Читать книгу Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir / Jealousy & a Jewelled Proposition: Boardrooms & a Billionaire Heir - Paula Roe, Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 11

Five

Any normal girl would be out on a date Saturday night, Holly muttered to herself as she walked into Blackstone’s, bravado propelling her forward. Not at work, spying on her boss. Not sneaking around, trying to uncover Jake’s big plot to bring down Blackstone’s.

As the elevator sped up to the top floor, Holly recalled the past hour. Kimberley had offered her two tickets to the Alex Perry fashion show at the Powerhouse Museum as compensation for pulling her from the preparations. Sitting through the traditional bridal theme closing with gorgeous women strutting about in stunning white gowns wasn’t exactly what Holly had in mind to occupy her thoughts. Then she’d spotted Jake in the front row and her evening had suddenly ratcheted up in the interesting column.

He was seated next to one of Blackstone’s prominent shareholders, engaged in deep conversation, when some sixth sense must have told him he was being watched. He glanced up and pinned her with his dark gaze.

Her clothes had suddenly felt constrictive. She may as well have been naked sitting there, the off-the-shoulder wraparound designer blouse providing absolutely no coverage whatsoever.

He had no right to stare at her like that. And less right to make her feel…hot. Bothered.

Aroused.

She rose quickly, murmured something about fresh air to Miko, her surprised flatmate, and made her way to the exit. Strobe lights flashed behind her, loud music throbbed low and sensual, but she kept right on walking—even when she realised that Jake had a perfect view of her backside clad in skintight black velvet hipsters. Another brilliant decision gone horribly wrong.

She was waiting in line at the open-air bar, eyeing the congregation of smokers on her left, when a man broke free from the group and strode over.

Max.

A wave of cigarette smoke reached her before he did and burnt her nostrils. She barely suppressed a cough of distaste as he crossed his arms on the bar next to her, bumping his shoulder into hers.

“What are you doing here?” she said and angled away.

“Socializing. Having a few drinks. Keeping an eye on you. You’ve been avoiding me.”

Ignoring his oh-so-charming smirk, she reached for her glass but quickly recoiled when Max reached it first.

He frowned. “Holls, don’t be like that.”

She just scowled and pulled the glass back, wine slopping over the rim as she resisted the overwhelming desire to clock him with it.

“Jake’s getting to you, huh?”

She gritted her teeth, praying for control. “Haven’t you got someone else to blackmail, Max?”

Max laughed an unpleasant bark. “Watch it, Holls. It’s not just me who’s got something to lose here.”

“You were the one sleeping around. You were the one who offered me up as Jake’s assistant. And you—”

“And you were the one who didn’t say no to sex on my desk. We had a good time, Holly. Admit it—you got off on the whole ‘secret and forbidden’ thing.”

Disbelief rendered her speechless. She didn’t know what was worse, her raging stupidity for ignoring Blackstone’s morality clause, or her naivety for thinking she’d be any different from the rest of Max’s women.

It was those innocent choirboy looks, complete with a mop of golden curls that made Max Carlton such a hit. The men liked him for his after-hours drinks and blokey talk about football and women. The women were flattered by his charm and good looks. And to her surprise, there’d been a spark of interest despite the unofficial gossip. He was an attractive smooth-talker and everyone knew it, especially Max Carlton.

So you fell for it and now he’s got you over a barrel. Way to go, Holly.

“What do you want?” Before she could blink, he took her arm and steered her across the courtyard to a dark corner.

She wrenched from his grip, her breath coming quick and angry. Thank goodness for public places. Past him, she noticed the caterer’s tables, the half-dozen people setting up for the hungry masses.

“What have you found out?”

“Nothing,” she said, disgust clogging her voice. “Jake Vance is above board on this one.”

Max smiled thinly. “We’re talking about the same guy, right? Men like Vance don’t just waltz into a company with good intentions. They destroy them.”

“He’s not here for a takeover. And I’m sure Ric or Ryan would have—”

Max snorted. “They’re too busy playing happy families. Vance has ’em fooled. Listen.” He stepped closer, an intimidating figure in the half-shadows. “I’ve got a good thing going at Blackstone’s and I plan to keep it that way. Just get me proof of Vance’s intentions. After I get compensated by the board—”

“You’ll sign off on my permanent PR transfer.”

