Owned: An Alpha Anthology (12 page)

DEBONAIR: PART 1 BY JANI KAY

11 - Brooklyn

The next five days went relatively okay. We found a rhythm that we could work to without disturbing one another. My boss was on the phone most of the time, using his Bluetooth device so that he didn’t need to hold the phone to his ear all day. For a man, he was pretty capable of multitasking, and I had to give him props for that.

He’d explain what he needed me to do, show me a few examples on the computer, then watch me as I tried on my own. A few times he’d lean over me, his cologne wafting into my nostrils, and the heat of his body radiating so strongly that I’d shifted in my chair to put more distance between us.

His hands were well manicured, his nails perfectly squared. We hadn’t physically touched yet, so I couldn’t help myself wondering what they would feel like on my body. His fingers flew over the keyboard—I'd never seen a man type so fast. Efficient and determined. It wasn’t effeminate, nor did it make him look like a pussy.

"Miss Bennett, tonight we need to leave early, so be sure to finish up by four at the latest." He lifted his head from the stack of papers he was examining and tapped his pen on his desk while scrutinizing me. I was leaning over my desk, my ass in the air while sorting through reports spread over the entire surface. Stunned, I peered over my glasses at him, my mouth forming a silent
O
. In the week I’d been here, we’d never left the office before nine p.m., so this was definite an early night for him.

Does he have a date tonight
?

I nodded, indicating that I understood, but didn’t question him. I was pretty exhausted by the long hours I’d been working, so an early night would be sheer bliss. Not fully recovered from jetlag yet, my body clock was completely out of sync, so I'd wake at random times during the night and struggle to get back to sleep. It was in those times I’d lie awake and question my sanity of being so attracted to Tyler Sinclair when I knew it couldn’t go anywhere.

His playboy reputation had filtered through to me from the other women during the odd times I got to go to the kitchen or cafe on the lower floors. There was always a group of ladies gossiping about my boss, and a few times his name was linked to that of Samantha Williams’. Speculations of them hooking up at the last office function were rife. I'd listen, but never comment, since I hadn’t been at the firm at the time, and I didn’t know the woman in question. All I could gather was that she was the owner’s daughter, very beautiful and sexy, and a real bitch.

I loathed people who had a sense of entitlement simply because they were born into it, but I decided to suspend my judgment until I actually met her. Apparently she liked dropping into the office to stir things up and hit on all the guys, playing them up against one another.

Tyler Sinclair’s gaze drifted over my body, and it felt as if he were undressing me with those sinful eyes, causing heat to rise from my chest up to my face. My glorious tan had started to fade, due to lack of being out in the daylight, so I wasn’t sure if he noticed the blush that would be more obvious on my paler skin. A wicked smile spread over his mouth, making it difficult to ignore him. He tapped the pen against his lips, drawing attention to them.

"No arguments?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The glint in his eyes told me he enjoyed teasing me.

I shook my head. "None whatsoever. I'm going to soak in the bathtub and crawl into bed with the book I started reading on the plane and haven’t had time to finish." I yawned, then stretched my limbs thinking about it.

"Not so fast. Yes to the bath, but only a short soak. You will be accompanying me to the boss’s dinner function tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty, sharp. Don’t be late . . . Williams detests late arrivals, so I don’t want to piss him off."

"What? That was never part of the agreement—"

He laughed. "Ahhh . . . and we are back with arguments. Thought that was too good to be true."

"Mr. Sinclair, I never agreed in any part to attend social functions. And . . . um, won’t Miss Williams be there?" It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. There was no way in hell I was getting involved in this, although I’d been curious as hell to see what Samantha Williams looked like in person. Of course I’d Googled her after I’d heard the rumors, and had to admit that she was breathtakingly beautiful and very photogenic. She was all over the society news, and pretty much treated as a celebrity, with the paparazzi following her every move. I had drooled over her designer outfits, and promised myself that one day, I would spoil myself and own at least one ensemble as well.

"Samantha has nothing to do with this. And don’t flatter yourself. I'm not inviting you as a date."

Ouch; that stung.
He rose from his chair and stood in front of the large window with his back to me, tucking both hands into his pants pockets and staring out for a long moment. 

He turned to face me, a solemn look on his face. "If you want an education in business and how it
really
operates, you should accept every social invitation you possibly can. That’s where the real bonding happens, and where the most lucrative deals are born." He closed the distance between us and came to stand beside my desk. His nearness disturbed my concentration, so I stopped handling the papers and straightened my back, tilting my head to focus on his deep voice. The weight with which he was imparting this information surprised me.

"Rich people want to know who’s managing their money—they like to get a feel for your strengths and weaknesses before they hand over their fortune to you for investing. And there’s nowhere better to find this information than at parties, where alcohol, drugs and sex are freely available. They will scrutinize your every action and judge you on your behavior."

I chewed on my bottom lip as I soaked up this information. "I guess you have a point."

As a student, I’d lived a pretty boring life. I’d studied hard, while also juggling two part-time jobs to help pay the bills. Partying was the furthest thing from my mind. It seemed frivolous and time consuming. I'd never considered that it could actually be useful. Trust this man to teach me that.

"You bet I do." A small smile twisted at the corners of his mouth. "How do you think I got to where I am today without an Ivy League education? Through working the crowd at social functions, my dear. By staying one step ahead of everyone else, and using my brain." He tapped the side of his head. "It's not only them judging me . . . I choose my clients wisely. I can distinguish between those who have the balls for high-risk investments, and those who’d jump from the top of a building if they lost a few hundred thousand dollars in a downward spiral. It pays to observe people, Miss Bennett, and there’s nowhere better to do that than in a social setting."

