My Wicked Valentine (Club Wicked 1)

Club Wicked 1: My Wicked Valentine

Copyright © February 2013 by Ann Mayburn

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eISBN 9781623002541

Editor: Jana Armstrong

Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde

Published in the United States of America

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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might
be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names,
characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

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* * * *

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A flower cannot bloom without sunshine, and a man cannot live
without love.

—Max Muller

Acknowledgments

To my beloved readers, it is for you that I created this
world, so that in it, you can lose yourself in the arms of a man worthy of the
priceless gift of your submission.

To my fabulous beta-fish goddesses: Annette Stone, Dawn,
Cari Quinn, Catharine J., Kerry Vail, and Dawn Marie. You have my eternal
thanks for helping me bring
Wicked
to life.
J

Lucia Roa jabbed the illuminated button for the twelfth
floor with a shaking finger. As the doors slowly slid shut, she tried to take
in a calming breath but only succeeded in gasping for air like a drowning
swimmer. The floor beneath her cute royal-blue heels shifted as the elevator
began its upward climb, and her heartbeat increased with every floor.

Why had she let her mentor, Mrs. Florentine, talk her into
this? At the time it had seemed like a great idea. Mrs. Florentine had an
inside scoop on one of Washington, DC’s private and influential clubs needing a
new party planner, and she just knew Lucia would be perfect for the job. Of
course Lucia had never planned a party for anything bigger than a two-hundred
person bar mitzvah, and she had only recently graduated with an associate’s
degree from the local community college.

She was also the daughter of Mexican immigrants and still
worked twenty hours a week at her family’s restaurant to make ends meet—which
was a blessing because last month she’d had to choose between groceries and
having her lights on—but sure she was totally the best pick for throwing a
party for some of the most influential people in DC. Oh, and Mrs. Florentine
wouldn’t say what kind of private club this was or what kinds of parties they
expected.

Lucia was so going to nail this job.

Sure.

“
Dress sexy
,” Mrs.
Florentine had said. “
Wear something that
shows off your lovely curves. Own your femininity
.” So now not only was she
going into a business meeting woefully unprepared, she also felt like a tart. Instead
of the usual classy gray suit she wore to meetings, she was dressed in a
tight-fitting white pencil skirt that more than showed off her ample curves.
She paired the skirt with a royal-blue jacket that flattered her
caramel-colored skin while hiding her overdeveloped chest. The last thing she
wanted was to spend a business meeting with a man staring at her boobs instead
of her face. The men riding the Metro with her that morning had certainly
appreciated her outfit, if the catcalls and suggestive comments meant anything.

The elevator binged as it reached her floor, and she almost
dropped her briefcase. The doors slid open to reveal an elegant reception room
brightly lit by the sunlight streaming in the big windows. A white circular
receptionist’s desk dominated the center of the room, and the impeccably
dressed receptionist gave her a warm smile as she stepped out of the elevator.
Two other women sat in the white leather chairs flanking the desk, and they
both turned to face her.

The receptionist spoke into the phone at her desk before
looking over at Lucia. “Welcome to O’Keefe Industries. How may I help you?”

Lucia plastered what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her
face and walked past the two waiting women to the desk. “Hello. My name is
Lucia Roa, and I have an appointment with Mr. O’Keefe.”

The receptionist looked down at her computer screen and
nodded. “You’re a tad early, and Mr. O’Keefe is running a bit late. Please have
a seat. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” While she would have loved some
coffee, she could just see herself spilling it all over her clothes.

She took a seat across from the other two women, conscious
of how closely they watched her. Lucia recognized the woman on the left, a
lovely and perky blonde in a cream suit, from the society pages of the
newspaper and the local magazines. Her heart sank as she stole a glance at the
woman on the right. Mary Wellington, descendant of the Wellington oil family
and prominent fixture in Washington, DC, society. Also one of the premier party
planners with more connections than Lucia could ever dream of having.

She almost slumped back into her chair but caught herself.
No, she wasn’t going to give up before she even met with Mr. O’Keefe. So maybe
she had as much of a chance at landing this job as she had of being recruited
for the Tijuana soccer team, but darn it, with the right resources, she could
throw as good of a party as any of these women. After all, her family’s Tex-Mex
restaurant catered many of the top events in Washington, and she’d probably
been to more corporate balls and gatherings than both women combined. True,
she’d attended them as a waitress, but she paid attention to the small details.

