Executive Package (6 page)

“You… can’t…” she stuttered between gulping breaths.

“I can fix anything, baby. Go on, now. Let it out first, then we’ll talk.”

His sweetness only made her cry harder. She was getting tears and snot all over his clean shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice. She tried to pull away, to spare him, but he made a disapproving noise and held her closer, wrapping her in his love, surrounding her with his comforting fresh, crisp scent, and rocking her gently until she was finally drained.
 

He produced a tissue and she wiped her eyes and nose. Great. Her eyeliner and mascara had run. She probably looked like a raccoon.
 

“Feel better?”

She nodded. “A little.”

“Good. You’re going to tell me what happened, and I’m going to fix it just like I promised.”

The door opened and Cunningham barreled into the room. Elle turned quickly so that he wouldn’t see her face.

“The clients are waiting,” Cunningham snapped.

“Then they’ll wait. We’ve got a problem.”

Cunningham must have realized that there was something wrong with the way Elle was turned away from him, because he closed the door. He went around and squatted in front of her, and when she raised her eyes to his, she saw that he was pissed.

She knew he couldn’t possibly be mad at her, but an unhappy Cunningham was a frightening Cunningham.
 

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice quavering.
 

“What happened?” he demanded.

It was impossible to open up to someone scowling like Cunningham was at that moment. There was a reason Jonathan dealt with matters that required delicacy. Jonathan took her hand in his, feeding her strength with his touch. “Take a deep breath,” he said encouragingly.

She quickly told him about the photographer outside, the texts from her sister, and the news article. When she was done, Cunningham raised a baffled eyebrow. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“I… I guess that everyone knows.”

He frowned. “Of course they know. That’s the idea. We’re together and everyone knows. So what?” There was a warning in his voice.

“This can’t be easy for her,” Jonathan said, his voice firm. “You’ve had high-profile relationships. She hasn’t, and her first experience is about as unconventional as possible.”

“They called me a whore,” she said. Even as she said it, she realized that the insults didn’t bother her the most. It was a fact that they were together, and why should she care what people thought?

She sensed that the next words out of Cunningham’s mouth would be to question her commitment to them. He didn’t give a damn what anyone thought so long as it didn’t erode his power, his position or his wealth.
 

“Who’s your favorite female singer?” Cunningham demanded.

The unexpected question caught her off-guard, and she answered reflexively.

His lips pressed together, Cunningham tapped on his phone, then showed Elle the screen. There were thousands of pages calling the singer a slut, along with lots of colorful adjectives.

“Who’s your favorite actress?”

“Ok,” she said, dredging up an exhausted smile. He really was trying to be helpful. “I get your point.”

Shaking his head, Cunningham returned his phone to his pocket. “When you walked into this office, my first impression was that you were insecure. Despite everything I’ve done, your confidence hasn’t improved enough.”

“I didn’t mean to let you down,” she said.

He looked so disappointed that she began crying again.
 

“Well done,” Jonathan snapped. He pulled Elle into his arms. A moment later, the door opened and closed as Cunningham left. “Ignore his callousness,” Jonathan said. “He’s worried that you’re embarrassed about us.”

“I’m not,” Elle managed between sobs.

“And he knows that. Cunningham has many strengths, but heaven knows that tenderness doesn’t come naturally. Seeing you cry is breaking his heart. It makes him feel helpless.”

“But you aren’t acting like that.”

“I’m not Cunningham. I see the humor in the situation. We’re going to be called names—all of us—and we’re going to have to adjust. All of us. You’re going to be very wealthy soon, Elle. No matter who you choose, you’ll be married to a billionaire. Well, I’m only worth about 900 million, but it’s close enough. You’re going to have an enviably charmed life, and we intend to spoil you. It will bring out the worst in others. They’ll be jealous. Logically, you understand that. It’s their problem, not yours.”

His soothing words stemmed the tide of tears again, and he handed her another tissue.

