by Elise Noble
“Better?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Piers is watching us.”
“Who cares? I’m Veronica, and I can do whatever the hell I want.”
She grabbed his lapels and pulled him closer, then made him choke when she dropped one hand and palmed his half-hard cock. Fuck.
“Perhaps not that, eh?”
“Why not?”
“Because…” When she squeezed, any reason—let alone a good one—escaped him.
“Because what?”
“Because I’m your boss, and this counts as abuse of power.”
“No, no, this isn’t abuse. This is fun. I deserve some fun after pretending to be nice to all those people, don’t I?”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?”
Two toned legs wrapped around his waist, and her hand left his lapel and hooked behind his neck, dragging his lips down to meet hers. Bloody hell, what had he created?
“This is a bad idea.”
“No, it’s a great idea. And technically, you’re not my boss right now because I don’t start until Monday.”
When she kissed him, he didn’t protest. Couldn’t protest. The lipstick had long since worn off, left behind on a succession of wine glasses, and her lips were soft and silky as they pressed against his, her tongue sweet yet insistent as it caressed the seam of his mouth. He yielded. Her breath came in uneven little gasps, and she shuffled forward on the balustrade to grind against his thigh. A monster. He’d created a monster.
Piers was struggling with his conversation now, more focused instead on what was happening outside. Cold fish? Yeah, right. Beth was more responsive than any woman Alaric had ever been with, as evidenced by his cock straining at his fly. But he mustn’t take advantage of her.
“Beth…”
“Veronica. Tonight, I’m Veronica.”
“I don’t want you to hate me in the morning.”
Now she looked up at him, so sweet, so innocent, those baby blues surprisingly clear.
“I could never hate you, Alaric. Give this to me. Please?”
He was gonna go to hell for this, but he couldn’t stop himself. One hand slid up her smooth thigh, under the folds of black silk, all the way to her centre. He stroked the back of one fingernail lightly over thin panties, barely prepared for the jolt she gave.
“Do it, do it, do it,” she whispered.
He took stock of the situation. Most of the action was shielded by bushes. Nobody but the small group of men in the corner could see them at all, and only Piers seemed interested in what was going on. Could he see where Alaric’s hand was? Not in graphic detail, but he surely knew.
Did Alaric care? No, he fucking didn’t. If Piers wanted Beth, he should have taken better care of her when his ring was on her finger.
“I’m gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
Alaric nudged the flimsy scrap of satin aside and found her soaked. If they’d been anywhere but a birthday party, his cock would’ve been inside her like a cruise fucking missile, but they were where they were, so he had to make do with a finger. A finger that circled and pressed and stroked as she squirmed in his arms, making noises he’d replay in his dreams for the rest of his damn life.
“Almost there?” he murmured.
“Yes. So…close.”
He slid his middle finger inside, teasing the orgasm out of her, and as she went over the edge, eyes closed and mouth open, he turned her head to face Piers. The prick had given up on any attempt at conversation, and his expression was a mix of shock and anger. Perfect. Alaric muffled Beth’s soft scream with a kiss and held her tight as she melted against him.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I… I… It’s never been like that before.”
“It should be like that every time.” Movement inside caught his eye. “I hate to tell you this, but it looks as if they’re about to serve the cake.”
“Dammit.” She got to her feet, swaying on shaky legs. “I’m not certain I can stand on my own.”
Gentleman that he pretended to be, Alaric smoothed her skirt down and then offered his arm, even though he wasn’t entirely steady himself. “I’ve got you. Five more minutes, and we can make a run for it.”
“In five minutes, I’ll still be staggering.”
Step by step, they made their way back into the living room. Someone had lit the candles, all sixty of them, and as they crossed the threshold, a chorus of “Happy Birthday” started. Piers hadn’t moved. Nor did he make any attempt to stop staring. What was the matter? Had he never seen a woman come before? For once, Alaric didn’t have a smart retort, his brain fried, but Beth helped him out as they passed.
