Chapter 18
chapter
eighteen
Itapped once on the half-open office door, laptop tucked under my arm. “You wanted to see me?”
Richard looked up from his desk, and a broad, unhurried smile unfolded across his face. “Yes, do come in, Alex.” He leaned back in his leather chair, ankle resting neatly over his knee. “You all right?”
I stepped inside and smoothed my skirt. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Just a little out of sorts this morning. Nothing another cup of coffee can’t fix.”
He gave a low chuckle. “I do adore Americans. You’ve not been here long enough to learn that ‘all right’ is a greeting, not a question.” He gestured toward a chair in front of his desk. “Please.”
“Ah. I feel like an idiot now.” I laughed lightly as I sat, crossing my legs at the ankle. “Can I still blame the jet lag?”
“You do look tired, if you don’t mind my saying,” Richard replied mildly, steepling his fingers. “Busy weekend?”
My thoughts flickered to Luka—his hands, his voice, the way he had dismantled me until nothing else existed. To the club—the masks, the lights, the heady, reckless freedom that had followed me back to my hotel room. I pushed the memory aside.
“Oh, no more than usual,” I said. “Pretty boring, actually.”
His smile didn’t falter. “You don’t strike me as someone who would travel this far merely to sit in her hotel room.”
I shrugged. “Shall we dive in? Did you want to discuss something specific, or shall I give you an update?”
“By all means,” he said, leaning forward and folding his hands on the desk. “Let’s have it.”
I opened my laptop and pulled up the slide deck I had prepped earlier that morning.
Familiar ground steadied me. I walked him through the highlights—creative direction, rollout cadence, audience strategy—keeping my tone crisp and neutral.
He listened attentively, nodding at the right moments, asking just enough to demonstrate engagement.
“Stunning.” He let the word linger.
Something in his gaze made heat creep up the back of my neck. I shifted in my chair and advanced the slide.
“And we’re fully optimizing your SEO.”
He reached across the desk and rested his hand on the back of my wrist. The contact was light, almost casual, but it froze me in place.
“Be gentle with me,” he said with a faint smile. “I haven’t a clue what SEO is.”
I eased my hand free and folded it into my lap, my pulse beginning to thrum behind my ears. “Search engine optimization,” I replied evenly. “We’re positioning your brand so that when anyone in your target market searches for related services, your name dominates the results.”
His eyes sharpened. “So we’re conquering the market digitally.”
“Your business already does that in person,” I replied. “This just ensures the internet reflects it. That’s why you hired me.”
“Mm.” His smile tilted. “There’s that fire. I do admire conviction.”
I glanced at my watch. Just after ten. “If that’s everything,” I said, straightening in my chair, “I should get back. I’ve got a call with our web designer at one and need to prep.”
Before I could stand, Richard reached forward and pressed the laptop lid closed with a quiet, decisive click.
“That’s quite enough business,” he said.
My stomach tightened, a low, uneasy churn. “What else is there?”
He leaned back, studying me with unhurried interest. “You’re alone here for the next six weeks.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, sitting straighter. “London’s a big city. I’m not exactly helpless.”
“No,” he agreed mildly. “You’re not. In fact, I understand you’ve already been rather…adventurous.”
My throat went dry. “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”
He rose, walked to the door, and pushed it shut. The lock clicked. “This is a conversation best had in private.”
He moved behind me, the faint scent of cologne and starch closing in. The air felt denser, sealed. My spine stiffened against the back of the chair.
“Wouldn’t want anyone overhearing and drawing the wrong conclusions.”
I curled my fingers into the chair arms. “Is this about my work? Because if there’s a concern—”
He waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “You’re a clever girl, Alex. Let’s not insult each other, shall we?” He settled on the edge of his desk, facing me. “It’s about how you chose to spend the weekend. The…establishments you visited.”
I held his gaze, forcing my expression to appear neutral and unbothered.
He smiled—thin, satisfied. “I suspect your employer would take a dim view of the…clubs you frequent. Particularly whilst representing the firm abroad.” His voice stayed level, almost bored. “That sort of thing can create unfortunate optics.” A pause. “For you.”
I stared at the framed photographs on the wall—all of Richard with various influential people. I forced my breathing to even out.
He knew. Fuck.
“With respect, Richard,” I said, grateful my voice held steady, “how I spend my personal time is a private matter. Unless I’ve done something illegal or missed a deadline, I don’t see how it’s relevant.”
