and the salty taste of his release touches my tongue. Now I slow, becoming gentle as his body seems to ease into that sated aftermath he’d given me first. When I am certain he is through, I slide my mouth away from him and stand up, scooting my dress into place.
Damage Control Page 20