“Close your mouth, Piers. You look like you’re about to suck a dick.”
Yes, an absolute monster.
CHAPTER 30 - BETHANY
WHAT WAS THAT pounding? For a moment, I thought someone was at the door, then I realised I had a bell, not a knocker, and the pounding was in my head. How much had I drunk last night?
The evening came back in fits and starts. My father’s rudeness towards Alaric. Andromeda’s awful laugh. Piers’s cruel words. An orgasm on the patio.
Wait.
What?
Bloody hell, what had I done?
I closed my eyes and saw him. Felt him. Heard him. Alaric holding me. Alaric kissing me. Alaric whispering sweet filth in my ear. Alaric’s finger inside me. Hot damn. I wanted to believe it was all a dream, but when I rolled out of bed to check, the mess in my knickers suggested otherwise.
My groan filled the bedroom. Drunk me, stupid me, had convinced my hot boss to finger me. At my father’s freaking birthday party. In front of my ex-husband! If it hadn’t been for Chaucer, I’d have climbed into my car and kept driving until I hit water.
What was I supposed to do? This job was meant to be a fresh start, a way for me to get out of my financial quagmire, and instead, I’d taken the opportunity and left it quivering on a stone balustrade at my parents’ house. Thirteen years of school, ten GCSEs, five A levels, a first-class honours degree from Oxford, and I’d still turned out dumber than a box of rocks.
Was there any possibility of salvaging this? What if I apologised profusely and offered to sign up for Alcoholics Anonymous? Or volunteered to work from Judd’s home like the previous assistants while wearing a chastity belt? Or… Or…
Holy crap, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. If my behaviour hadn’t been enough to send Alaric running for the hills, then my appearance would certainly have done the trick. Streaks of mascara tornadoed around my eyes, my hair stuck out in all directions, and it seemed that at some point, I’d tried to refresh my lipstick and missed my mouth entirely. Demented clown, reporting for duty. I was still wearing last night’s dress, and when I screwed my eyes shut and thought really hard, I vaguely recalled Alaric carrying me up the stairs and depositing me under the duvet.
What did one buy a man as an apology gift? Aftershave? Too personal. Candy? Too thoughtless. A book? I had no idea what he liked to read. A bottle of wine? Don’t you remember what landed us in this mess in the first place, dumbass? Okay, so definitely not wine.
Think logically, Beth.
First, I’d have a shower. Then I’d go to see Chaucer and use the trip to brainstorm the best way to grovel. When I got back, I’d buy an appropriate gift, and then I’d call Alaric. If he felt anything like I did this morning, he’d want a lie-in, and by the afternoon, hopefully he’d be nice and calm. Yes, that would work.
Or at least, it might have done with any other man.
The first phase of operations went well. I swallowed two paracetamol tablets, shaved my legs, and took a shower. Wrapped my hair in a towel turban. Brushed my teeth. Put on moisturiser. Walked back into my bedroom.
Then screamed.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Alaric was sitting in the armchair by the window, ankles crossed as he sipped something delicious-smelling from a to
-go cup.
“I was worried about you. First you didn’t answer your phone, and then you didn’t answer the door either.”
“I was in the freaking shower!”
He looked me up and down, a slow perusal before he caught himself and snapped his soft brown eyes back to my tired ones.
“Yes, I heard the water, but if I’d gone away and come back again, your coffee would’ve gotten cold.”
“Wait, wait…” I gave my head a shake as if that would somehow dislodge a cotton wool ball or two. “You’re in my house. You’re in my bedroom. How did you get through the door? Doors. There are two doors.”
“Peggy let me in the outer door.”
“Peggy? Who the hell is Peggy?”
“Your neighbour on the second floor. You don’t know her?”
“No, this is London. Nobody talks to each other.”
“You should. Peggy’s a doll. She’s gonna bring you a marmalade cake later this week.”
“I can’t even… It’s too early for this, and my head hurts.”
“Have you taken painkillers?”
