“Shane, I really—”
“You’re a good actress. Because I bought all that innocent, sweet bullshit, and thought you were actually honest. I thought you needed help.”
“Let me go,” I hiss, shoving at his chest, furious now myself.
His hands settle on my ribcage just beneath my breasts, scorching me inside and out. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“I didn’t know who you were.”
“And yet, as you pointed out, you just happened to be at the security desk when I came downstairs.”
“I didn’t know who you were,” I repeat. “And I needed this job.”
“How much did he pay you to fuck me? Do you get a bonus for doing it again?” His hands slide to my breast.
“Stop!” I shove at his hand, punching his chest. “Stop it damn it, or I’ll shout.”
He steps back from me, holding up his hands. “Whatever, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.” I hug myself, feeling violated by a man who had made me feel special last night. “And you’re the good actor. I actually thought you were charming and sexy and now I just think you’re an asshole.” I turn and reach for the door handle. He’s behind me in an instant, his hard body pressed against mine, my hands flattening on the wooden surface. “Stop,” I whisper, and damn it, I flashback to us naked, touching, kissing, and how good he’d felt. How right when he was obviously very, horribly wrong.
His hands settle at my waist, one finding my belly and flattening.
“I read you so wrong.”
“If you say so,” I choke out, emotion balled in my throat.
He turns me around and worse than touching me, he isn’t touching me. His hand settles on the door, above my head, and those gray eyes I’ve seen blazing with heat, are now pure ice. “I do say so.”
“I’m not what you think I am, Shane, and I need this job, but if I’m fired, just say so and let me start looking for another.”
“Mr. Brandon to you. Remember that.”
“Then you remember I’m not your ‘sweetheart.’”
“Until you’re paid to be, right?”
“Like I said. How did I not know you’re such an asshole?”
“The same way I didn’t know you’re—”
His intercom buzzes and Jessica says, “Seth is here and he says it’s urgent.”
Shane squeezes his eyes shut, the lines of his handsome face all sharp edges and anger.
“I was what?” I demand.
His lashes lift, his eyes hard, and even colder than before. “Like everyone else. And this conversation isn’t over. Meet me at seven o’clock tonight in the parking garage.” He pushes off the door, grabs me and turns me so that my back is to his front, his hand back on my belly, his head lowering, intimately close to mine as he orders, “Be there.” Then he reaches around me and opens the door.
A moment later, Shane is no longer touching me and a tall, intimidating blond man in a suit is standing in front of me, blocking my path. “Excuse me,” I say. And damn it, he doesn’t move, his hard stare fixed on my face.
“You’re Brandon Senior’s new secretary.”
I have no idea how he knows this and right now, I really don’t care. “And I need to get back to work,” I say, and then repeat, “Excuse me.”
“Emily,” Shane says, his voice radiating along my spine. “Make sure you do go back to work.”
I don’t turn. “Yes, Mr. Brandon.”
The man in front of me eyes him over my head and several beats pass like hours, before Shane gives the okay for him to release me. Finally, he steps aside and I am free to go. Only I’m not free at all. Not even close.
I don’t wanna be a product of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me.
—Frank Costello
CHAPTER NINE
SHANE
I watch Emily round the corner, adrenaline coursing through me like liquid fire and acid, and I slowly become aware of Seth and Jessica staring at me. Forcefully, I shift my attention to them, Seth is arching a brow at me while Jessica stands at her desk, holding on to it and looking confused and concerned. Obviously, I haven’t been discreet and I have no option but to offer an explanation. “She found herself inserted between me and my father,” I explain, and I’m really damn ready to know the details.
“Oh no,” Jessica says. “Shane, she’s new and I promised to help her learn her boundaries.”
“A little late for that, I’d say.” I’d laugh at the irony of that statement if every muscle in my body wasn’t clenched thanks to the scent of Emily’s perfume clinging to my clothes.
“Should I—” she begins.
“No,” I supply. “My father wants his deal memo. Tell him I read it and he can go fuck himself.”
She blanched. “Shane, not even I can—”
“Tell him I’m still reviewing it.” I motion to Seth and walk into my office, making a beeline for the window, where I stand, arms crossed, and will the adrenaline coursing through me to calm the fuck down.
Silent seconds tick by, and I can feel Seth at my back, just as I can feel Emily’s presence in this building, like she were standing right here next to me.
“What just happened?” Seth asks.
Yes. What the hell just happened? I’ve made a career out of reading people, and I don’t know how I got it wrong with Emily—unless I didn’t get it wrong and I was just a total dick. Whatever the case, there is too much on the line for me to be a fool with this woman, and yet, when I turn to face Seth, I go another direction. “I went to see the ‘other woman,’ as you called her. I offered her double what my mother’s paying her to give us the same information she’s giving my mother, but my mother isn’t to know.”