L.A. Fire (23 page)

 
I trailed my nails again, only this time harder, sinking them right into his
flesh. He groaned at the back of his throat. “I’m going to chain you to this
bed and keep you here as my sex slave.”

 
I flashed him a crooked smile. “Maybe on the weekend. Right now I’ve got to get
to work.”

 
His eyes glinted with amusement. “Okay,” he said. “But I’m going to hold you to
your promise.”

 
I scrunched up my face. “Maybe isn’t a promise,” I said, playfully pushing him
away.

 
He grabbed my hands, and pinned me down again. He shot me a scorching stare and
said, “Promise me you’ll let me handcuff you next time.”

 
Holy fuck. Handcuffed? How hot was that? He must have seen something in my face
that pleased him, because his eyes started sparkling with delight. “Promise,”
he said. “Or I’ll tie you to the bed right now and you won’t be able to go to
work.”

 
My heart started pumping a little faster, and my stomach fluttered. “I’ll
starve,” I said, dramatically.

 
“No you won’t. I’ll feed you my cock.”

 
My breathing became ragged again. I squirmed under him, reveling in the feel of
his chiseled body against my flesh. I’d never been handcuffed before. The
thought of being so vulnerable sent a jolt of fear through me, but it also turned
me on.  “I’d be completely at your mercy,” I said, my voice trembling
slightly.

 
Julian released one of my hands, and gently stroked my cheek. “Trust me?” he
asked, tracing my features with his finger.

 
“Yes,” I said, without hesitation. Julian smiled brightly, then gave me a
lingering kiss.

 
“And you promise to let me tie you up?”

 
“Yes,” I said, a gentle quiver of strange delight rippling through me.

 
“Good,” he said, freeing me. “Now let’s get you home so you can change.”

***

 
When I got to the office that morning, I was in a great mood. I noticed in the
elevator that my eyes looked bright, and my skin was glowing, the way it only
does after a night of insanely amazing sex. The moment I walked through the
glass doors to Cooper McGregor, Annabel flashed me a bright smile. “You look
fantastic today,” she said, checking out my dress, and giving me an
appreciative nod. I was wearing a peach v-neck Vera Wang dress that my mother
had bought me as a graduation present. It was made of satin, and flowed out
from the waist.

 
“Look who’s talking, you stunning woman,” I said to her in response. She had on
a simple cream shift dress with black jeweled trimming, and looked incredibly
elegant. She beamed at me in response and wished me a good day.

 
Everything went smoothly that morning. I finished typing up several pending
contracts, and even managed to get through a script or two in the slush pile. I
was just getting up to make photocopies when Amanda appeared at my cubicle, her
hand on her hip, and hovering down at me. “Hello, Sarah,” she said in that
sickeningly sweet voice that I’d learned only meant trouble.

 
I gave her a guarded, icy look and said, “What do you want, Amanda?”

 
She twirled a piece of her straight brown hair around her finger and said, “Oh,
I’m just, you know, checking in to see how you’re doing. With work and what
not.”

 
I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair. “That’s very sweet of you, but
I’m doing fine. Now if you don’t mind, I have to get back to work.”

 
I caught her eyeing me critically, looking me up and down. “Nice dress,” she
said. “It’s impressive that you can afford it on an entry level salary.”

 
I looked at her more closely. She was dressed in a flowing, floral, Juicy Couture
dress that must have cost her a small fortune. “You’re not exactly wearing
rags, Amanda.”

 
“Well, I’ve been working. Hard. I’ve
earned
my salary. You know, instead
of trying to sleep my way to the top.”

 
A jolt of anger shot through me. I glowered at her. “I’m not sleeping with
Paul,” I said.

 
Her eyes glimmered with malice, and she shifted her weight to the other foot.
“No, but rumor has it, you’re sleeping with Julian. I’ve seen the paparazzi
shots. Did he buy that dress for you?”

 
I was livid, and I felt like slapping her. “No, he didn’t. Not that it’s any of
your business,” my voice was shaky, and when she heard it, her eyes flashed
with triumph.

 
“Oh, what then? Did daddy set up a trust fund for you?”

 
I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. Part of me knew Amanda was being a bitch,
and was doing everything in her power to make me feel like shit. But her words
got to me. I wondered if that’s what everyone in the office was thinking. That
I was taking the easy way out by sleeping with Julian. That I wasn’t earning my
place at the office on my own. Sure, I didn’t work for Julian directly, but he
still owned half of the business. Also, I knew I worked hard, but my parents
had a lot of money, and they were helping me out. Without my so called trust
fund I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford the gorgeous clothes I was lucky to be
able to wear.   

 
“I don’t work for Julian,” I said, my voice still trembling. “And where I get
my money is none of your business. Now get the hell out of my face,” I said,
grabbing the stuff I needed to photocopy, and pushing past her. She smirked,
and turned away, clearly satisfied.

 
For the rest of the morning I felt horrible. Was everyone in the office judging
me for dating Julian? Was Paul looking down on me for it? He’d expressed his
concern, and I’d gone ahead and ignored his advice. Was I putting my career in
jeopardy? These same questions kept running in circles in my head for the rest
of the morning. By the time Julian called me at quarter to twelve, asking me to
meet him for lunch, I felt like a complete basket case. I was suddenly so
self-conscious that I told him I’d meet him in the lobby, worried that the
office might think I was flagrantly flaunting my relationship with the boss’s
partner.

