Chapter 15
Tristan
She’s the picture of subservience. Her black mane is pulled back into a tight knot at the base of her neck, exposing a graceful neck and a thin pearl necklace that drapes above the dip in her collarbone. The thin material of her dress hugs every curve, ending mid calf above two heeled black leather boots.
“Do you require assistance?”
She’s taunting me. It reminds me of our night together. Beneath her mannered exterior lies defiance. It’s a fucking turn on.
I have half a mind to force her on her knees. To instruct her to take out my cock and suck me off.
But another urge takes precedence.
I push up from the desk chair, and it rolls backwards. Those eyes question, but her breathiness, the movement in her throat as she swallows, the way her lower lip curls beneath her teeth, they all speak to her body’s desire.
“Stand here.” I point to the space between me and the mammoth desk.
“Do you want me to put away the files?”
“You could say that.”
She sees my smirk. There’s no way she doesn’t. She’s cautious as she fills the space, her back to me. She’s fixated on the ajar office door.
Nervous. Enthralled.
My palm flattens over the curve of her hip. She straightens and wisely removes her hand from the stack of files. My fingers gather the fabric.
I breathe in her sweet, floral fragrance and run the tip of my nose along the nape of her neck.
“I like this fabric.” I continue to gather the material, lifting it higher and higher.
“A Zara special.”
My teeth sink into her bare shoulder and she shudders. “You have good taste.”
She does. She never looks like she spends an inordinate sum on her clothes, but she’s always well put together.
“Put your hands on the desk. Flat.”
“What are you going to do?” She asks, but she’s already obeyed me. She looks straight ahead, trusting me.
I smooth my palm up her thigh to the curve of her buttock. The woman has the perfect ass. It’s not too big, but not flat. She’s got the ass some women pay for. She’s got an ass I would very much like to fuck.
Her dress pools on the edge of the desk where I’ve placed the extra fabric. Both my hands smooth over her thighs, to that delectable behind. And there’s one thing I’m not finding. I back up for a better look, searching for any hint of fabric. A thong. Something.
“You’re not wearing any undergarments?”
“The lines show in this dress.”
Her words suck the oxygen from my lungs. My cock lengthens painfully within its confines. I curl my fingers around her, leaning over her until my erection presses against her, and my fingers find her slit.
Jesus. She’s soaked.
“Should we play just the tip again?”
“If you like.”
But no, it’s approaching six. The cleaning crew will come through shortly.
What I want is fast, rough, and I want her to lose control on her boss’s desk so she never enters this room again without thinking of me. And what we did.
There’s no need to drop my trousers. I unzip the front and release my cock. I give it one firm stroke, then drag my tip through her folds.
“Lean forward a little more.”
Her elbows point out. She follows instructions well when she wants to. Her legs spread, making room for me.
“I thought you said we weren’t going to play just the tip?” She glances over her shoulder, her lips wet. She’s been sucking them, or biting them in her eagerness.
With one thrust, I slam into her. My hands find purchase on her hips.
God, she’s a fucking inferno.
“I’m not playing sweetheart.”
My palm slaps down over the side of her ass as she squirms. She pushes back on the desk. Something tumbles forward. The rug muffles the crash.
She’s so tight. So fucking right.
I slam against her, over and over, positioning her so the desk rubs her clit with each and every thrust.
The desk jerks forward and I pound harder. The stack of folders leans.
The smell of sex permeates the room.
Her mouth opens, and she releases a restrained groan as she tightens around me. Her back arches and I palm her breasts. Tweak her nipples.
My body releases with an unanticipated violence. My lower back tightens as my balls clench and my orgasm strikes so hard the room grows black.
Fast. Dirty. With the door open.
I collapse forward and suck hard on her neck as I spill everything into her.
She flattens across the desk. Once the oxygen returns to my lungs, I slap a palm playfully against her thigh.
“I’m going to be leaking out of you when you walk out of here.”
She pushes up off the desk, and the dress falls to her calves. I tuck myself back into my trousers.
The stillness of her facial features brings the reality into the room. That was fucking stupid.
“You’re on birth control, right?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little late to ask?”
I straighten, tucking in my shirt. I’m a fucking arsehole. “You’re right. I should’ve asked before taking you without a condom. I’m clean. I’ll bring you my paperwork. That was?—”
“It’s okay. If I’m honest, I was pretty aware of what was happening. I wanted it too.”
“Right. And…” She’s right. It’s late to be asking. But she’s wrong in that there are things we can do.
“I’m on the pill. It will be fine.”
The pill isn’t a common choice for the women I sleep with. “Not an IUD?”
She shakes her head slightly, and for a second, her expression appears sad. But, it might have been a trick of light, because I see nothing other than a slight rosy glow as she straightens the desk.
I help with the folders and am pleased with my luck when I see what spilled out of one folder. It’s a memo from one William Salo. A quick glance and it’s nothing of consequence, but it’s an open door.
“Did you know this chap?” I let her glance the paperwork before sliding it into the folder.
“William?” She smooths the front of her dress with her palms. Sadly, her ravishing locks remain knotted in place. Something I’ll need to rectify tonight. Possibly before dinner. “You heard about him?”
“Read something in the paper. What’s the real story?”
“An affair went south.”
“That’s all it was?”
“I think.”
Her brow wrinkles, and she casts her gaze downward.
“Do you know more than you’re saying?”
“I’ll tell you later. I should go before, you know, some of you really does run down my leg.”
I grin, because yes, I am a cad.
I follow her out of the office, and she scurries down the hallway to the lavatory. By the time she returns, our computers are both turned off and I’m holding her things.
