26. Brendan
CHAPTER 26
Brendan
M arlowe has proven to be a most excellent hire these past couple of weeks.
Not only does her beauty strike me just as much each day as it did at that first meeting when I crashed and burned, but she’s quickly proving herself to be smart, proactive and competent as an assistant and genuinely excellent company as a human being.
I’ve very much enjoyed putting her through her paces.
We’ve even managed to sneak out to a nearby hotel for a couple of lunchtime quickies where we can really let loose.
Marlowe has put those sessions in my calendar as Contract Fulfilment Assessments, which made me chuckle.
I’ve tried to coax her out for post-work drinks a couple of times, but she’s really dug her heels in around any after-hours socialising.
It pisses me off, but I have no choice but to respect her decisions.
What I haven’t done yet, though, is anything too kinky.
I haven’t needed to, if I’m honest. I’m as horny as a schoolboy just being around her.
As someone who likes my sex the dirtier the better, I’ve been remarkably slow to add in bells and whistles.
The simple knowledge that she’s sitting outside my office and can be summoned into my office to suck my dick at any point is kryptonite enough.
Today, I plan to ramp things up a notch.
I made it clear in my questionnaire and in that first audition with Marlowe that I intend to show her off and work her hard.
I intend to get full use out of my stunning little fuck toy, and I plan to kick things off this afternoon.
I told her yesterday to make sure she came in today wearing the black dress with a flared skirt and the very special underwear I’d bought her: namely some black lace, crotchless panties and the matching lace bra whose cups are held in place by a tiny fastener.
When the fasteners are undone, the centre panels of the lace cups hang down, exposing her breasts.
I really enjoyed helping her try that lingerie set on last week.
After lunch, I had her come and perch on my desk while I indulged in a little leisurely fingering to ensure that she was indeed wearing the panties.
She certainly fucking was.
Aside from that, I haven’t touched her.
I can tell she’s in a state of suspense.
I can tell she’s wondering when I’ll make my move.
She’ll find out soon enough.
Y an drives us across the river, into the City.
I told Marlowe that we were meeting with the head of The Kingsley Group, a global luxury hotel chain that contracts Sullivan Construction for all their London hotels.
I haven’t, however, suggested that this is anything other than a regular business meeting.
Until now.
I’m on a call with my strategy team about the upcoming International Green Building Summit.
It’s a mouthful, but it’s also a massive deal: a gathering of the world's top developers, government officials, and sustainability leaders to address the environmental responsibilities of this industry. This year London is hosting it and Sullivan is being recognised for the carbon-neutral construction techniques it’s pioneered.
The keynote speaker, you may ask?
Yours truly.
It takes a lot to get me excited about a conference, but this one checks all the boxes. It’s fucking gold when it comes to cementing (see what I did there?) Sullivan Construction as a leader in sustainable luxury construction. It’s a huge validation for me and a major fuck you to everyone who’s ever written me off as the playboy Sullivan brother. And, of course, the financial opportunities are sky high. If I get this speech right, we could hit the jackpot on multiple ten- and eleven-figure contracts from governments and developers worldwide.
Yep, this is the big leagues, baby.
That said, I can’t write schmoozy speeches for shit, so my strategy and PR teams are working endlessly on my behalf to craft the perfect keynote. Words like “rhetoric” and other wanky terms are being bandied about far too much for my liking. I’m chiming in occasionally with my opinions, my camera turned off so I can zone out without being busted, and growing sufficiently bored out of my brain that I seek out some light in-car entertainment.
We’re about ten minutes away from the Kingsley Group’s headquarters near the Bank of England. Plenty of time to have some fun. I slide the privacy screen up, separating us from Yan, and flick the intercom off.
‘Open your legs,’ I mouth at Marlowe. Her jaw drops in surprise, and I nod curtly to show her I’m serious. She does as I ask, widening her legs beneath the roomy skirt of her dress. I push the fabric upwards and run my fingertips along her thigh until I find the lovely, exposed spot I’ve been searching for. It’s so warm and soft and wet. So inviting, I could get on my knees right here and eat her.
But I won’t.
