Elle's Seduction (2 page)

***

Broom closets weren’t necessarily the best way to talk to your boss, but Fred had dragged her in.

“So, what are they here for?”

Nearing fifty, the man was often distracted and obtuse. Today, his hands fidgeted so much she’d think he had tremors. But no, something else was going on. She didn’t want to think too much about the magnetic men she’d just showed into the biggest conference room. “They want to go over your payables and receivables for the last year.”

“That’s it?”

Elle took a closer look at Fred. He was sweating profusely and looked constipated. “Are you all right? Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink, or maybe a doctor?”

Fred waved her off and stared off into the distance. “He’s spying on me.”

“Wouldn’t a spy have to work for you, already?”

Fred wasn’t listening, just mumbling to himself. Elle held her tongue. Those powerful men had thrown her for a loop; hard sensuality oozed from every pore and already had her nervous. Fending off a grungy mop ready to fall down on her and having Fred here nagging her in a janitor’s closet wasn’t helping her nerves, which were already on edge.

The two men stood nearly the same height, but the dark haired one named Maxwell devoured her with his cold grey eyes. She’d nearly stumbled in her heels as she tried to keep her legs moving even as she’d felt that powerful gaze on her every step of the way down the long corridors.

The other man, the copper blond Darren, his voice was sexy and dark with that British accent. He was the talkative one. Maxwell just stood there in his beautifully tailored slacks and blue striped shirt and tie, just staring at her. He’s the one that made her jittery, her fingers and toes curling just by the feel of him behind her.

Fred was saying something she didn’t catch, pulling her back from her reverie. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“You have to distract them.”

“How, Fred? I’m just an analyst. I’m not a sales person or even an accountant. I’m not sure what they would need me for.”

Fred waived her off. “You’re a woman. You have—” he looked her up and down, a leer curving his lips and making her cringe— “certain attributes that surely they find attractive.”

The slow unfurling of her temper simmered in her stomach. She didn’t like where this was going. Sure, Fred had always leaned toward the slimy, but he’d always kept that leer pointed in other directions—not at her. But just that look made her feel second rate, used. And no one used her. Not her friends, not her coworkers, and certainly not her boss.

She momentarily lamented that she was too much of a southern lady to punch him out.

He wasn’t done though. “With your promotion on the line, I’m sure you want to step up. Show the company what you’re made of.”

Elle almost slapped him like she would a young colt, good and hard enough to leave a bruise. Instead, she took a deep breath and shoved the crummy mop into his face. “Fred, I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that. I don’t negotiate with scumbags.”

Stepping out of the closet, she twisted the lock and slammed the door shut. Outside in the drab hallway, she breathed deeply and tried to calm her racing heart. The nerve of the man! She wanted to scream.

“Something wrong?” a deep voice asked behind her.

Elle spun around and was caught in those gray eyes—Maxwell.

Standing this close, she was caught again in his magnetic gaze. Her breath came out in a whoosh as she took all of him in; from his shiny dress shoes up to his perfectly creased pants. Skipping over his belt, no reason to imagine too much there, a she’d get stuck. A strong, broad chest filled her vision, making her swallow deeply before venturing up to his freshly shaved jaw and sharp cheekbones. No smile curved those plump lips, somehow fuller and more erotic this close than she had first realized.

“Are you okay?”

Elle shook herself mentally and pasted on her best smile. He didn’t need to know about Fred. “Yes. Thank you. I was just thinking. Can I get you something?”

“Coffee?”

The doorknob next to them twisted and Elle heard scuffling sounds through the door. With a swift twist of the knob she jerked the handle and heard a satisfying curse. Turning back to Maxwell, she smiled. No reason to let Fred ruin her day. “Let me show you the break room.”

“What about...” Maxwell was looking at the door, his hand moving toward the handle.

“Oh, never mind that. He’s having some difficulty. He’ll be out in a minute. Let me show you around and if he’s still stuck we’ll get him on the way back.”

Maxwell was so intense, those eyes darkening as they watched her. She was a gazelle under the watchful eye of a jaguar. He was strong and sleek and lethal, all animal. She reveled in that look; her body primed by the two males and from her row with Fred, all she needed was the right spark to set off the emotional fireworks seething under her skin.

She was sure if she wasn’t careful, he might ignite her fuse and burn up everything she had inside of her.

