Chapter 10
Quinn
I t’s just after dark and pouring rain as I dash out my front door with a Quinn’s Cakes box in hand. I’m making a run for the Uber that’s waiting for me at the curb, when a black SUV screeches up like a giant bat out of hell.
The rear door opens and Harlan lunges out, grabbing me.
I shriek in surprise.
“It’s me,” he says, like that’s supposed to make me feel any better.
“Um—but—where are we going?” I splutter, as I find myself moving involuntarily toward his vehicle.
“Get in the car,” he orders.
“But… my Uber rating…”
“Get in the car, Quinn,” he growls, propelling me there with his man strength.
The uber driver puts his window down, craning his neck, probably to see if I’m being abducted.
“Sorry!” I shout at him. “I have another ride! I’ll five-star you?—!”
Harlan tosses me into his backseat and follows me in, slamming the door. I barely hold onto my cake. He takes the box from me and sets it on the floor, on the far side of him, as we pull away from the curb.
Then he crowds me in, leaning all into my space.
The black separator is up, so I can’t even see Manus or whoever is driving.
“Where are we going? Did I just get kidnapped?”
“I’m asking the questions,” he says, fuming. “Where were you going just now?”
Why is he fuming?
And what is he doing, showing up out of nowhere to snatch me off the street?
I haven’t seen him in almost a week. According to him, I was never supposed to see him again.
I take a moment to catch my breath, trying to calm my pounding heart, but it’s impossible to stop the heat that rushes to my face in embarrassment as he stares me down.
“To your house,” I admit.
He blinks at me, raindrops clinging to his dark eyelashes. He swipes a hand over his face. “My house,” he repeats angrily.
“Yes. I made you a cake.”
He glares at me, incredulous. At least his furious breathing is slowly getting under control.
“A cake?”
“Yes. That box you practically threw on the floor? It’s a thank-you cake.”
Now he looks even more pissed. “What the hell for?”
“Jeez. Don’t they send you to, like, etiquette school or something when you grow up rich?”
His dark eyebrows twist irritably.
“Manners. You could really work on yours, you know.”
His nostrils flare like an angry bull as he inhales deeply. “What is the cake for, Quinn?” he asks, a little calmer and maybe five percent nicer.
I’ll take it. Baby steps.
“I wanted to thank you for what you did for me. You know, arranging that job for me? I know you were trying to help. It was… considerate of you.”
“You were supposed to start there tonight,” he growls.
“I know.”
“But you blew off the job. Why?”
Seriously? That’s what he’s so riled up about?
“Because it’s at a sex club, Harlan!”
He clamps his mouth shut and fumes in silence, the computer upstairs working overtime.
“Yeah. You should be ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed,” he says darkly.
Okay, now I’m annoyed.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. The situation you put me in was embarrassing . Your assistant Brant put me in touch with this very nice woman named Monique, and I met her at a café downtown. She was so lovely, we chatted, she told me how highly recommended I came, and how happy she was to welcome me to the club. I signed the NDA she brought for me, and then she told me all about the job. Wherein I’d be serving cocktails to rich sex fiends in the fancy bar at a sex club called Bliss.”
“There is no way she said ‘sex fiends,’” is Harlan’s calm reply.
Oh, now he’s coolheaded?
“I’m paraphrasing!”
“It’s a completely safe work environment. The waitresses aren’t there for sex. Club members know that.”
I frown. “You seem to know a lot about it…”
He frowns back. “It’s my brother’s club.”
“Are you a member there?” It just slips out before I know it’s going to. Because I’ve been dying to know.
I can’t believe he actually answers. “No. But there are rules in place. You won’t be preyed upon. I wouldn’t have you work there if it wasn’t safe.”
“That god complex of yours is really shining through again.”
His eyebrows furl. “God complex?”
“I can’t work there, Harlan,” I say firmly. “It’s not who I am.”
“What? A waitress? The employment contract is clear. I read it. You’ll serve drinks, that’s all.”
God. He does not listen well.
“Even if I wanted to work there, I wouldn’t. It’s all the way over in West Vancouver. When you said you arranged a job for me at some private club, I assumed it was downtown.”