“My mother… when she finds out what people are saying…” She shrugged helplessly as she looked into his stunningly handsome face and his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Ah. That’s what it’s about. You’re embarrassed, but not about what the world thinks. I think Cunningham
would
understand that… but let’s not tell him.” A little smile played on Jonathan’s lips. “You were caught off-guard.
We
were caught off-guard. But it’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things.”

“What do I do?”

He smiled and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well… we could ask Nolan to buy up every major news outlet in the world and drown the story that way. What do you think? Overkill?”

“No, not overkill.” She laughed. “Ok, maybe so.”
 

“At the very least, I want you to turn off your phone and the internet for a little while. Just get back to your life. In the meantime, there are some things I can handle to minimize some of the more… annoying… aspects of your newfound fame.” He helped her stand. “Good?”

She smoothed the bottom of her dress, which had wrinkled because she hadn’t sat carefully. It was amazing how much better she felt after letting go in Jonathan’s arms. “Surprisingly, yes.”
 

He smiled warmly, sexy little lines crinkling the corners of his eyes, and she was suddenly aware of the closeness of his muscular body. All the morning’s excitement seemed to be fueling her libido, creating an urgent physical need for this man, who had ridden in like a knight on a white horse to rescue her.

Jonathan kissed her gently, and she pressed against him and discovered she wasn’t alone in indulging impure thoughts. He reluctantly pulled away. “I would love nothing so much as to pull the swing down and fuck you right here, but I do need to see this client. Unless you feel sex is necessary for you to survive the morning?” he added hopefully.

Elle burst out laughing. “You always know what to say. You really are the perfect man.”

His smile brightened, making Elle feel even better. “Feel free to use my bathroom to freshen up, and take as long as you need.” He headed for the door.

“Thank you,” she said.

He turned. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t comfort you? And remember, kill your phone and internet. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

His smile was radiant. “Thank you,” he said, and left.
 

Elle turned and took in his office. She spent a lot of time there, but never alone. It seemed too large, too empty, without her lovers.

On the surface, it could pass for a completely normal place to do… whatever it was that the co-partner of a successful design and advertising firm did when he wasn’t lounging on the sofa and reading trade journals. But she knew the truth. She ran her fingers over the cool, polished surface of his desk and detected a whiff of citrus wood cleaner.
 

No, not a normal office at all. For starters, there was a sex swing hidden in the ceiling. Then there was the low, padded bench that made for a very comfortable place to recline while having her mouth and pussy fucked at the same time, and with Cunningham underneath her, his arms wrapped around her body, she could have all of her holes stuffed at once. If she hadn’t known the bench’s true purpose, she never would have guessed.

There were restraints that dangled from the ceiling and along the wall. They, like the swing, were currently stowed. And maybe that was the reason the office seemed sad. No sex toys.
 

Laughing at herself, she slowly walked into the bathroom. It was sparkling clean. She looked longingly at the large tub that was perfect for warm bubble baths. Maybe at the end of the workday, if her bosses fucked her in the office, they’d take her into the tub afterward.
 

She cleaned off her ruined eyeliner and reapplied her makeup, and since she knew there was a curling iron in one of the cabinets, she took the time to add some spirals to her hair. She stared at her reflection and tried to imagine what people must think when they saw her with these men.

Objectively speaking, she was average. On the pretty side, but still average. No one had ever fawned over her eyes or skin or hair, and while her body was fine, she was hardly a lingerie model. Though the personal trainer she sometimes hired, and the expensive salon visits she could now afford, made her almost pretty, she knew the truth.

Cunningham’s criticism rang in her ears.
Too insecure.
 

She ran her fingers through her hair and shook out the curls until they fell loosely around her shoulders. She tried to evaluate herself as a stranger might, hoping to find something that set her apart from the millions of other women in their early twenties.
 

Nope. Nothing. She was always Elle, would always be Elle.

But a spritz of bold perfume that Cunningham had bought for her, rubbed on her inner wrists and neck, made her feel a lot sexier.