Better stick with showing him the coffee.

It was hard to ignore the sweet sensation of her hips swishing and moving down the hall, those eyes watching her every move. Damn if she’d do as Fred suggested. No matter how much she wanted to.

Tension cramped up Darren’s shoulders as he grabbed his laptop and slammed the cord into the wall. Maxwell couldn’t sit still, was out sniffing up the analyst, and whittling away their precious time on a woman that probably would balk at the first startling pinch of any pain.

Damn Zackary for calling them in to clean up his messes.

It was obvious this Fred guy was incompetent. Who else would leave a Stranton brother waiting for nearly an hour?

Of course, Darren could have given the receptionist his real name and gleefully watched her faint, but he’d left behind his parents and the name that made them world-famous. He preferred it that way, easier to ride on the coat tails of his friends, Zackary and Maxwell Stranton. It came with less baggage.

In a coatroom-sized conference room with a view of a concrete parking lot steaming from the muggy Tennessee heat, he was stuck in the last place on Earth he wanted to be. They should be out in sunny L.A. working on their newest enterprise surrounded by Hollywood royalty and men and woman willing to do just about anything for their next thrill but no, they were here trying to investigate a money trail so thin and inconspicuous that it would have never even registered on his radar.

That was one reason he’d gone into business with Zackary—the man was meticulous. Zackary kept the three of them from a wrong move several times in the last twelve years.

For instance, that sexy analyst. If Zackary were there right now, he’d steer Maxwell far from that sunny-ripe peach. Sassy and sweet, she was southern charm and grace all wrapped into one spunky package. The smell of her alone grabbed him by his dick and led him right along. No wonder Maxwell couldn’t leave her alone.

A knock on the conference room door interrupted his thoughts. A thin, familiar man walked in. Elegant and well dressed, he reminded Darren of a butler in one of the fancy Las Vegas rooms he’d often woken up in after a long night of whoring. All he was missing was a pair of gloves. But the familiarity was real —where did he know this man from?

Brilliant blue eyes peeked up at him under artfully tousled hair. Upon the first glimpse of them, he was struck. Zackary’s slave. “Damn.”

Luke bowed slightly, eyes downcast just as he had been trained. “Sir?”

Inside, a secret little thrill slid down Darren’s spine. Luke was so perfect, so well trained and responsive without Darren even saying a word. Darren could see why Zackary had kept him all to himself over the years, even though Darren owned The Den where Luke had been trained. “Is Fred finally going to show himself, or hide behind his secretary? We waited nearly an hour today for his people to escort us in. Least he could do is come down and talk to us himself.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, but I’m just here to make sure you’re comfortable and to see if you need anything.”

Darren leaned back in his chair drumming his fingers, slowly taking in the sleek form in front of him. This was no untutored slave. He stood firm and almost defiant under the scrutiny, waiting patiently for a response. He could make him wait all day and he imagined Luke would do that, but the tension rolling through him wouldn’t let him sit still.

Darren used his height and closeness to intimidate. He stood and walked around the conference table. Luke never looked up, but Darren could tell by the flush in his cheeks that he wasn’t unaffected. “Does Zackary know you’re here? Or are you being naughty and come to spy on me? Zackary won’t like that.”

A flick of those lashes and Darren caught Luke’s gaze. No, he wasn’t going to get away so easily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sir.”

Darren lifted Luke’s chin and forced the eye contact, “No idea at all, huh?”

Confusion crossed Luke’s face. Darren liked a bit of spunk, but Zackary probably demanded total submission. A direct gaze would have been unwelcome. He could almost see the wheels spinning.

A second later Luke’s gaze sharpened, his decision made. “I’ve heard the rumors.”

Darren leaned down to whisper in the man’s ear. The masculine smell of Polo and male musk tickled his nose, making him think of the wicked things he could do with this slave. Things he would never be able to do with Elle. He knew Zackary would be mad, but he had to push, to see what this man was made of. “What do they say, Luke?”

Luke swallowed and lowered his eyes. Before Darren could correct him, he lifted them again. “They say that you can break even the strongest of men. That they whimper in supplication at your feet. You don’t mind sadists or fetishes.”