I’ll make us both wait.
I mute myself for a second.
‘You’ll have to be a very good girl when we get into this meeting,’ I whisper, pushing two fingers inside her. Her mouth makes an O shape as she takes me. It makes me want to grin, but I don’t. I want her to get the Stern Brendan experience. Because she really is such a good girl. ‘And you’ll have to be very quiet now,’ I continue, holding my phone up so she can see me unmute myself.
For the next few minutes, I toy with a squirming Marlowe as I pretend to give a shit about what my project managers are saying. Really, my focus is on getting to Kingsley.
That’s when the real fun will start.
This is all a test.
That’s what I tell myself.
It’s a test to see if my very expensive new EA with benefits can handle the more extreme parts of her job. A test to see if she’s willing to earn the salary that makes her the most well-compensated person at my company, myself and our Finance Director aside.
It’s a test to see if she enjoys it. To see how much she can handle. Just how filthy she’s capable of being.
It’s not a case of me being a horny, entitled dickhead.
Not entirely, anyway.
MARLOWE
These offices are as opulent, as stylish, as you’d expect for the headquarters of a seriously high-end hotel group. I’ve never been in a Kingsley hotel, not even to have a drink, but I follow them on Instagram and I can confirm that their feed makes me drool.
As my diabolical boss leads me into the sleek lift, I’m still worked up from the way he edged me on the way here. I swear, this man is frustrating. He orders me to wear the most porno set of underwear he bought me, he ignores me all morning, and only on the way to meet one of his most important clients does he start to play. Ugh! I could cheerfully strangle him.
‘What’s the agenda for the meeting?’ I ask him, attempting to pull myself together. He’s cool as a cucumber except for the hand in his pocket fiddling with what I now know is a fidget toy.
‘Just a general catch-up.’ He seems evasive, but then he winks at me. ‘Nothing too serious.’
‘Got it.’
The lift doors open and Brendan ushers me down a wide corridor whose walls are lined with a taupe-coloured linen. At the end of the corridor, a man stands perfectly still, his hands in his pockets. It looks like he’s waiting for us. As we approach, I can see that his hair is somewhere in the dark blond slash light brown region, swept back from his face. He’s tall and lean—less bulky than Brendan—and he doesn’t crack a smile as we stop before him, even though I’m smiling at him in a way that’s more jittery than anything else.
His lack of smile is unnerving.
He’s unnerving.
‘Hiya, mate,’ Brendan says easily.
‘Bren. Good to see you.’ He sounds friendlier than he looks, although his face seems to soften a little as he shakes Brendan’s hand. Up close, his eyes are an astonishing colour—cold and light grey and strangely beautiful—but it’s his impassivity that stands out the most.
‘This is my new EA, Marlowe,’ Brendan tells him. ‘Marlowe, meet my good friend Ethan Kingsley.’
‘Marlowe.’ He turns those eyes on me as he takes my hand. ‘It’s a pleasure.’ I don’t miss the lightning speed with which his gaze darts down my body and back up. I hope he can’t tell that I was halfway to orgasm about three minutes ago.
‘How do you do?’ I ask, but he doesn’t grace it with a response. Instead, he drops my hand and gestures to us to go through to the room beside him.
The space is clearly a meeting room, but it has all the Insta-worthy opulence of the suites on Kingsley’s feed. The walls in here are also linen-lined, but in a dark steel grey that makes it feel atmospheric, despite the brightness of the day outside. There’s a big conference table on one side, a glossy brass bar cart that looks remarkably well stocked, and two white sofas facing each other over a glass coffee table. Several small console tables line the walls, each bearing a vase of beautiful pink-and-white orchids. It isn’t necessarily any fancier than Brendan’s meeting rooms, but it feels far less corporate.
We take a seat, Brendan and I on one sofa and Ethan sitting opposite us. He opens a big bottle of sparkling water and pours us all a glass.
‘So,’ Brendan says, sitting back and crossing one ankle over his opposite knee, ‘how are you holding up since Talia walked out?’
