Chapter Twelve
Ten minutes later he ended the call. The fact that he had secured the board approval for his plans did little to lighten his mood. Fury simmered just below the surface. Far too many caveats and restrictions had been imposed to declare it a full victory. And he was uncomfortably aware that his entire scheme was perched on the increasingly shaky premise that he could control Verity.
The scene that greeted his eyes as he returned to the lounge almost ignited that fury into full blown rage. Far from the aggressive displays of dominance he’d been expecting, the disparate band of known thugs and hooligans had come together in a loose circle of chairs. In varying states of undress they chatted happily, their comments interspersed with loud shouts of laughter.
Two of the hostesses were down to their knickers and heels but Verity, by contrast, was sprawled comfortably in the lap of one young buck and remained fully clothed. Indeed, it seemed she had managed to add a suit jacket to her standard ensemble, and what looked like a chauffeur’s hat, cocked at a jaunty angle over one eye.
She peered at him over the top of the cards she was holding, her expression both guilty and mischievous.
Cross circled round to the chair where she was sitting and leaned on the back. “Good evening Gentlemen… and ladies . What do we have going on here?”
“Cards Mr Cross,” replied one individual. “Poker,” he added, unnecessarily.
Cross dropped his gaze to Verity and she was quick to raise a defensive hand.
“Strip poker,” she said. “No money involved.”
“And yet you don’t appear stripped?”
That comment provoked a volley of laughter before one member of the party, clad in nothing more than a strategically placed sock, recovered enough to say, “This lass is a devil at cards. Hasn’t lost a hand!”
Fingers tightening on the back of the chair Cross forced a smile. “I feel I should warn you gentlemen, that this lass cheats at cards.”
To his annoyance, another gale of laughter greeted his words.
“We’re all cheating, Mr Cross, but she’s still winning.”
“Did you want us to deal you in?”
Cross shook his head. “Sadly there are other matters that require my attention. And I’m afraid I must steal this young woman from your game.” It further increased his annoyance that the second statement prompted a far greater display of disappointment than his first.
Without a word of protest Verity extricated herself from the embrace and got unsteadily to her feet. With an apologetic smile she returned the various items of clothing she’d acquired to their original owners and waved farewell to the party. Cross tapped his foot with impatience but he waited until they were safely concealed within his office before he rounded on her.
“What was that about?”
Her eyes widened in an expression of exaggerated innocence. “What?? They wanted to play cards.” She gave a lopsided shrug and teetered a little on her heels. “I like cards.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
She blinked. “A few. They offered and it seemed rude not to.” She frowned up at him. “Am I not allowed to drink on the job?” Then the frown melted away as she bit her lower lip and gazed up at him from under her lashes. “Have I been a bad girl?”
Wrong footed by her shift in attitude he stalked past her towards his desk. “I’m merely concerned that you don’t slip back into bad habits.”
Hands raised, she wiggled her fingers. “These haven’t been anywhere they shouldn’t. Promise.” She leaned back against the door and lifted her eyebrows, throwing him a sultry look. “You can frisk me if you want?”
Definitely inebriated. Deciding that he’d rather see the end to this wretched day than engage in an unsatisfactory bout of simulated intimacy simply to make a point that she was, no doubt, too far gone to even acknowledge, he pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket, intending to pay the damn woman what she was expecting and send her on her way.
To his surprise, she took the wallet from him and placed it on the side table.
“Now I’m curious to see what cards you’re holding,” she murmured, placing one hand on his chest and urging him back into the armchair.
Despite his earlier intention, he allowed himself to follow her lead, cautiously intrigued by this new role she was playing, and wondering how far she would take it.
She stood in front of him for a moment, toying with the bottom button of her shirt, her eyes following the length of his limbs as he settled back and tried to give the appearance of a relaxed hauteur he really wasn’t feeling.
“You have an excellent poker face, Mr Cross.” A grin kicked up the corner of her mouth, “Let’s see what we can do about that.” Her expression turned into something darker as she sank to her knees and crawled between his spread thighs. Her teeth worried the swell of her lower lip she gazed up at him and Cross felt himself stiffen and swell as she ran a hand up his inseam.
Grinding the heel of her palm into his balls her grin returned. “Now that feels like a straight flush to me.” Shifting her weight back onto her heels, she dropped her hands into her lap and then oh so slowly ran them over her hips, up her ribs to cup her breasts, “And here’s me left holding a basic pair. I guess that means I need to take something off…”
Hypnotised by her movements he watched silently as her fingers traced lightly across her chest and plucked at the buttons of her shirt. With a graceful shrug she let the garment slide from her shoulders and pool behind her on the floor. Freed from its embrace she moved towards him again and Cross felt his breath catch as she climbed over his thighs, her knees braced either side of his hips.
