Chapter Six
Verity ran her eyes over the sparse office and fought the urge to tug her skirt down. Her uniform had been laundered, pressed and returned to her in immaculate condition, even her shoes had been repaired. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought they’d swapped it out for a brand new outfit. But she did know better. She could tell by the fit that it was hers.
She’d deliberately chosen a skirt that was a couple of inches longer and fractionally less tight than those worn by the rest of the staff, as a form of camouflage. She’d found the male gaze was quick to move on to more obvious displays, and her sartorial decisions had afforded her a certain amount of invisibility up to now. Sadly, with no one else in the room, she could feel the gaze from this particular male wandering up her legs without distraction.
The office itself was very reminiscent of its owner. Sleek, understated elegance with no visible information left on display. The uncluttered, hardwood desk boasted the exact same sharp edges and corners as the man seated behind it. And it was all very, very masculine.
To one side she noticed an alcove containing a wide double bed and without thinking she asked, “Do you live here?”
Cross followed her gaze and shook his head. “No, but sometimes I have company who deserve better than simply being bent over my desk, and I prefer not to extend invitations to my private flat.”
“Oh. So, just a convenient fuck-shelf.” She winced - shit - she really had to get a grip on her mouth. She still had yet to find out the penalty for her extra-curricular activities, and pissing him off wasn’t going to help.
But to her surprise Cross seemed amused rather than annoyed by her summation, an expression that could almost be considered a smile flashing for a brief moment across his face. Then it was gone and the predator gaze returned. She swallowed hard. Surely if he was intending to do her physical harm he’d have left her in the white room - somewhere easy to clean. But he was hard to read and impossible to second guess. Maybe, he was just lulling her into a false sense of security before his wrath descended.
Deciding she’d rather just know her fate than drive herself mad by trying to imagine what he had planned, she folded her arms and jerked her chin. “So, what now?”
He hummed quietly and leaned back in his chair, templing his perfectly manicured fingers beneath his chin. “I have been considering how our individual goals might be achieved. And I believe we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
Verity’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds suspiciously reasonable.”
He uncurled to his feet and moved around the desk towards her. It took every ounce of her willpower not to back away as he approached. Jesus, he was tall. Even in her heels he still towered over her.
“You’ll find I can be eminently reasonable, when the mood takes me.”
This time Verity couldn’t suppress the sharp snort of laughter at that suggestion. Cross? Reasonable? She’d heard him called many things over the last year, but reasonable wasn’t one of them.
Continuing as if she hadn’t interrupted, he reached out to stroke a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, his touch leaving a warm tingle in its wake. “You need a way to meet your financial obligations each week and I…” He paused for a moment, as if considering his words. “And I need a distraction. Someone accommodating and… motivated.” If she was in any doubt as to his meaning, the immediate shift in his attention from her face to her breasts would have eradicated any lingering questions.
To her unending shame she felt her nipples stiffen beneath his gaze. Worse than that, the grin now stretched across his face told her that her reaction had been noted.
Determined not to make this easy for him, her mouth flattened into a harsh line. “That seems like a high price for a quick fuck. I’m sure there are any number of your employees, of all genders who would be happy to accommodate you with no expectation of recompense.”
His lip curled. “Don’t be naive, there are always expectations. This way, they are stated up front. No misunderstandings. And who said anything about it being quick?” The smile turned darker, tinged with menace. “Trust me, you’ll earn your money.”
Verity wet her lips, still fighting the urge to take a step back. “So, what exactly are your expectations?”
He gave a light shrug. “You make yourself available to my needs, whenever they might arise. Day to day, you’ll work the top table and help entertain my guests. Privately you’ll entertain me.”
“You want me to move in?”
He gave a harsh laugh. “Good God, no! Your work rota will remain the same, and if I have need outside of those hours, I’ll send a car. The rest of your time is your own.”
“As long as I’m available at a moment’s notice when the whim takes you.”
