Chapter 4
Geneva
Of all the sights I might have expected to encounter beyond that beat-up door in that little hole-in-the-wall office space in the dogshit section of downtown… Rick wasn’t it.
When Uncle Chest had told me where to go to start my internship, I’d done a double-take. Where he was sending me seemed to be the last place I’d expected to end up. In my mind, I’d pictured some soaring office tower of glittering glass, filled with beautiful people with even more beautiful personal networks—and, most important, job prospects.
Instead, I’d found myself in a place that looked more like an old set from one of the film noir movies I used to watch with my uncle. Any second, Powers Boothe or Robert Mitchum might come shambling out, looking like they’d slept in their disheveled, sweat-stained suits, and between drinks from a cracked, dirty crystal tumbler, waxing laconic about dames, bad booze, and scheming wives that left them for better men.
“Um, hi?”
“I thought you were Jeanie? But you obviously aren’t her. What the hell is this?” His voice grew gravelly. “You get some sort of kick out of using a fake name at the club?”
I frowned, unsure what he was getting at. Who was using a fake name? Then it hit me. “Oh! I see the confusion. Yeah, no, I go by Genie—with a G, not a J. Like the genie in the bottle. Rub me the right way, and all that.”
I cringed so badly at the words, I feared I might actually turn inside out.
My God, you’re an idiot.
His dark eyes were flinty in the harsh light of the incandescent lamp at the corner of his huge, battered desk. “Tell me this is some sort of joke.”
“I was going to say the same thing.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder, desperately attempting to regain some semblance of poise. “Did I… am I in the right place here?”
I can’t fucking believe it. It’s him!
Rick put his arms on the desktop, lacing his fingers together. My mouth went dry. Those hands again. What could such powerful hands do? To a little female five foot nothing?
Stop it, bitch. You need to back the fuck out of here, right now. Not indulge in some weird perving about an old dude’s hands.
“Well, this presents a problem, don’t you think?” He sighed, picking up his cell phone, his thumbs tapping away at the screen. “I mean, I didn’t expect my intern would be the same girl who?—”
“Wait.”
He looked up at me. “What did you say?”
You cannot be seriously considering this, Gen.
“We’re the only two people who know we’ve met before. I guarantee Uncle Chest didn’t.” I took a deep breath, trying to summon up the courage that seemed to have abandoned me as soon as I’d laid eyes on the frustratingly good-looking man. “So… why should it matter?”
“Because we know we’ve met.” But he set the phone down on the desk. “How can you be my intern when we, well, you know…”
“Nothing happened.”
“No?” His gaze flashed. “I do want to know something though. Before I send you away for good.”
“O-okay.”
“What did you think you were doing flirting with a man like me? A man at least twenty years older than you? Did you think that would end well, or was it just garden-variety showing off for your little girlfriends?”
Asshole.
“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t mean anything by it.” It was a lie, of course. I really did want to see how he’d react. If he’d pursue me, if he’d get angry at me for flirting so blatantly. I wondered then—and I still did—if teasing him… would provoke him.
Provoke him into what? Chopping you up into pieces and throwing you into the trunk? What the fuck has gotten into you?
“You may not think it matters, but I assure you, girl, it does. Just how old are you, anyway?”
I’d never felt so awkward about revealing my age. In that moment it was as embarrassing as letting a man see the number on my bathroom scale the day after I’d eaten all the food at Chipotle following a close encounter with my girlfriend’s bong. “Ah, I’m… twenty-one. Sir.”
He watched me for a second. “At least you have a little bit of sense in you.”
“Pardon?”
“Sir is the correct way to refer to me. Especially here.”
“Oh…” I tried to ignore the tiny little jump of my clit, and the subtle tightening of my pussy at his words.
“I’ll call Chester. Have him come pick you up. This would never work.” He hit the red dial button on the screen, putting the phone to his ear.
“No—wait. Please?” I took a step toward him, keenly aware of how close I’d drawn to his desk. Even at just a few feet away, I could sense his body heat, his immense size making my breath catch in my throat.
“Can’t we just give it a try? A trial run or something?”
What I didn’t say—and intended to take to my grave—was that I had thought of Rick often since that night. More than once, I’d berated myself for not getting his number. How many times had I played that scenario in my head? Simply asking him if he’d like to have a drink sometime. In a place that wasn’t a meat-market night club.
It didn’t make any sense though. He just wasn’t the usual type of dude I’d have normally taken a second glance at. He was this big, burly, hulking man, his huge barrel chest and silver-frosted stubble something that hadn’t ever piqued my interest before.
Stop lying. Yes, it has.
In my fantasies? Okay, maybe. But most of the guys I’d hooked up with over the years had been various permutations of either pretty boys, or quasi-emo ‘deep thinkers’—who’d turned out to be nothing more than sullen man-babies who couldn’t so much as pick up a check, or even open a fucking door for their woman.
But with him? And those goddamned hands… it was different. A lot different. His personality was one I would have normally been repulsed by—or so I’d told myself. He was brusque, arrogant. While I wouldn’t have called him cold, he could be dismissive—something that not only pissed me off, but intrigued me too. More than I wanted to admit.
It was an unexpected combination of looks and surprising male magnetism that I had no idea how to handle. Or resist.
I didn’t like the thought, but it had crossed my mind that my seeming fixation on him might have had a least a little something to do with my past.
Uncle Chest wasn’t actually my uncle, not by birth anyway. He was my stepdad’s brother. Chest had been left to raise me when his brother had been killed, and my mom was no longer in the picture. She’d lost custody of me long ago.