The perky blonde got called in next, and Lucia crossed her
legs, resisting the urge to dig through her briefcase and double-check her
proposal. Well, actually
proposals
.
She really had no idea what kind of event they needed a planner for, but she
had proposals for everything from a ball to a polo match to a wine tasting.

Mary Wellington looked down her patrician nose and said in a
nasally voice, “Pardon me, you look familiar. Have we met before?”

Lucia flushed and shrank back into her seat. They’d run into
each other dozens of times over the years, but always while Lucia was working
for her family’s restaurant and catering business as a waitress. “I’m not sure.
You seem familiar too.”

Mary tapped her lips with a pale pink manicured nail. “Oh, I
know what it is.” She gave Lucia a smile that would have looked right at home
on a shark. “You’re one of the Roa girls. Are you here for the catering
position?”

Lucia gave an equally insincere smile. “No, I’m here for the
event planner job.”

The corners of Mary’s thin lips turned up. “Really?”

“Yes.” The word came out in a soft whisper, and Lucia
cleared her throat. “I recently started my own event planning company.”

“How…charming.”

Clutching her briefcase on her lap with both hands, Lucia
barely resisted the urge to smack that smug smile off the other woman’s face.
“Thank you.”

Mary opened her mouth to say something else, but the perky
blonde stormed through the reception area. She paused and gave both of them a
heated look. “Good luck dealing with that asshole.” She turned on her heel and
marched to the waiting elevator.

Both Mary and Lucia gaped at the blonde’s back as she
stalked into the elevator’s cab while the receptionist shook her head. The
phone on her desk rang, and she picked it up with a forced smile. “Ms. Roa,
he’s ready for you. His office is at the end of the hall.”

Lucia ignored Mary’s sniff of disdain as she stood and
smoothed her tight skirt. “Thank you.”

She went down the quiet hallway, passing beautiful works of
art hanging on the walls next to brass name plates on closed office doors. Her
heels sank into the thick cream carpeting, and she paused before the door at
the end of the hall, wiping her sweaty palms on her jacket. The brass plate
next to this door simply read Isaac O’Keefe, CEO.

Okay, this was it, the meeting that would either put her
event planning company on the map or be another waste of Metro fare. She
knocked on the door and opened it after a muffled “The door’s open” came from
the other side.

All the breath left her body in a soft whoosh as the most
handsome man she’d ever seen sat at his desk. She had a brief impression of a
large, well-lit corner office with a view of the Capitol, but all she could
really focus on was him. A lock of his thick black hair fell over his forehead,
and she had the inane urge to brush it away. He didn’t look up as she entered
or say anything, so she paused in the doorway, unsure of what to do. A slight
shadow of scruff darkened his square jaw.

Then he glanced up, and her world became suffused with
burning cold. Ice-blue eyes, so pale they were almost white, stared at her. She
felt stripped to the bottom of her soul. Heat immersed her, and when he licked
his lower lip, her nipples puckered to stiff peaks beneath her suit jacket, and
she was afraid she might spontaneously combust from desire.

She was in so much trouble.

* * * *

Isaac leaned back in his chair and tried to keep his lust
under control. An unusually beautiful woman stood in the doorway, framed by a
ray of sunlight. She wasn’t perfect, like the stunning and plastic society
women he was used to, but there was something about her that called to him. She
was all softness, heat, and if the warm look she was giving him was any
indication, his attraction wasn’t one-sided.

Her expression turned questioning, and he realized she was
waiting to be invited into his office. He brushed his hair off his forehead and
smiled. “Welcome, Ms. Roa. Please have a seat.”

When she turned to shut the door behind her, his cock
twitched in interest. He’d always been an ass man. She had an amazingly round ass,
high and tight. The kind of ass he could grab with both hands. The kind of ass
that would cushion the hard fucking he wanted to give her while she was tied to
his bedpost.

Whoa, where did those thoughts come from?

What the hell was wrong with him? This was a potential
employee, not a delicious woman he’d love to do wicked things with. He mentally
tried to shut the door on his libido, but when she crossed the room, she
reminded him of the way a cat walked, all sensual grace. He wondered if she was
new in town, because he surely would have remembered a submissive like this at
the club.

They shook hands, and she sat down across from him. After
she cleared her throat, she looked around for where to place her briefcase.
Young, not more than twenty-five, but with soft baby cheeks that made her seem
younger. Her dark brown eyes had a slight tilt to them, and she had that lovely
golden-brown skin color he adored on women. When his gaze reached her lips, he
shifted at how full they looked beneath her light coating of lip gloss. The
things he could do to those lips.