“They’re no match for you.” I was on the verge of an Alaric-induced migraine. “What about the inner door? It was locked. I’m sure it was locked.”
“Your lock’s a piece of crap. Yeah, that’s got to go. And you need a door chain. I’ll send Ravi over.”
“No. No, no, no, no, no. It’s not even nine o’clock. I’m wearing a towel. I can’t deal with this right now.”
“Want me to pick up breakfast?”
“I feel sick.”
“Hangover?”
“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
Except what an utter fool I’d made out of myself last night. That was pretty clear. And now Alaric was sitting in front of me, calm and unruffled, and how did he look so good anyway? No bloodshot eyes, no dark circles, and he’d even managed to coordinate his navy-blue cashmere V-neck with his loafers.
I sank onto the bed, head in my hands.
“I didn’t know whether you took cream or not, so I got your coffee black.”
“Coffee? I can’t even think about coffee.”
“You need to stay hydrated.”
“At this precise moment, withering away and dying seems like an attractive option. How can you act so normal? Do you not remember anything about last night?”
“I do.” Alaric’s tone went from kind to serious. “And I’m sorry. So, so sorry, Beth. I let things go further than they should have, and I took advantage of you, and… All I can do is apologise and promise that it won’t happen again.”
“What? You took advantage of me? I was the one who got drunk and…and…you know. In front of my freaking ex. Do you think Piers saw us? Did he realise what we were doing?”
“You were in his line of sight as you came. He saw your face.”
“I’m not sure that would’ve helped—I faked it every single time with him, so he has no clue what a real orgasm looks like.” Dammit all to hell, what was I even saying? “Could you just forget you heard that part?”
“Forget? Not exactly, but I can bury it deep.” Now it was Alaric’s turn to look horrified. “That came out wrong. It wasn’t meant to be an innuendo, I swear.”
“Listen to us. Just listen to us. This must be the most embarrassing, cringeworthy start to a new job ever. Uh, do I still have a job?”
“I was worried you’d quit before you even started.”
“I need the money.”
“Right.” He got to his feet, five inches taller than me now that my Louboutins were lined up neatly in front of the wardrobe. How had they got to that spot? Had he put them there? “I should go. Now that I know you’re okay.”
And because I was still wearing a flipping towel. I tugged the bottom edge towards my knees and squeezed my thighs together tighter, not that it did much to curb the ache between them.
“So, uh, where should I go tomorrow morning? What time do I start? Is there a dress code?”
“Do you remember where Judd’s place is? I pointed it out in passing, but…”
“I remember.”
“You’d better meet him. Wear a nun’s habit or a burka.”
“And what if I don’t own either of those?”
“Jeans. Flat shoes. A sweater that buttons right up to your chin.”
“Is Judd really that much of a womaniser?”
“For some unknown reason, they seem to find him irresistible.”
Yet it had been Alaric who made me melt yesterday. And not just me. I’d seen the way the other women in the room gazed at him. Andromeda had practically rolled out her tongue like a drool-covered red carpet.
“I’ll resist him.”
“You haven’t met him yet.”
“Do you trust me?”
Alaric had asked the same question last night, before he delivered in the most spectacular way possible. And I hadn’t lied in my answer. I did trust him. I might have only met him a few days ago, but he… I… I couldn’t explain it. Alaric was a rock, an anchor, and he held me steady. And also frustrated the crap out of me.
He nodded. Reached a hand towards me, then realised what he was doing and hastily shoved it into his pocket.
“I trust you.”
“Then know that I’m not interested in being Judd’s latest plaything. From tomorrow, I’ll be the consummate professional.”
Alaric gave a faint smile. “I should let you get dressed. Are you still okay to travel this week?”
“I’ll start packing today. And I also need to clean the flat and ride Chaucer.” And get Alaric’s testosterone away from me so I could think straight. “So…”
“In that case, I’ll, er, leave you to it.”
“Thanks for the coffee.”
