Stalked by the utive
STALKED BY THE EXECUTIVE
I stride into Le Cinq, scanning the elegant dining room. I have a table waiting on standby whenever I require it. My company sees to it that I never have to wait.
Just one of the many perks of being a billionaire executive. But with my status comes long nights and stress. I cherish these little breaks I take here.
My gaze finally settles on a young brunette waitress clearing a table in the corner, and I go completely still. I've never seen her in here before. She must be knew.
I take in her petite form, the way her skirt hugs her shapely hips, the way her button-up blouse clings to the curves of her breasts.
And holy fuck, her face. She has striking blue eyes and an innocent smile. The body of a siren, the face of an angel.
I swallow thickly, my erection instant and throbbing. The mere sight of a woman has never had me so hard-up before.
What is it about this girl?
It's like I have tunnel vision. All I see is her as I made my way toward her, like I'm in a trance.
I don't even see the passing waiter, and when I bump into him, I send the contents of a glass tumbling onto the pretty little waitress's crisp white blouse.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry." The words tumble from my lips as I grasp her arms, our eyes locking. I try not to notice the way the liquid soaks up her white blouse, making the material nearly translucent. A spark of electricity crackles between us and a flush creeps up her delicate neck.
She attempts to brush off my apology. "Please don't worry. It was just an accident."
I remove my suit coat and wrap it around her, my knuckles grazing the swell of her breasts. All I can think about is covering her before other male eyes see what I saw.
She's mine .
I don't know why I'm suddenly so possessive of this girl, but I am. I don't want anyone else looking at her. No one else can touch her. Only me.
"It was my carelessness. Let me make it up to you." I stare into her pretty blue eyes and fight back a groan.
Her rosebud lips part. "That won't be necessary."
I slide my fingers under her chin, tilting her face up to mine, marveling at how petal soft her skin is. She's like a porcelain doll. So beautiful. So fragile. And I find myself just wanting to take her home with me and lock her up. "Nonsense. I insist you join me for dinner...on me, of course."
Her cheeks flame as she struggles to form a response. She's clearly rattled, though whether from fear or desire I can't yet tell.
"I'm sorry. I'm on the clock, Sir."
"I know the manager. He will make an exception at my request," I insist.
After a long moment, she relents with a whispered, "Alright."
Triumph surges through me.
"Excellent. I'm Marcus Wellington." I take her hand and brush my lips across her knuckles.
"Charlotte Turner." A shiver runs through her delicate frame as she utters her name.
I smile, tightening my grip on her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte."
Our gazes remain locked, a silent promise of what's to come passing between us. I've found my obsession, and there's no turning back now.
She's mine .
I lead Charlotte to my usual table, pulling out her chair for her. She sits, smoothing her skirt over her thighs. I take the seat across from her, studying her openly.
In the soft light of the restaurant, she's even lovelier than I first noticed. Full lips, high cheekbones, and wide blue eyes that hold a hint of innocence despite her obvious intelligence.
A wave of possessiveness washes over me. I want to be the one to shatter that innocence, to expose the wanton creature she's destined to become under my tutelage.
"Have you worked here long?" I ask, struggling to keep my tone casual. I already know she hasn't. I'd definitely have noticed her. I signal the waiter for a bottle of wine.
"Today is my first day." She ducks her head, a blush staining her cheeks. "I'm trying to pay for school."
"Ah, so you're a student then. Studying what, may I ask?"
"Literature." She meets my gaze again, her eyes bright. "I want to be a writer."
"How ambitious." I pour her a glass of wine and lift my own. "To your dreams, Charlotte Turner."
"Thank you." She smiles, the warmth in her expression setting my blood aflame. "And you, Mr. Wellington? What is it you do?"
I stare at her a minute. It's refreshing to meet someone who doesn't know who I am. It's clear by her innocent gaze that she truly doesn't know.
"Please, call me Marcus." I take a generous swallow of wine, the bitter tang a poor substitute for the taste I crave. "I'm in acquisitions. My company seeks out valuable assets and makes them our own."
Her lips part on a soft intake of breath, and I picture them swollen from our kisses, bruised from the ferocity of my possession.
"That sounds...challenging." She fidgets with her napkin, her knuckles white.
I reach across the table to still her hands, stroking my thumbs over her knuckles. "Do I make you nervous, Charlotte?"
She pulls away sharply, panic flaring in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wellington, but I should return to my work."
My grip on her tightens, desire churning in my gut. She'll not escape me so easily. I have her now, and I won't let go.