“What’s wrong with West Vancouver? The club is in a very exclusive, upper-class neighborhood, and has rigorous security. You’d be safer there than working anywhere else in town.”
“I’m sure it’s very posh. But I can’t afford the commute time or the expense. I have to rely on transit and Uber when my car breaks down, which is often.”
He considers that. “I can provide car service as part of the deal.”
Is he for real?
Yup. He seems deadly serious about all of this.
I still don’t understand why.
I shake my head. “No. I… I don’t want to make a deal. What I’m saying is thank you, but no thank you.”
A muscle along his jaw spasms, and he skewers me with those switchblade eyes of his. “You’re being stubborn.”
“I’m being independent. In other words, true to myself.”
“No, you’re being obstinate.”
“You know what? This is on me. It was my mistake for trusting you.”
His gaze drops to my lips. “Mulish.”
Okay, now I’m getting pissed. “I never should’ve let you arrange a job for me. I’m perfectly capable of finding employment myself.”
“Employment that pays as well as Bliss?”
“I already found another waitressing job,” I inform him, sidestepping that. “It’s much closer to home. And I won’t have to worry that any of the clientele mistake me for a sex worker. We actually get to wear pants while we serve people alcohol. It’s revolutionary.”
I’m actually kind of bracing myself for his wrath. I can’t imagine he enjoys my sarcasm.
Instead, he seems to be struggling to process what I just said.
Then he says the weirdest thing. “Are you still angry with me?”
I struggle to understand where he’s coming from. He’s got me spinning in circles again. “About what, exactly?”
“About losing your job at Crave.”
Huh. I thought we were ramping up. But he doesn’t seem quite as furious anymore.
“I… it’s not that I loved working at the bakery.” Ugh. Am I getting into this, really? “I needed access to the ovens, okay? Justin let me use them, to bake cakes for my own business on the side. That’s why I was so upset to lose the job.”
Harlan stares at me for a long, intense moment. Calculating.
“Are you still angry?” I ask him.
“I’m not angry. I’m regretting my decision.”
I’m not sure what decision he means, so I wait for more as he silently simmers, looking gradually less angry.
“I should’ve offered you the job Savannah suggested in the first place,” he says tightly. “At the Crystal hotel, in the restaurant. It was a baking position, and you could waitress there, too, if you wanted. It was the perfect job for you.” He adds solemnly, “I’m sorry. I should’ve given you that opportunity. I’ll call her immediately, and have it set up.”
He stares at me expectantly, like it’s all wrapped up now, and he’s waiting for that thank-you cake.
“I just told you,” I say carefully, “that I don’t want to make a deal. I don’t need you to find a job for me.”
“But it’s the perfect job,” he repeats. “I can make sure you’re allowed to use the ovens to bake your cakes.”
Well, shit.
Do not cave to temptation, Quinn.
This is just the same damn situation I had with Justin, isn’t it? Though possibly worse.
I can’t owe this man anything for doing favors for me.
I can’t rely on him and his network.
I need to be strong myself.
“I don’t think you understand,” I say softly. “I’m not taking any job at the Crystal. My friend Nicole works at Champagne nightclub. They’re hiring wait staff right now, and they scooped me up. I’ll be okay.”
“But what about the oven situation?”
“I have an oven.”
He blinks at me. “That ancient relic in your kitchen that’s not even attached to the wall?”
“It’s reattached now,” I say stubbornly.
He shuts his eyes for a second, and I have no idea what’s going on.
“I’m sorry you can’t work at Crave anymore,” he says. “I shouldn’t have bought that bakery.”
He seems sincere.
I sigh. “Why did you, really?”
He opens his eyes, and locks onto mine again. “I told you.” His voice is low and unexpectedly warm, like silken, melted chocolate. “Because you worked there.”
I don’t even know what to say as heat coils in my gut and spreads throughout my body.
He wants to keep me close, is that it? Somewhere that’s under his control?
Somewhere he has access to me, knows where I am and what I’m doing, can even have me driven to and from?
Is that what this is all about?
He drags a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. “I’m truly regretting buying that bakery.” Then he grits out, “I screwed up.”
Wow.