Darren watched with great interest as Luke became more animated, those eyes dilating and glowing. He imagined if he looked down Luke would sport an impressive erection.
I wonder if the man’s pierced.
Darren was pierced. He couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. Wicked ideas of ways he could make this man, beg for more, stirred him, taking the tension he’d fought with for the last two hours and focusing it on a single intention, seducing this elegant quiet man.

“Most of all, there’s the scars.”

The mention of scars broke through his wandering thoughts, making him backpedal. “Say that again?”

Luke shuddered. Sweat broke out on his features as he lowered his voice. “Scars, you know how to deal with them.”

Darren had to put an end to his thoughts now. He’d missed something vital in the conversation. “I don’t scar my slaves.”

Luke shook his head, confusion in his eyes. Without hesitation the sleek, well-groomed man before him stepped away and pulled his spotless striped shirt out of his pants. He jerked his undershirt out and dragged both up to expose his hard belly.

Darren lost his breath at the jagged crisscross of slashes across the man’s sides and chest. Burn marks scarred the man in a strange pattern. Someone had tortured Luke; horribly used his own body to warp him mentally and scar him forever. No wonder Zackary kept Luke out of the fray of the club without a mask.

Luke, the ever efficient, professional who stood before him, would never want anyone to see him like this.

Even as Darren lamented the scarring of such beautiful skin, he knew there were worse things and those scars could be used in the most wicked ways. Yes, there were dangers with so much scarring and the person needed to be handled in a safe way so they wouldn’t be hurt again, but patience could be so rewarding. After all, Darren had scars of his own, even if you couldn’t see all of them. Luke would not switch partners on a whim though. He was being very bold coming here.

“Luke, go back to Zackary. You deserve better.”

A strange expression came over Luke’s face, sharpness in the eyes. Darren wished he could take it back. In that moment, he wanted to hold this man, take the past pain away, and welcome him. He cursed himself for a coward as coldness entered those velvety blue eyes. Before Darren could change his mind, Luke swiftly and expertly tucked in his shirt and pants then straightened to his full five-nine height. “Will that be all for you today, Mister Miller? I have other duties that I’m needed for.”

Darren cringed and shook his head. “No thank you. I’ll let Elle know if there is anything.”

Luke nodded and left, but Darren doubted he could forget the disappointment he’d seen in those eyes.

Scars.

Damn, something he knew all too well.

***

For the first time all day Elle could breath. Walking into her cube and taking off her heels was a relief after the intense afternoon she’d had. Between the two men, she’d been on tenterhooks, sweating at the heat.

Maxwell didn’t say much, leaving Darren to do most of the talking with that sexy accent.

Both of them watched her, an uncanny knowledge in their eyes as if they saw straight through her and knew every thought going through her head. It was disconcerting and titillating at the same time.

Fred had finally shown up half an hour ago to pop in and out. The men hadn’t even received a chance to ask any questions. They were only given the opportunity to shake hands and introduced themselves. Elle cringed at the rudeness and had done her best to make it up to the two men by showing them around the offices and pulling the boxes of invoices they’d requested.

Sally’s breathy voice interrupted her thoughts. “Done sizing up the Bobs?”

Elle crossed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting the air rush out. No reason to get huffy with Sally. “Their names are Maxwell and Darren. And I was not sizing them up.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Sally said, coming into her cube and resting her hip against the counter. “Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Unfortunately, you’ve had them to yourself all morning.”

Elle tapped her keyboard to bring up her screen. “Sally, I have an hour lunch that I need to work through and then I’m back to pulling boxes. Can I help you with anything?”

“Their phone numbers.”

God, did everyone she worked with think on a different level? Really, this was ridiculous.

When Elle failed to answer, Sally stood up and plopped a document on her keyboard, right over her hands.

“Fred wants you to go over these figures and sign off on them, pronto.”

“Sure. And you’re going to take care of the daily inspection today too, right?” Elle turned and looked at Sally as she waited for a response.

Sally smiled an evil smile and waved. “Ta-ta. I’m off for a nice lunch with Mr. Zackary Stranton’s sexy admin, Luke. All work and no play and all that.”

Elle sighed and shoved the paper to the side. She’d have to work on that tonight. Right now, she needed to get her daily inspection done. One look at the high heels had her groaning. They weren’t meant for standing all day. She suddenly wished she had a pair of sneakers.