Читать книгу Sweet Submission - Lisa Renee Jones - Страница 5

Darla Rogers sat across from her new client, the thirty-six-year-old, megamillionaire, Marcus Alexander, at the conference table of the legal firm Ward, Regal and Williams, PC. A dirty bit of real estate fraud had slipped past his prior counsel and delivered her an exciting opportunity to work with one of Houston’s largest employers, Alexander Enterprises.

Marcus Alexander was also rumored to head a secret sex society, and it wasn’t hard to believe it was true. The man literally oozed sex. Like Jacob had, she thought of the ex who’d left on a top secret Special Forces mission three years before and had never returned—at least, not to her. They’d broken up after a night where a year of vanilla sex had become something far different, far darker, that left her shaken.

Unbidden images came to her, of herself naked, tied between two posts in the center of his loft, begging him for mercy in the form of an orgasm, the images in such vivid erotic clarity that she shifted in her seat and recrossed her legs.

She blinked and realized that Marcus was staring at her, and she righted a slim lock of auburn hair that had escaped the conservative twist at her neck and fallen into her eyes. She didn’t usually get distracted in the midst of business, but despite Marcus’s dark good looks contrasting with Jacob’s blond Adonis good looks, Marcus reminded her of her ex to the point of utter distraction.

“I think that wraps up my questions, and it only took, oh—” she peeked at her dainty silver watch “—two hours on a Monday morning. A productive way to start the week.”

They’d managed to discuss a variety of potential investments he was making and review his healthy real estate portfolio. “We won’t let you down, Mr. Alexander. You have my word. Ward, Regal and Williams is one of the top corporate law firms in the state of Texas and with good reason.”

He pushed to his feet, and Darla followed, quickly moving around the table to stand in front of him. He was a handsome man, tall and dark, his gray striped suit exquisitely fitted to his impressive masculine physique. “I have no doubt of your competence. You came highly recommended. You, Ms. Rogers, not the firm.”

“Thank you,” she said as pride swelled inside her. She’d redirected her career path some years before and not without struggle. “That means a lot to me.”

“I’m surprised you left your father’s firm.”

“You and my father both,” she said with a humorless laugh, not at all surprised that Marcus knew her history. A man like this would investigate those he wished to do business with, even more so after being burned by past counsel. “To say that he was displeased at my choice is an understatement. And though I doubt you would agree right about now, criminal law can be a far dirtier business than the scam of a real estate deal gone bad. I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life looking at myself in the mirror and knowing I got someone off on murder who might kill again.”

Or spend her life under her father’s controlling hand, but she didn’t say that. She loved her father; she just couldn’t work for him. How her mother did it, she would never know.

Dark eyes studied her a moment, and she had the sense he was sizing her up before seeming to draw a conclusion. “There’s a wine tasting at Alexander’s Wine Cellar Friday night,” he said, surprising her by redirecting the conversation. “Several of my business associates will be attending. I believe you will find it might—” a momentary pause, as if he were choosing his words carefully, before he added “—stimulate new ventures for you. I’d like you to attend.”

Phrased as a question, but it wasn’t a question. She heard the low command in his tone. He was her client. She would do as he wished. “Friday night,” she agreed. “Of course.”

He inclined his dark head. “I’ll have an invitation delivered to your office with the details.”

Darla walked him to the elevator, and just before he stepped inside, she remembered a question. “Oh, yes. I meant to ask who I should thank for referring you?”

He stepped inside the car and turned to face her. A hint of a smile played on his dangerously sensual mouth, warning her that before he said the name, he knew the impact it would have. “Jacob Remington,” he replied, a second before the doors closed, which she had no doubt was planned.

Darla stood there, her black high heels wobbling dangerously to the left and then again to the right. The last she’d heard, through a mutual friend, was that Jacob had been on an extended mission somewhere in a third-world country. But Jacob knew Marcus. On some level she suspected her erotically charged thoughts during their meeting had been telling her that, already connecting the two men. Maybe Jacob had mentioned Marcus to her at some point in the year they’d been together, maybe it was just the raw sensuality that dominated the air around them—a powerful essence the two men shared and few others possessed.

Her heart exploded in her chest, thinking of the rumors of a secret sex society, wondering if Jacob was a member. Jacob, whom she’d loved, probably still did. Jacob who’d pushed her to the erotic edge, to trust him completely, and she’d responded by pushing him away. How many times had she wished she could turn back time, to see Jacob again, to feel him again. Yet she’d waited too long to contact him, convinced herself she couldn’t, she shouldn’t. And now, he’d thrown her a twig through Marcus, whether it was meant as an invitation into his life or not, she didn’t know. She didn’t even care. Jacob was back, and so was her opportunity to revisit the past and make it right.

Darla inhaled a fortifying breath. She was going to that wine tasting Friday night, and she was going to do whatever it took to convince Marcus she belonged in his world so she could show Jacob she belonged in his world. And if Jacob didn’t want her there, at least she was done running from the past and from herself. It was time to face her darkest desires.