“Yeah, sure.” He reached out to touch her cheek but she flinched. He narrowed his eyes. “Make no mistake, Holly. If you blab, I’ll take you down with me. Whom do you think the board will believe?”

Then he swiftly tipped the glass of wine down her shirt. Holly choked off a squeal and jumped back, too late. The dark wet stain spread rapidly over the chiffon, dripping down her front.

Max looked nonplussed. “Jake’s busy chatting up the models. Go back to the office and change. And check out his desk.”

The elevators pinged open, startling Holly into the present. The insides of her mouth were arid and scratchy. It was all about Max—his job, his comfort. No thought as to how this corporate espionage went against every decent bone in her body.

She tamped a lid on her emotions. Panic had never solved her problems before; it wouldn’t now.

Slowly she walked out, unlocked the glass doors then closed them behind. She’d worked late and on the weekends before, which meant the security guy had suspected nothing amiss. She’d strode into the building with her head held high, even tossing him a wave as she walked over to the executive elevator. But now, standing stock still inside the darkened office, trepidation fluttered in her belly.

“Just get changed and leave,” she muttered to herself. “You can stall Max another couple of days.”

Bolstered, she turned on the desk lamp and laid her key card on the filing cabinet. She checked the hallway then plucked a shirt from her locker and swung open Jake’s office door.

She changed in the shadows, and just as quickly, she scanned his desk. The brochures she’d finally managed to give him lay open on the top. She glanced at the financials in his in tray.

No. You can’t.

Yet what could she do? It was either help Max or get fired. Despite her desperate need for the money, she genuinely loved working here. She’d carved a niche, made friends and garnered the respect of her colleagues. She prided herself on working hard and being professional, and Kimberley, for one, had noticed that.

So professional you breached your employment contract and had sex with your boss.

She swallowed, fighting with nerves until finally she made a decision. With a determined slant to her mouth, she strode around the desk and tried the drawers. Locked. She shuffled through the papers, flicked open the folders but came up empty-handed.

Holly paused, her mind buzzing. Or perhaps it was the subtle hint of cologne, all male and all Jake, invading her senses that sent a shock of remembrance through her brain.

Jake’s mouth, warm and needy on hers.

Her breath shook on the way in. She stilled, listening in the stillness to the guilty beating of her heart.

It was then that two things caught her attention: a tiny green light coming from the phone recharger on the edge of his desk. And the soft swoosh of the glass door opening in the outer office. He’d come back for his mobile phone.

Panic clogged her throat. Think, think! With a held breath she quickly stepped from behind the desk and undid the buttons on her blue silk shirt. It hung open, showing a glimpse of her black satin bra, when Jake opened his office door.

She didn’t have to fake a gasp as he swung the door wide. When he zeroed right in on her cleavage, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her smokescreen had worked.

“I spilled wine on my shirt,” she hurried to explain. Yet when his eyes dragged over her skin, leaving it practically sizzling in his wake, she self-consciously tugged at the shirtfront, realising the danger of her situation.

His hand stilled on the door handle. Light spilled around the frame, silhouetting his body in stark relief. To her chagrin the shadows also hid his expression. It didn’t hide the deep timbre in his soft statement, however.

“Really.”

She gestured to the windows covered with blinds. “Your office has coverage. I had a spare shirt in my locker….” She began buttoning it up, suddenly feeling stupid and exposed.

“You left the closing show early?” she asked unnecessarily.

“So did you.”

He moved, walking into the small pool of light from the desk lamp. Shadows slashed across his face, illuminating the darkness and light of his features. An elegantly straight nose. The dark hooded brows. The angular cheekbones combined with a strong, almost glacial jawline.

“Are you really here to change your shirt, Holly?”

“I…I…” Think, Holly! Yes? No? Arrghh. Seeing her hope fading gradually away, she leaned back, bumping her bottom on the desk. That small movement commanded Jake’s eyes back to her open neckline, lingering. As his eyes dipped into a frown, she caught something else in their depths. Desire.