“You just assumed I’m done for the day?”
“Are you not? No one else is here.”
“Someone’s here. I promise you. And you shouldn’t assume I’m done.” The glare she throws my way tells me I’d better straighten my act if I’m going to get another chance to fuck her tonight. And I’d like to fuck her again. Maybe in the shower. I’d also like to have her coming on my tongue.
“Will you grace me with your company tonight over dinner? Please.”
She acquiesces and I follow her out, careful to remain a step behind so I can watch that bare ass flex beneath the flimsy dress.
The security guard sees exactly what I’m looking at as we pass. He raises one eyebrow, as if questioning me. I respond with a self-satisfied smirk.
It’s not until we’re seated at a small intimate bistro that our conversation resumes. In the candle lit light, she’s stunning. There’s a soft glow to her cheeks, and I rather like possessing the knowledge of the carnal activities that provided the energized glow.
“What?” Her question brings me out of my daze.
“Admiring your beauty.”
One arm crosses below her breast while she holds the wine glass out in front. Defensive. She doesn’t trust me and I suppose that’s entirely understandable.
“What do you know about William Salo?” Her question takes me by surprise. It’s precisely the direction I need to head, but it’s rather intriguing she was thinking about the man, too.
“Not much.” I sip my wine, studying her dark brown eyes, nearly pitch black in the shadows. Her skin is smooth. There’s no sign of distress.
“Did someone mention him to you?”
“Nelson Peltz mentioned him as I’m taking over some of his responsibilities.” I swirl my wine. She said earlier it was an affair that went south, but there was far more to it. How much does she know? And why does she know it? “Did you know him well?”
“He was one of Mr. Peltz’s two downs, but he was up for a promotion. It’s really sad what happened because he was going to get the promotion.”
My skin tingles. Lucia might have exactly the information I need to track down who Salo was working with. If it’s Peltz, then all that remains is finding the evidence.
“Mr. Salo was relatively new to Lumina, right? Less than a year? Who was championing his meteoric rise within the company?”
“Are you seeking a similarly rapid rise to the top?” Her flirty smile would be delicious if I didn’t feel so close to valuable information.
“I won’t need a champion to rise to the top.”
She narrows her eyes. “Are you sure about that?”
The hidden innuendo is my parental connection, and that takes us down a far less useful path.
“Are you protecting someone?”
“Huh? No.” She sets her glass down on the table and shifts her chair forward. “Everyone liked William. He was effective and, by all accounts, a good manager. I get the sense Mr. Peltz isn’t your favorite, but he’s adept at management. He knows far more about what’s going on within his department than you might suspect. And, while William hadn’t been there long, he worked for an entity we owned for years and he’d done great work there.”
“Is that right?”
His HR file hadn’t mentioned his prior work, although we’re quite aware of the connection.
“Mr. Peltz has me take notes sometimes in meeting with HR.”
“With Graeme Shoemaker?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“He has a lot of meetings with Mr. Shoemaker, does he?”
“They’re good friends.” She taps her short trimmed nails on the white tablecloth. “We weren’t surprised to learn that William was cheating on his wife. There were rumors before the incident. But, we were all surprised…that you know. I suppose it’s a lesson to men who cheat.”
“Ah. You mean because his mistress…”
“Took a knife to his eye. Who does that?”
“Right. I can only think of one body part that would be worse.”
She laughs in amusement. Clearly she’s unaware that it was determined to be self-defense. But, then again, the details of the incident never reached the Geneva news. And why would they? William Salo was a nondescript middle manager that came into some trouble over holiday. The local police force shared few details with the media as the investigation is ongoing.
The question I need answered is, does Lucia remember Sloane Watson? And how did she end up answering her sister’s phone call? Our dinner arrives before I can segue into those questions.
She bites into her Cordon bleu de poulet and releases a sensual moan that distracts from the case and brings me right back to what we were doing earlier. And I remember her chosen form of birth control.
“So, the pill? It’s not a common choice here, is it?”
“My mother was Catholic.” She shrugs.
“Wouldn’t that mean no birth control at all?”
“Perhaps.” She cuts a piece of pasta with the side of her fork. “Marriage out of wedlock definitely not on her approved list. But, I don’t know…I guess when I chose a birth control method, I…” Her voice trails, and she sets her fork down. “I moved to stay with my mother’s cousin when I was in primary school. Aline, that’s my mother’s cousin. She encouraged me to choose the pill. Said it would help with cramps and it would make my mother happier. I was so grateful to her, I would have done anything she said.”
“Grateful?”
“She took me in. She didn’t have to.”
“What happened to your mother?”
She inhales, and her lips tighten. “She passed away two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I moved to Portugal when I was nine years old and never saw my mother again. I always thought…one day.” The sadness in her expression finagles its way into my chest.
“Am I to take it she didn’t send you away to Portugal for the education?” That’s why I’d been sent off to boarding school at the ripe age of thirteen.
“No.” There’s something about her expression that tells me she’s on the brink of sharing more. “Can we not talk about the past?”
“Certainly.”
“Just know that I take the pill diligently every single day.”
“Good to know. And, I apologize for?—”
“No need to apologize. I wanted to…do what we did.” Her gaze drops to her lap. It’s curious how she transitions from uncertain to confident. “And I still want to… as long as we keep it between us. I can’t lose this job.”
“No one will ever know. I promise.” As I say the words, I mean them, because now I understand more about her situation. She needs this job and I have no intention of her losing it over a violation of a non fraternization clause in an employment contract. If someone leveraged her need of a job, if I can get her to open up, to tell me what she knows, then perhaps I can protect her. She might be a useful witness.