Chapter 5
Chapter Five
PIPER
Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.
No way is this happening.
It can’t be him. How can it be?
It’s not possible.
My brain can’t catch up to what my eyes are seeing, and there’s coffee everywhere—across the gray carpet, my dress, and the toes of someone’s very expensive shoes.
All I can do is stand there with my hands shaking and my heart hammering so hard I’m sure all of New York can hear it.
And…
God, it’s really him.
Mr. Wicked.
The same man I left sleeping in silk sheets this morning, in his fortress in the Hamptons.
He’s sitting at the opposite end of the table, directly in my line of sight. And that sinful smile—the one he wore as he dared me out of my dignity—is still on his face.
I never thought I’d see him again. I definitely didn’t think I’d see him looking even more devastatingly handsome in a tailored suit.
And here? Right here in a glass-walled office on the forty-second floor of Vale Global.
What is he doing here?
Someone clears their throat; I’m not sure who. The sound yanks me back to the present disaster.
I dropped the coffee. It’s my first day here, and I look like a complete klutz.
This was supposed to be my fresh start.
Not whatever this is.
Shit.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out, dropping to my knees.
My hands fumble for the mugs— one cracked, three went rolling, and the fifth is somehow still standing upright like it’s mocking me.
Coffee soaks into the carpet, coffee soaks into my tights, and every pair of eyes in this room is on me. Especially his.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again. “I’ll get a cloth. I’ll—”
“Don’t worry about it.” The voice that answers is older, and warmer than I expect.
I glance up and meet the eyes of the man at the head of the table. He looks like he could be Mr. Wicked’s… father?
Same eye color, bone structure, and olive-toned skin.
Oh my God.
Come to think of it, the guys sitting around the table all look alike.
Brothers maybe.
Beautiful, intimidating brothers with expensive suits and the kind of confidence money can’t buy unless you’re born into it.
Like the Vales, Piper?
Shit, shit, shit. The realization nearly knocks the air from my lungs.
Jesus, what kind of wrong turn did I make?
“Are you alright?” the older man asks. If I’m right, he must be Jeremiah Vale.
“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you. I apologize again. I’ll clean this up.” I scramble to my feet.
“Not to worry. I’ll get the cleaners to sort it out.”
“Thanks, I’ll bring fresh coffees, then, right away.”
Before he can answer, I abandon the mess because staying here one second longer might actually kill me.
I head back to the door, my head bowed like some servant in a period drama. I don’t look back. I can feel Mr. Wicked’s eyes on me, though. Like he’s enjoying this far more than he should.
Of all the crazy things that could happen to me today, I never thought this could be one of them. I left his home hours ago, went back to my apartment, and got ready for work.
How was I to know he’d be at my new job, and that he could possibly be a Vale?
Of course, humiliating myself in front of strangers wasn’t enough. Fate had to make him powerful too.
Oh my God. I press a trembling hand to my heart. Any second now, it’s going to leap out of my chest and flee from the building.
What am I going to do?
And I have to go back in there with the coffee. I’m not even supposed to be making the coffee. I offered to because the secretary training me on the admin systems needed to take an important call.
I reach the breakroom and head over to the espresso machine. The sleek black counter shines beneath the recessed lighting as I lean against it. My hands are shaking so much I can’t even pick up a mug.
“So, this is work?” comes a voice from behind me. His voice.
Every nerve ending in my body sparks awake and my spine goes ramrod straight.
Slowing my breathing, I turn to face him.
Seeing him up close leaves no room for doubt. It really is him.
And now that we’re alone, all I can feel are his hands on me, his mouth tasting my skin, and him… buried deep inside me.
The memory tightens my chest like a fist is clamped around it.
Unsure of what to do, I get lost in a kerfuffle of bringing my hand back to my chest, then resting it at my side, then it’s back on my chest seconds later. Shit, I don’t know what to do with myself.
“I… I didn’t know. I didn’t know who you were.”
I didn’t know I was climbing into bed with a man whose surname carries just as much power as the big celeb families in the country.
And I still don’t know his name.
He steps closer, stopping a pace away. He tilts his head in that casual kneel-down-and-worship-me manner as a grin slides across his lips.
“Levi Vale,” he says, looking me up and down.
God, I was right. He’s a Vale.
Levi Vale. As in Vale Global, the renowned investment company where I hoped to spread my roots and grow. It was supposed to look good on my resumé, a foot in the door for a future where I hoped to get into marketing.
How in the ever-loving fuck did I manage to have a one-night stand with a man who’s practically my boss? How?
This is the kind of thing that happens in messy TV dramas, not to me.
“You’ve gone pale, Butterfly.” His voice drips with amusement.
And Butterfly... The name hits differently now, with more menace.
More ownership too. But maybe it always sounded like that, and I was too fascinated with him to tell.
“I should go.”
His grin widens. “Thought you were making coffee.”
I look back at the machine. “Oh. Yes. Yes, I am.”
“What’s your name?” His voice deepens, and the potent interest in his eyes grows. Like knowing my name suddenly matters.
I stare at him as if he just asked me to speak an alien language.
But all he did was ask me my name. The one element of secrecy we weren’t supposed to disclose.
My mind empties. I struggle to think.
My name.
We’re not playing games anymore. This is real, and I have to give him my name.
“Piper,” I stutter, my hands finally drifting to my sides. “Piper Andrews.”
As soon as I give him my full name, a look I can’t quite read flashes in his eyes. If I were to guess, I’d say it was more than captivation. It reminds me of how someone would look when they finally got answers to questions they’ve been searching for.
The intensity of it sends more unease twisting through me.
“Nice to have a name to a face,” he answers, leaning closer.
With his eyes locked on mine, he takes a few more steps toward me. He was already too close. I shouldn’t mind considering all the ways I gave myself to him last night. Closeness should not be an issue between us, yet it feels suffocating.
Not because I don’t want him near me. Because I do.
He moves even closer.
Instinctively, I step backwards. The movement makes him smile and his eyes darken. My nerves are on fire and I fear what will become of me if he touches me.
I didn’t realize I was still moving until my back meets the wall. I don’t even know which wall. Did I move left or right, up or down the room?
A quick glance around him, and I note the coffee machine is across from us. Levi grins.
Levi. I have a name to a face now, too. The name suits him, but in my head, Mr. Wicked still suits him best.
He rests a hand on the space just above my head, blocking me in. It’s funny; last night when we were on the rooftop in the hot tub, naked, I never even thought that someone could come along and catch us. Now we’re fully clothed, and I’m worrying about someone coming in and seeing us like this.
The door is open. Anyone important could see us. Then they’d be wondering what the hell is going on.
Why is the new girl pressed up against the wall with Levi Vale?
I don’t think he cares. He certainly didn’t last night.
My breath wavers. He notices that too. I can tell by the slow flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as his gaze drops to my lips the way it did last night before he kissed me.
He moves in, as though he’s going to do exactly that, but he goes to my ear instead.
“Looks like we’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other, Butterfly.” The words should sound harmless. Instead, they land like a dangerous promise.
His warm breath fans over my cheek, spreading heat through my entire body. It drains the last of the air from my lungs. “Welcome to Vale Global.”
I turn, and my cheek meets his. He then shocks me by brushing his lips across my skin. It’s not a kiss, not exactly, but it feels like one.
He pushes away, then he turns and walks toward the door, leaving me there. Breathless.
I watch him go. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t need to. He knows the lasting effect he’s had on me.
I can’t move. I’m not sure if I should.
I hate to be negative when I fought so hard to get to this point, but it looks like I’ve fallen down another rabbit hole.