With infinite patience she steadied herself against his chest and sank slowly into his lap. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as she rolled her hips and he found he needed to concentrate surprisingly hard on remembering how to breathe. Then the angle of her hips shifted until she was grinding against his erection and she leaned forward. “I think someone’s holding a full house,” she whispered into his ear, “and I can’t beat that. Whatever should I take off next?” Not waiting for an answer she unhooked her bra and let it fall to the ground.
Determined to take back some measure of control he slid his fingers under the tight hem of her skirt and forced it up over her hips revealing the delicate scrap of lace she wore beneath. With a snarl, he ripped the gauzy fabric away from her skin and tossed it across the room.
Verity gave an exaggerated pout. “Oh! I liked them!”
Fumbling to free his now painful erection he growled, “I’ll buy you more.”
“You’d better,” she replied and then hissed in a breath as he lined her up roughly and manhandled her onto the straining head of his cock.
Cross felt his thoughts reel as he sank the first inch inside her. She felt like salvation and damnation. Warm and wet and impossibly tight. Fingers digging into her hips with enough force to bruise he held her motionless as he battled the wave of sensation sweeping over him.
She whined and wriggled above him, pleading for more and with a vicious grin he pulled her sharply down, revelling in the shriek she gave as he impaled her fully with a swift upthrust of his hips.
The sensation of being fully encased within that scalding, silky clutch nearly sent him over the edge, and he held her firmly, preventing any further escalation until he’d recovered at least a modicum of control.
Feeling marginally calmer he relaxed his grip and allowed her to set the pace. With a groan she lowered herself deeper onto his rigid length and slowly began to build a steady rhythm. Hands on his shoulders she quickened her strokes, that same mocking smile returning as his hips jerked in response.
Pushing her fingers away he grabbed her hips and changed the angle. “Touch yourself,” he growled and was gratified that for once she obeyed the command without question, her fingers sliding down to the vee of her thighs and circling her clit.
As the force of his thrusts increased, so did the pace of her fingers and Cross felt a surge of triumph as her back arched and she threw her head back with a moan.
The moment vanished as she leaned forward, dug her fingers into the arms of the chair and locked eyes with him. In a move that he knew some whores who would give up the last of their fading youth and beauty to learn, she swivelled her hips, tilting her pelvis to an angle that dragged the rippling wave of her internal muscles over the straining head of cock, tearing his climax from him with a hoarse shout that surprised even himself.
At least, she gave a slight wince as she lifted herself from him, he thought. It might have been quite the performance, but maybe she hadn’t emerged entirely unscathed and untouched. That satisfaction ended as she gave a bright, fake smile and tucked him back into his pants with a sharp pat that forced an involuntary jerk from hips.
Smile growing broader, she tilted her head. “Money please.”
His legendary self-control weakening for a moment, he snatched the bills from his wallet and threw them at her feet. Unhurried, she stepped past them, reaching for her shirt and taking her time to reassemble her appearance before squatting down to gather up the casually discarded payment. She made a show of counting every last note before folding them neatly in half and tucking them away in her bra.
“See you Friday, Boss,” she said, with a mocking wink as she sauntered to the door, rock steady on her heels, any hint of inebriation miraculously erased.
Cross remained frozen for several long seconds, rigid with fury, then very slowly, very carefully, he poured himself a glass of brandy with an almost steady hand. Watching the thick liquid cling to the crystal sides of the glass, he circled his wrist and fought for calm. He’d thought the money would be enough to bring her to heel, but it wasn’t proving so. If anything she’d found a way to make that feel like a leash around his own neck. One he’d woven himself.
This could not be allowed to continue. She had to be controlled or she was useless to him. The memory of that wink ignited the fury he’d been trying to tamp down and with a snarl he hurled the glass at the wall. If she presented that attitude to Valentina and the rest of the board, he’d be a laughing stock and would swiftly find himself replaced.
Why was he permitting her to act out like this? He’d had people dismissed, if not killed, for lesser crimes than mockery? He sighed as he poured a second glass. Perhaps that was the problem? It has been so long since anyone had truly challenged him, at least to his face, part of him was relishing in the game.
But he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted like that. Her behaviour needed to be addressed and fast. Raising the fresh glass to his lips he savoured the quiet burn to his throat as he swallowed. Calm now, a cold smile creased his lips. Maybe he’d invite the Russians over for the evening on Friday? That might provide just the demonstration he needed to bring her in line.