He laughed—a short, precise bark, nothing at all warm. “I see I’ll have to take the slow path.” He rocked forward, palms resting on the edge of the desk. “London may be vast,” he continued lightly, “but its circles are surprisingly small. Nothing remains private here. Not for long, anyway.”
I matched his gaze, refusing to look away.
He leaned a little closer. The light from the window caught in his silver hair, sharpening the lines of his face. “I’m not unsympathetic,” he said. “Truly. I understand curiosity. The urge to try new things.” A beat. “To hide behind a mask.”
A jolt of panic lanced through my rib cage.
“Let me make this crystal clear,” I said, and the tremor in my voice only made me angrier.
“My private life is not up for discussion. Not here. Not ever. If there’s a problem with my performance or my results, say so.
Otherwise, this conversation ends now.” I kept my eyes locked on his, pulse roaring in my ears. “Are we clear?”
For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of approval in Richard’s eyes.
It vanished almost immediately. “Touchy,” he murmured, lips curling.
“I’m only trying to help. You’re drifting into a rather precarious position, and I’d hate to see such obvious talent squandered. ” He paused. “Consider me a safeguard.”
I searched his words for an exit. “What are you getting at?”
He slid closer to me and dropped his voice until it felt private, conspiratorial. “Let’s not pretend we don’t recognize something in one another, hm? We’re cut from the same cloth, you and I.” He held my gaze. “We’re ambitious people. Practical. We understand how the world actually works.”
The silence stretched. But not for long.
“What I propose is simple.” He closed his fingers lightly around my wrist. “In return for my…discretion”—he grazed his thumb along my pulse point—“you’ll…make yourself available to me.”
I jerked my hand free. “That’s blackmail.”
“Oh, come now, don’t be dramatic. It’s nothing so crude.” He caught my wrist again and brushed my fingertips to his lips. “And nothing you wouldn’t enjoy, my dear.”
I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove his “proposal,” but he moved first—stepping in, hands clamped to the armrests of my chair, caging me without quite touching.
“No theatrics, Alex. I’ll keep your dirty little secret safe from your superiors. Unless you force my hand, that is.”
My body froze.
“In fact, I’ll make certain they hear nothing but glowing reports from me. You’ll be a lock in for promotion. Assuming, of course”—he pulled back, and his gaze slithered over me, as if he were tallying up my price tag—“you keep yourself in my good graces.”
I worked a smile onto my lips and forced a brittle laugh. “That’s…generous. But I think I’ll pass.”
His brows lifted slightly. “Have a better offer?”
“If you must know, I’m seeing someone.”
He leaned back, eyes narrowing into cool slits. “Does he know what you get up to whilst you’re away in London?” The tone was mild. The contempt beneath it wasn’t.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I snapped, “but he’s local.”
Richard’s smile returned. “You must be joking. You’ve been here, what, five days?”
I pressed my lips together and stared at the hem of my gray skirt, resting just above my knees.
He stood and moved back behind his desk, reclaiming his space. “And who is this mystery man? Not the brute from Saturday night, surely.”
I looked up sharply. “Are you following me now?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He smiled faintly. “It was a coincidence. Though you were…memorable.”
Fuck.
“And I know the man you left with. Or rather, I know of him.” His tone cooled further. “He’s not one to get stuck in with. Different girl every night. Not the type of man you need.”
My phone buzzed on the desk. I glanced down and saw Luka’s name flash on the lock screen.
Get out
NOW
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Richard opened his top desk drawer and pulled something out—small, black, and leather. Then he came around the desk, his expression relaxed, almost indulgent. He set the object on my thigh and unfolded it across my lap.
“I do believe you lost this.”
It was the shredded remains of the leather microskirt I’d worn at the club.
The fluorescent light caught the silver at his temples.
My blood ran cold.
It was him.
The man from the front row.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“You disappointed me at the club,” he said mildly. “But we can correct that now.”
I tried to pull back, but he stepped in, boxing me against the chair. He leaned close, his face inches from mine, breath brushing my mouth. “If you enjoy a place like the Ferryman, then you understand the rules. Cat and mouse, darling.”
He slid his fingers along the side of my neck—assessing, not caressing.
I twisted away, but he caught me with his other hand, fingers splayed, pressing into my thigh just above the knee.
“You’re not wearing that bloody collar now,” he murmured, voice thick. “Which means you’re fair game.”
Every muscle in my body locked. “Richard, I swear to God—”