I can’t imagine he admits that very often.
“Harlan Vance. Was that the first time you’ve ever uttered those words?”
“It might be.” He adds in a rough voice, “Don’t get used to it.”
“How can I get used to it when we’re never seeing each other again,” I deadpan.
A fraught silence stretches between us.
He’s sitting closer to me now. So close, I can feel the heat off his body. And the tension in his muscles.
How did we end up so close?
I can see every fleck of darker gray in his dark-gray irises, every slight line at the corners of his eyes. Every perfect, dark eyelash.
I can feel his warm breath on my skin.
I can smell him under his clothes; faint soap, and warm, naked male.
“It’s okay.” My voice is soft, the words choked with longing. “You probably did me a favor. I was kidding myself that I could keep working with Justin.”
His eyebrows draw together. “You don’t want to work with him anymore?”
“Why would I want to work with him?”
He stares at me as my heart pounds.
His eyes are on my lips again. I can practically taste his hunger.
“You said you don’t like me…” I whisper.
“I know.”
“Harlan… are you obsessed with me or something?”
His eyes meet mine, darkening.
His voice is dangerously low, almost vicious, when he says, “I am not obsessed with you.”
“Oh… kay,” I say, the way a little bird might agree with a wolf who said he wasn’t going to eat her.
Then he scoops me up in his arms, drags me onto his lap, and kisses me.
My whole body catches fire.
I’m in Harlan’s strong arms, and he’s kissing me . I’m breathless as we smash together, sucking, tasting. He buries one hand in my hair, and the other grabs my ass. He drags me closer, shifting his hips under me—so I’m sitting on his erection.
Oh my god. He wants me.
What the hell am I doing right now?
I can’t stop making out with him as if my life depends on our bodies fusing together. Red flags be damned.
He groans. And breaks the kiss.
“Tell me you broke up with him,” he pants against my lips.
“I broke up with him.”
I did. The day after he stood me up for the last time.
The day after Harlan said goodbye to me.
His lips are so fucking luscious, and I dive back in. I bite his lip, and he groans again.
His hand slides under my dress, and grips my thigh, hard. It’s like he’s trying to resist sliding it higher.
“I can’t get involved with you,” he says huskily, even as his other hand holds me trapped against his thick hard-on. And now he’s making out with my neck, licking the pulse point on the side.
Mixed messages much?
“Uh-huh…”
“I’m no good for you, Quinn.”
“I’m… aware…”
“Even though you no longer work for Vance Industries…” he says between sucking on my throat, then my lips, “I told my family I stopped seeing you. It’s important… they believe… I’ve distanced myself from you. You know, cut all ties…”
“That’s fine,” I say breathlessly as we suck face. “I never asked you… to wander around town with me… holding hands…”
“But you can’t just show up at my house… and pry into my life,” says the man with his hand up my skirt and his mouth on my throat again.
“Uh, I didn’t.”
His eyes, gleaming with lust, meet mine. “You were coming over with cake.”
“You showed up and threw me in your car!”
When he doesn’t have a comeback for that, he kisses me again. With a lot of tongue, and so much hunger it takes my breath away. I melt around him like caramel.
“I need to fuck you,” he growls. “Please, let me fuck you.” His hand slides deeper up my skirt—and grabs my panties.
“Oh. Whoa. Okay, um… we’re in your car. Can we, just… go somewhere…”
I don’t want to say, go to your house so you can grope me in private , when he just told me not to show up there. I have no idea where we are. For all I know, we’ve been driving in circles.
I really don’t want to do this in his car, with a driver three feet away.
But I really want to do this.
The way he just said please and fuck made my insides melt and my lady parts gush. I squirm in his lap, trying to keep space between my pussy and his fist, which is gripping my panties like they’re denying him a delicious snack and he’s fucking starving.
He draws a breath, his chest rising as he collects himself.
Then he releases my panties, regretfully.
He reaches to press a button. The black divider slides down, revealing Manus in the front seat.
“Oh, shit,” I squeak, feeling vulnerable now that Manus can see me, all wrapped around his boss.
Harlan dumps me off his lap.
He drags his hand through his hair and orders his driver, “Take us home.”