I swallow the urge to drag her into my arms and kiss the defiance from her lips. No, I mustn't frighten her.
"Forgive me," I say softly. "I didn't mean to alarm you." I release her hands and lean back, affecting a casual air. "It seems I've overstepped. Allow me to make it up to you."
She hesitates, watching me warily. "How do you mean?"
"Come work for me." The words spill from my lips before I can stop them. "You're too intelligent and ambitious to waste your potential waiting tables. Be my personal secretary. I'll double your salary, give you opportunities to advance. You can pursue your dreams on your own time."
I hold my breath, praying I haven't revealed too much, as she considers my offer. Her eyes narrow, and for one heart-stopping moment, I'm certain she sees through my facade.
Then she smiles, relief and joy transforming her features, and I breathe again. "I don't know what to say. That's incredibly generous of you."
"Generosity has nothing to do with it." I return her smile, hiding my triumph. "I'm investing in talent. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes!" She laughs, the sound like music to my ears. "When do I start?"
"Tomorrow." I stand and draw several bills from my wallet, more than enough to cover her wages for the week. "Go home. Consider this your first payment."
"But—"
"No arguments." I press the money into her hand and close her fingers around the crisp notes. "I'll have a car pick you up at 8 am. We have a great deal of work ahead of us, Charlotte."
"I look forward to it." Her cheeks flush becomingly as she meets my gaze. "Thank you again...Marcus."
"The pleasure is mine." I bring her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles once more and reveling in her shiver. "Until tomorrow, my dear."
With that, I take my leave, hunger and anticipation quickening my steps into the night. I pull out my cell phone and call my head of security. He answers on the first ring as always. "Yes, boss?"
"Get me everything you can on Charlotte Turner."
***
The next morning, Charlotte arrives promptly at 8 am. I greet her myself, leading her to the spacious office that will now be hers.
"I wasn't expecting this," she says, eyes wide as she takes in the view of the city from the floor-to-ceiling windows. "It's beautiful."
"Only the best for my personal assistant." I place a hand at the small of her back, gratified by her responsive shiver. "Shall we get started?"
She nods, turning to face me with a smile. "What would you like me to do first?"
I steeple my fingers, affecting a thoughtful pose. "The charity gala my company hosts annually is coming up next month. I would like for you to help organize the event. You'll have full control over which charities and organizations we sponsor. Does that sound like a good start?"
"Yes, absolutely!" Excitement animates her expression, blue eyes glowing. "Thank you so much for this opportunity, Marcus. I won't let you down."
"I know you won't." Unable to resist, I reach out and tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She stills at my touch, cheeks flushing, and I thrill at her involuntary response.
Mine.
The possessive thought comes unbidden, but I don't fight it. Charlotte Turner belongs to me now, in all the ways that matter. I only need to make her realize that truth for herself.
Throughout the day, I watch Charlotte from the shadows of my office as she settles into her new role. She moves with purpose and poise, greeting coworkers and fielding calls with confidence. But there are moments when she pauses, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear or chewing on her lower lip, that betray her nerves.
"Did you need something, Mr. Wellington?"
Charlotte's question startles me from my thoughts. She stands in the doorway of my office, a stack of files clutched to her chest and a quizzical expression on her face.
"Just observing," I reply smoothly. "Making sure you have everything you need to get started."
"I belive I have everything under control." Her chin lifts a fraction, and I supress a smile.
"Duly noted." I pin her in place with a smoldering look, watching with satisfaction as a blush stains her cheeks. "Thank you, Charlotte. I'll be sure to let you know if I need anything...personal."
The emphasis is slight, and I could shook myself when Charlotte flushes deeper, blue eyes widening with something akin to panic. The stack of files tumble to the floor in a flurry of papers.
I bend to help her pick them up.
"I'm so sorry," she apologies, her face flaming.
"Sweetheart, there's nothing to be sorry for," I tell her gently.
Her eyes snap up to me at the endearment, her lips parting. My cock instantly grows to full mast, and I discreetly turn away from her to adjust myself as I rise.
I feel Charlotte's gaze on me like a physical caress, her uncertainty and curiosity a heady combination. I'm acutely aware of her every movement, my senses attuned to her in a way that borders on obsession.
When she rises from the floor, I track her progress with a hooded gaze. The sway of her hips and rustle of her skirt quicken my pulse, arousal and possessiveness warring for dominance. I want to mark her, claim her, devour her whole.
By the time Charlotte returns to her desk, composure regained, I've conjured a dozen fantasies of how I'll make her mine.
And she will be mine.