The curling iron hadn’t cooled yet, so she just unplugged it, then used a fresh towel to wipe up the splashed water on the sink basin. The cleaning crew would restore everything to perfection, but the bathroom was so pretty that she didn’t feel right leaving strands of hair in the sink. Once things were tidy, she switched off the light and wandered out, closing the bathroom door behind her.

She liked Jonathan’s office. It felt safe. Now that her sinuses were clear, she could smell the mingled, very faint traces of aftershave from all three men, the scents threaded together into something that both calmed and excited her, and most definitely filled her with longing. Maybe she couldn’t have them with her right now, but this was almost as good.

And Jonathan had said she could stay as long as she wanted. He wouldn’t mind. Cunningham… she wouldn’t have dared stay in his office without permission. Cunningham was scary, there was no doubt about that, but he was trying. At this point, she was intimidated by him because it was a habit. He had taken her into his bed and carefully made love to her. He’d sworn to do it gently and for as many times as she needed to be convinced of his love.

But that didn’t change the fact that he was a frightening man. Maybe if he didn’t glower so much…

She sat at Jonathan’s desk and opened his laptop. It took her a fast moment to log into the company’s network, and another moment to access her unfinished projects. She brought up the logo she’d been working on the last few days.

It was a pro bono job for an after-school program aimed at mentoring children whose parents needed to work and couldn’t afford a babysitter. The program recently received an injection of grant money, which allowed them to expand, and, as the director explained, they needed to look professional.

Their previous logo had been done by a former intern who hadn’t quite mastered clip art. Elle found it charmingly earnest, and immediately saw a few ways to keep the theory behind the old logo while updating it. She’d quickly volunteered to take on the project. While researching the organization’s background, she realized their website was badly in need of a redesign, so she started jotting down ideas for that, too.

She had plans for a mobile app as well, one that would allow parents to connect with their children, though maybe that was overstepping her position. And anyway that wasn’t her area of expertise. Still, she could see what it would look like, how it might function, and she was sure that
someone
could do the programming.
 

Within a few minutes, the world fell away and she was immersed in the minutiae of her work. She loved this hypnotic, deep attention to detail. And she was good at it. Some designers had innovative ideas but lacked the technical skills to execute their vision.
 

Her favorite college professor had told her that she was rare in that her ideas and skill set were evenly matched. The professor, a severe and serious woman in her sixties who had won multiple genius grants, never gushed with praise, but Elle had realized she was being encouraged.

Maybe, if she really was going to be as rich as her boyfriends seemed hellbent on making her, she should use her skills for good. It wasn’t like the world would bemoan the loss of another cog in the advertising machine.
 

She smiled. Cunningham would flip out if she left to start her own boutique agency. She should bring it up. Make it a condition of deciding who to marry. At the very least, it would be worth seeing the look on his face.

The door opened, and one of Cunningham’s assistants leaned in. His brow furrowed as he threw the door wider. “Been looking all over for you. I was starting to think you’d ducked out.”

“Where on earth would I go?” She quickly saved the project and stood, feeling self-conscious about being in the boss’s office unsupervised. “What do you need?”

“You,” he said, looking at her as if she’d sprouted a second head. “In the conference room. You’re late.”

She glanced at her watch. It was 11:20. “Crap!” Her ankle twisted as she hurried around the desk.

“I tried your cell,” he said. “And email.”

As they approached the main conference room, she was surprised at how quiet it was. It wasn’t long before she realized why. The fifteen employees and two clients were all completely silent. Eighteen busy, important people, including Cunningham, had been waiting for the last twenty minutes.
 

“I’m sorry,” she said to Cunningham, then to the clients, Karl Mains and Gustav Black. She knew these men, had been loaned to them by Cunningham. They had touched her, kissed her, and oh yes, they had fucked her. They knew who she was and what she needed in a way that the newspapers never would, thank goodness. Her mouth went dry as she remembered the paparazzi and her sister’s texts.