I stiffen. I suddenly realise I know exactly who this guy is, and I have no idea how I should react. He’s the guy Talia was talking about at the Seraph drinks last weekend. The one she said she’d quit on because he was so mean to her. The one Soph is considering as her next boss.
Holy crap.
I mean, he’s hot. Seriously hot. And he doesn’t look like he has a temper. To be honest, he looks cold as steel. But I can imagine that if he pulled that stick out of his arse and let all the emotions he doesn’t show out, it could get pretty intense. He’s intense enough right now.
But I’m not supposed to know any of this. And surely these guys have NDAs? They can’t discuss their Seraph employee.
Can they?
In the split second that it takes for me to panic, Ethan produces an expression somewhere between impassive and unimpressed. ‘Not ideal. I’ve got someone from the admin pool filling in, but she’s not…’ He trails off.
‘Yeah,’ Brendan says. ‘That’s rough.’ He turns to me. ‘Ethan had a Seraph EA working for him. Talia. Do you know her?’
My eyes dart in a panic to Ethan, then to Brendan. ‘Yes.’ I clear my throat. ‘I, um, met her at drinks last week.’
Brendan touches my shoulder. ‘It’s okay, love. He knows exactly who you are and what you do for me. Turns out I was the last fucker in London to cotton onto the Seraph thing.’
Oh my God . This is excruciating. So far, I’ve been in my own little bubble with Brendan. I knew there would come a time when someone else would stumble on the truth, but I didn’t expect to be blindsided like this in a business meeting. It’s beyond horrifying to realise that this stranger knows Brendan is fucking me, even if he’s been doing the same with Talia.
I force myself to look at Ethan. He’s settled back on his sofa, nursing his sparkling water as he openly assesses me.
‘You’re very beautiful.’ There’s no inflection in his voice when he says it. None at all. Somehow, his statement of fact feels more intense, more ominous, than if he gushed.
‘I—thank you?’
Brendan slides his arm around my back so his hand hangs over my shoulder in a way that feels proprietary. ‘Poor Ethan. He’s got no one to fuck because he’s such a grumpy bastard. Meanwhile, I really like watching and I have a sexy-as-fuck assistant who explicitly agreed to being shared in her questionnaire. If that doesn’t scream serendipity , I don’t know what does.’
My mouth goes instantly dry. My palms break out in pinpricks of sweat, and I press them to my fabric-covered thighs. I jerk my head around to see if he’s being serious, and whatever is on my face makes him laugh.
Shared .
Oh my holy fucking Christ alive.
‘So sweet,’ he croons. ‘You know the innocent routine really does it for me, don’t you, love? You’re really not helping yourself when you look at me like that.’
I swallow, beseeching him with my eyes to read my mind and get us the fuck out of here. Besides the fact that I don’t know Ethan from Adam, outnumbered is outnumbered. And it’s three o’clock in the afternoon, for crying out loud!
‘If you have something to say, say it now,’ Brendan tells me with a little nod, and I know he’s giving me an out.
Stop.
I could say it right now and all this would go away. We could walk out of here and I’d never have to see this Ethan guy again. I could excuse myself from any future meetings with him.
But it’s not fair. Because Brendan is correct. I did tick the “group activities” box on that questionnaire. I knew Brendan was into kinky shit, into watching, and I still ticked it with all the desperation of a mother who’ll do anything to get in the door. Land the job. Collect the sign-on bonus.
And now it’s time for me to come up with the goods. If there’s anything that would make me feel even worse about selling myself, body and soul, to Brendan, it would be fucking him over. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least give him what he’s paying for.
Besides—and it’s a very big besides —he might let me off the hook and take me back to the office if I safed out, but it would be a red flag to him. The first time he tries to push the envelope, I bail. I need this job for at least another month, and I told myself I’d do anything necessary to ensure Brendan held onto me.
Falling at the first hurdle is not an option, not when I’m so close to funding Tabby’s operation. Nor is bailing as soon as the going gets tough.
I look at Brendan’s blue eyes, and I realise I know something else to be true. No matter how much he’s planning on pushing me outside of my comfort zone, I trust him.
I really do.
So I give him my answer.
‘I’m good.’