“Precisely.” He withdrew his wallet from his pocket and casually extracted a crisp wad of twenty-pound notes. “And in return, I will ensure you have sufficient funds to meet your loan obligations in full and on time.”
Verity glared at the money in his hand. She ought to take those notes and fling them in his face! Who the fuck did he think he was? But her hands didn’t move. The offer was enticing, she decided, she shouldn’t be hasty, she needed to think about this. But the thoughts that immediately surfaced were not the ones she expected and she realised to her horror, that it wasn’t the cash that was tempting her, it was the hands holding it. What those hands might feel like caressing her skin or thrust deep inside her.
Hoping he hadn't noticed the blush she could feel creeping up her throat she dragged her eyes from those sinfully long fingers and scowled at him. “I don’t give head.”
The folded wad of notes remained unmoving between them. “You’ll do whatever and whoever I wish.”
She folded her arms. “Let me rephrase. I have a wicked gag reflex. If you stick your dick too far down my throat, I’ll vomit on your beautiful, bespoke shoes.”
“And then you’ll be expected to clean them.” He turned away, placing the money on the corner of the desk. “For future reference, I insist on a military shine.”
“You seriously think I’m going to agree to being whored out whenever you want?”
“Please.” His lip curled in derision as he resumed his seat. “I’m not asking you to do anything you haven’t done before. Perhaps this time, with proper guidance, you’ll be more successful.”
Despite his chilly demeanour, Verity was frustrated to feel a sudden rush of warmth pooling between her thighs. Beating down that inappropriate reaction, she raised her chin. “And if I say no?”
He glanced at the slim, platinum watch on his wrist. “In which case, I estimate you have about four hours until your next payment becomes due, and I wish you good luck meeting that deadline. I understand the ‘late penalties’ are severe.”
Verity closed her eyes. The rational part of her brain was screaming at her to get the hell out of there, but one hushed voice remained, suggesting that this might be just the opportunity she’d been waiting for. For whatever reason, she chose to listen to the quieter voice and schooled her features into an exaggerated expression of boredom.
“Fine. I agree.” She reached for the top button of her shirt. “I assume you want to try before you buy. Where do you want me?”
He watched silently as she undid the rest of the buttons, one corner of his mouth curling into a smile as she tried to hide her hesitation before sliding it from her shoulders. As she fumbled for her bra hook he waved her away with a dismissive hand.
“I have to work this afternoon, so this will not be necessary.”
Wrong-footed by his abrupt rejection, she awkwardly gathered up her shirt and clutched it to her chest. “So what now?”
“Now you take this.” He held out the wad of notes once again. “Pay your debt, enjoy what’s left of your day off and I’ll see bright eyed, bushy-tailed and ready to start tomorrow afternoon. Usual time.”
Unsure if she was feeling relieved or disappointed, Verity hesitated. “And what if I just take this and run?”
“Then I’ll hand over all the information I have to the police on the theft of a certain watch and they can take it from there. Although, you and I both know that Micky’s men will catch you first, and ￡800 is a small price to pay for the certain knowledge of what will happen when they do. Either way you won’t be my problem anymore.”
She stared at the thick wad of notes in his hand as if expecting them to erupt into flame. Giving herself a shake she scrambled to make one last stand. “And what about my wages and… and tips?” She winced, she’d almost managed to sound calm, but her nerves had broken through at the last moment, rendering her tone down to a whine rather than a demand.
With a sigh, Cross got to his feet once more, stepped closer and closed her fist tightly around the money. Raising it to his lips he said, “You will receive your wages as usual and any tips freely given are yours to keep. But I find these fingers wandering anywhere they don’t belong,” he paused and then punctuated the rest of the sentence with a light kiss to each individual knuckle. “I’ll break… every… last… bone… in your hands.” He stepped back. “Do we understand each other?”
Verity gave a tight nod but wisely said nothing further.