While Uncle Chest had taken good care of me, he was never much of a… nurturing sort. I’d understood it too. Many men just weren’t wired for it. But I appreciated what he could give and was grateful for it.
Standing there before his desk though, I’d seen something in Rick that the dim lighting and surrounding storm of distractions of the club hadn’t allowed me to notice before. There was an air about him. That he was a powerful man—both physically and in every other sense of that term—was as obvious as a heart attack. And that power had a draw, a pull on me, I’d never, ever experienced before with any man.
Just being in his presence, I felt like a foolish, silly girl. Wasn’t I supposed to be this strong, modern boss bitch who could take on anything? Well, sure, I could be that. But with him? Why was I so confused and upside down about him?
Because with him, none of that take charge boss bitch shit seems to fit anymore. Not even a little bit. What does that say about you, Gen?
I shook my head, as if that might help me regain my bearings. He’d gotten me badly off-balance, in mere moments, and I needed to get it together. “Look, I’ll do anything you need. I really do want this internship. I know this is… a little weird, considering the circumstances. But… will you at least, I don’t know, give me a chance?”
Thankfully, Rick ended the call, slipping the phone into the breast pocket of his impeccable slate-colored suit. The man most definitely knew how to dress, that was for sure.
“If I do this, there will be… conditions. Are you listening?”
I straightened my back, growing still, demonstrating that I was focused on him like a laser. “Absolutely.”
Why are you suddenly so fixated on his approval?
I’d have to chew on that one later. I was sure I wasn’t going to like the taste either.
“What I should do is march your round little ass out of here, take you by the ear to Chester’s, and drop you off at his door. You shouldn’t be here, especially after our little tête-à-tête at Marco’s club. But because Chester is a friend, I’ll allow this. For now.”
“Thank you, Rick.”
He made a noise uncomfortably close to a growl. “That’s one of the conditions.”
“What is?” I suddenly felt as if I’d swallowed a sock.
“You don’t get to use my name. You haven’t earned that privilege yet.”
“What? Are you seriou?—”
“Be quiet. I meant what I said. It’ll be ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Trafford’ to you. Got it?”
“I… yes, Mr. Trafford.”
“‘Sir’ was better.”
“Don’t push your luck,” I said, my heart trip-hopping faster. It was unwise to poke the bear, but I just couldn’t help myself.
“The other conditions. You do as you’re told, when you’re told, in the way you’re told. No questions, no backtalk, no smart-assery. Got it?”
“Yes, Mr. Trafford.” I didn’t like the way my nipples hardened at the edge in his voice.
He leaned back in his chair. “If you don’t do exactly as you’re told, there will be consequences. And you will submit to them without protest. Just because you’re an intern, doesn’t mean you aren’t subject to the same rules as all of my other employees. Got that?”
I couldn’t help but wonder what those consequences might entail, and the temptation to ask him was so keen I nearly groaned with it.
I really didn’t like what that was doing to my pussy, the lips now slippery and tingling.
But fortunately, he didn’t give me the chance to get myself into further hot water.
“Now—out of my office.” He plucked his phone out of his pocket, thumbs awhirl upon the screen, the man no longer even looking at me. “Chloe will show you where everything is.”
Understanding that I was being dismissed forthwith, I scurried to the door, determined to get out with what was left of my dignity.
“Stop right there. Turn around.” His voice brooked no disobedience, and the fluttering in my stomach at his tone was both demeaning, and had me shivering for reasons I didn’t want to examine too closely.
I faced him once more. “Yeah?”
He scowled at me. Not using his ordered form of address was my little way of showing he hadn’t cowed me completely. Not yet, anyway.
Oh, who are you fooling? You’d kneel at the side of his desk and eat out of his hand if he told you to. The thirst is strong with you.
“That top you’re wearing. Unacceptable.”
It was the first truly hurtful thing he’d said. “What are you talking about? This is one of my favorites.”
“It’s a schoolmarm costume.” He flicked a finger upward. “Collar goes practically to your throat. Covers up too much.”
Too much?
“What? I don’t?—”
“This is the second time I’ve told you. No back talk. Do as you’re told. Lose the top.”
My mouth suddenly as dry as a desert creek bed, I picked at the top button of the navy blue silk blouse.
“No, not here, silly.”
“Oh…”
But I’d caught him watching for just the briefest of moments. Had he considered simply letting me go through with taking off my blouse right there in front of him?
And you were about to do exactly that! Don’t you think that might be the bigger problem at hand?
“If you’re going to work for me then you’re going to wear the proper attire. Another condition. You take the number that I’m about to give you and go get the approved wardrobe for this job.”
Though I wasn’t quite sure why I would ever agree to such a thing, I marched to his desk. “I’ll do it.” I held out my hand.
For a heartbeat, his dark, intense gaze coursed over me, a smile hinting at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, I know you’ll do it. Or I’ll make sure you regret disobeying me.”
What does he think you are? A dog?
But what his words were doing to my insides had me thinking of something quite different than a dog.
Sure. How about a bitch in heat?
His palm wrapped about my entire hand as he shook it. It stunned me into silence at how tiny my hand looked in his huge one. For a moment, it was as if we were both transfixed by the sight.
Then he broke the spell, pulling out a drawer, the wood squeaking. Slapping a spiral-bound tablet on the desktop, he scribbled something on a piece of paper. The ripping sound as he tore the page loose echoed in the office. He held the paper up to me, and I took it.
“Get out of here,” he growled, spinning around in his chair, his back to me. “Don’t come back until you get the right clothes.”
Without another word, I fled from the room, shocked and confused.
And more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.