 
I decided I needed to talk to Julian about this. At noon, I grabbed my purse,
and took off to meet him, the morning glow I’d walked in with now completely
gone.

***

 
Julian took me again to
Melinda’s
. He could tell in the car ride over
that there was something worrying me, but I told him I wanted to wait until we
got to the restaurant to talk about it.

 
Once we were settled in our seats at Julian’s regular table by the window, he
leaned forward, and said “Okay, tell me what’s wrong.”

 
I took a deep breath. “I’m worried that dating you is hurting my career,” I
said frankly.

 
Julian’s brow furrowed, and he reached for my hand. “Who’s giving you that
impression? Paul? Because if he’s coming down on you for this I swear– ”

 
“It’s not Paul,” I blurted out. “He’s been good about not interfering. It’s
just, well, I feel people are judging me for it.”

 
Julian took a big gulp of his water, and squeezed my hand. He was about to say
something when a tall, burly, middle-aged man in a beige linen suit appeared at
our table. “Julian McGregor,” he said, reaching out his hand.  For a split
moment, annoyance flashed across Julian’s face. Then his expression cleared,
and he smiled at the man.

 
“Peter Sanders,” he said in a businesslike tone, “Good to see you.”

 
The moment his name was mentioned, I knew who he was. A major Hollywood
executive producer who had purchased several scripts over the years from
clients of Cooper McGregor. His shrewd brown eyes glimmered with intent, and
the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “I hear Paul is selling a new
thriller.
Bourne Identity
meets
The Matrix
. I’ve read the script,
and I’m interested.” His eyes were hard, frank.

  
I snapped to attention. Julian must have noticed my expression, because he
gestured toward me and said, “This here is Sarah Stevens. She actually
discovered that script.”

 
The producer’s eyes skated over me. His eyes lingered too long on my chest. He
grinned at me in a slightly lecherous way, and said, “That’s great, darlin’,”
then winked at Julian, nodding in approval. “Anyway,” he continued, turning his
attention back fully to Julian, “Let Paul know I’ll be calling him this
afternoon with an offer.”

 
Julian’s face was tense, but he nodded. The producer gave him a tap on the
shoulder, and strolled back to his table.

 
I felt a strangled scream rise up in my throat. This was it. This was my
nightmare. Having my achievements undermined or ignored, because I was seen
simply as the pretty girl on a powerful man’s arm. And isn’t that what I was?
My worst fears had just been realized. Sleeping with Julian had reduced me to
arm candy. No one in the business would take me seriously again, I was sure of
it. An image of my mother welled up from my memory. Dressed in a beautiful red
Givenchy dress, holding on to my dad’s arm dutifully while he spoke to other
businessmen, nodding politely, and hardly speaking, knowing it was her role to
be seen rather than heard.

 
“Julian, I can’t do this,” I said, grabbing my purse and getting up from my
seat.

 
“Sarah,” he said, sternly. “Sit down.”

 
“I can’t. I feel humiliated,” I said.

 
He gave me a level stare. “Sarah, Peter Sanders is part of the old boy’s club.
He sees women as pieces of ass, no matter how successful they are. Don’t give
him this kind of power.”

 
My lip trembled. “But I don’t have any power,” I said. “I’m a rookie. And I’m
dating my boss’s partner.”

 
Julian rose, and reached across the table for my hand. “Sit, Sarah.”

 
I felt fury lash through me. “I’m not your dog,” I said. “I don’t take orders
from you.”

 
“Sarah,” he repeated, his tone pleading. “Let’s order, and discuss this over
lunch.”

 
I shook my head, and fought back the tears. “I’m done, Julian. I’m done with
this. I’m not going to be that girl, okay? It’s just not going to happen.”

 
I grabbed my purse, and hastily made my way toward the entrance. As I pushed
through the door, Julian grabbed my arm and spun me around. “Don’t leave like
this,” he said, his eyes gripping mine.

 
A number of heads on the patio turned to stare. I didn’t care. All I could
think of at that moment was getting away from Julian, getting into the cab, and
heading somewhere quiet where I could process my feelings. “I’ve got to go,” I
said forcefully, and pulled my hand away.

 
I made it to the curb, and hailed a cab. Once I was settled inside, I looked
out the window. Julian was standing beside the cab, staring at me, his eyes
pained, his whole body tense. I tore my gaze away, turned my attention to the
cab driver, and gave him the address to the office.

 
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

 
As he pulled into traffic, I shot one last glance at Julian. He was still
standing in the same spot, his eyes on me, looking shocked. I shifted my eyes
away from him, peered straight ahead, and didn’t once look back.

***

 
I spent the rest of my lunch in the downstairs lounge, picking at a yogurt
parfait, and thinking about what had just happened. I felt so conflicted. I
knew I was falling for Julian. Hard. I felt so safe with him, and he brought
out parts of me that had been lying dormant with Rob, and everyone else I’d
dated for that matter. The orgasms he’d given me were mind-blowing, and when he
told me to trust him, to lean on him, to, figuratively speaking, let myself
fall back into his arms, I knew I could do it. I just knew he would catch me.
The proof was in his actions. The first night at his place when I’d crumbled in
his arms, he’d held me up, then coaxed out a desire and vulnerability in me
that I rarely shared with anyone. He was so perceptive, so strong, so brutally
honest that there was literally no way to hide with him. Every other man I’d
ever been with had never been able to reach my core. But Julian was different.
He truly saw me. And he was hungry to learn everything he could about me.