He turned to look over his shoulder as he exited my bedroom. Did he catch me staring at his backside? I sincerely hoped not.
“Any time, Beth. Any time.”
CHAPTER 31 - ALARIC
“WHERE ARE YOU?” Alaric asked, his phone pressed to his ear. Albany House was such a maze of rooms that it was easier to call Emmy than hunt for her.
“Second floor—well, third if you’re being American today—in what was once the DVD library.”
Alaric took the stairs two at a time, trying to remember whether he had to turn left or right when he got to the top. He needed a map. After one mistake which landed him in an empty bedroom, he heard voices from the other side of a door.
“You need to relax.”
“Then stop using me as a fucking pincushion.”
Dare he look? He pushed open the door and found Emmy face down on a massage table with a tiny towel covering her ass and a row of acupuncture needles sticking out of the muscles on either side of her spine. A small Chinese woman glared at him as he approached.
“Bonjour,” Emmy said, her voice muffled since her face was stuffed into a padded hole.
“Bonjour. Ça va?” He asked how she was out of politeness.
“À quoi ça ressemble?”
How did it look? Well, he didn’t envy her.
“Plutôt vous que moi. Pourquoi parle-t-on Français?”
“Parce que Ling ne parle pas Français.”
Ah, they were speaking French because Ling didn’t. Ling, presumably, was the sadist with the needles, and Emmy didn’t want her listening in on the conversation. Since Emmy wouldn’t allow anyone she’d decided not to trust into her house, that must mean that Ling was new and the jury was still out on her loyalty.
“Bad back?” Alaric asked, sticking with French.
“I tweaked it jumping out of that house the other day. Ling’s part of Bradley’s ‘new and improved’ well-being program.”
“It can’t be both new and improved.”
“You know that, I know that…”
“What happened to all the DVDs?”
“Bradley edited the collection, moved half of them to the snug on the next floor, and repurposed the rest as coa
sters. He took some of those to the office, and there were a few raised eyebrows when Zander flipped one over and found that copy of Horny Hungarian Hookers you got me for a Valentine’s joke. Anyhow, shall we get down to business?”
With Emmy staring at the floor, Alaric had the opportunity to take a good look at his ex. The Hungarian hookers hadn’t been a patch on her. Still weren’t. Emmy had been fit before, muscular and athletic, but she’d bulked up just a little more. Every part of her was sculpted, and either she’d been somewhere hotter than England or Bradley’s program included spray-tanning. Alaric suspected the latter. Emmy never had time to sunbathe.
Was that scar on her arm new? Yes. She always got the bigger ones smoothed out, so either she considered the mark too small to bother about or she hadn’t gotten around to visiting her surgeon yet. Emmy had always cited vanity for the retouches, but Alaric knew that wasn’t it. She just didn’t like to let on that she might have chinks in her armour.
“Business…yes. Stéphane Hegler. Do you want to go first or shall I?”
“I might as well. Mack’s had a dig around, and—”
Emmy didn’t get a chance to finish before Ling interrupted.
“You tense.” She pointed at a second massage table, the twin of Emmy’s. “Lie down.”
Alaric held up his hands. “No, I’m fine. Really.”
“You hunch shoulders. Shirt off.”
Emmy started cackling. “It’s pointless arguing. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“How about I come back later?”
“Don’t be a pussy.”
“Tell me Black isn’t here? Because if he walks in and finds me half-naked…”
“Relax, he’s still in Belize. I half expected him to come steaming back, but common sense seems to have prevailed for once.”
Before, the man had half-heartedly attempted to keep his jealousy under wraps, but now that he and Emmy were an item, he didn’t bother to hide it. Black staked his claim at every possible opportunity, even though there was no need. Now that the pair of them no longer had an open marriage, Alaric wouldn’t touch her.
Ling was standing with her arms folded, waiting, and Alaric sighed and peeled off his sweater. Emmy turned her head to look at him, resting it sideways on her folded arms.