As reluctant as I was to admit it, I could totally understand his strategy. It was smart and prudent. While people let their guard down, partying hard, Tyler Sinclair was discreetly analyzing the crowd for potential clients.

"So, what I'm really offering you tonight is a chance to see into a world I doubt you know exists. Where the excesses of the rich and famous are on display, and people try to outperform one another. It's a game, Miss Bennett and it's called The Survival of the Fittest. He who can outsmart his competitor is the winner."

"Or she," I butted in, excited by the prospect of being drawn into this new world. He made it sound thrilling. Daring. I was hooked.

He smiled, giving me a knowing look that made my toes curl. "Learning by experience trumps textbook knowledge every time, Miss Bennett. You can have all the degrees in the world, and still be dumb as fuck when it comes to reading people. Let me teach you the art of choosing clients wisely."

My heart pounded. I was eager to explore where I'd never gone before. Something about the way he pitched this had me looking forward to learning more in a way I never would’ve believed possible.

"You appear excited by the idea." He tilted his head and smiled, seemingly pleased by my reaction.

I nodded, a little breathless by the way he beamed at me. He’d struck a chord—I loved new experiences that broadened my horizons. And if I could observe the master himself at work, I’d be in heaven. I blinked up at him. "Yes, I am. You make it sound so . . . intriguing."

This time, the smile reached his eyes, forming small creases at the corners. "Wear something sexy. Make the most of your cleavage. And it wouldn’t hurt to show some leg as well." He winked at me while grinning from ear to ear. Damn, I liked playful Tyler Sinclair. He was sexy as hell, and I totally got why all the females in the firm swooned over him and wished they could date him.

His earlier words ran through my head.
"It's not a date. Don’t flatter yourself."

It's just business. Smart business.

"I . . . um . . ." How could I explain that I didn’t possess such an item in my wardrobe and that I didn’t exactly have the funds to purchase something new? Besides, I didn’t have the time to go shopping even if I did have the money.

One eyebrow shot up at my hesitation. "Miss Bennett, is there a problem?"

On the verge of lying to him, I thought better of it and decided to be honest and come clean. "Yes, actually, there is." I lowered my eyes as embarrassment washed over me. My skin felt hot and damp and my stomach dropped. "I don’t have anything appropriate in my wardrobe. I like to travel light, and I didn’t expect to need a cocktail dress in my first week of employment."

He let out a long breath. "If that’s your only problem, it's not a problem at all." He wasn’t making sense. It was a huge freaking problem to me. A completely insurmountable one. Even if Cassidy had brought such a dress, there was no way I'd risk borrowing another item of clothing from her after the coffee fiasco with her white blouse. Besides, her dress most likely would be all wrong on me.

Moving back to his desk, Mr. Sinclair opened the drawer and pulled something from it, then walked back to where I stood, cringing.

"We have backup for such an event. Use this credit card to get something nice. Try Fifth Avenue . . . and it's okay if you leave at three this afternoon." He smiled as he held the plastic card out to me. "Get shoes, and all the matching stuff women need, too."

I sucked in a breath. "I couldn’t possibly do that." I shook my head in disbelief. I’d never used a credit card in my life. If Mum and I didn’t have the cash, we simply didn’t buy it. Although we didn’t have much, everything we owned was debt-free. Mum didn’t believe in adding extra stress to our lives by racking up huge debt with exorbitant interest rates that were a noose around her neck. If we really wanted something, we’d work extra shifts and save till we could afford it.

"This card is here for a reason. To be put to good use. Take it," he commanded.

"I can’t—"

He took my hand in his and unfolded my fingers before laying the plastic card in my palm. "It's easier than you think. You don’t want to piss Williams off, and if he finds out you’re an employee and not suitably dressed, some heads will be rolling—possibly even mine." He was still holding my hand in his, so I felt the shiver that ran through him.

Was Tyler Sinclair afraid of losing his job? Or maybe he feared Williams’ wrath? 

"Well . . . if you’re absolutely sure? I’ll repay it when I get my first paycheck," I said, grateful for a way out of my predicament.

"Don’t be ridiculous.  Once you see their mansion and the excess his wife and daughter are accustomed to, you’ll realize it’s small change to the company. And it will be money well-spent. It's all about image at McAdams and Williams—no expense is spared to impress clients."

I closed my fingers over the card and pulled my hand away.

What the hell had I agreed to? Was I going to stand out—not in a good way—and make a fool of myself? I'd be out of my depth moving in the circles of the ultra rich. I could only hope I wouldn’t choke and die a slow death.

Tyler looked at his watch. "It's nearly three thirty. I think I can let you go an extra thirty minutes earlier."

My eyes widened. "What about the—"

"Get out of here before I change my mind. And be ready when I get there to pick you up." His voice was husky, as if he didn’t want me to leave. Perplexed, I stared at him for a moment before I remembered my manners.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue. I see I have a lot more to learn than the obvious."

He grinned down at me. "Those, Miss Bennett, are the truest words you have spoken. You don’t even know what you don’t know. And I look forward to showing you . . .
everything
."

The heat in his gaze and the way he said it gave me the distinct impression he wasn’t referring to work only. But what the hell did I know? I was only the very green and inexperienced intern. It seemed my training had a long way to go. Luckily, my mind was sharp, and I was a fast learner.

I grabbed my purse before he actually did change his mind and made my way to the door, the plastic card safely tucked in my pocket. As I turned the doorknob, I heard him clear his throat behind me.

"One last thing. Tonight, everything changes. Your training takes on a completely new level."

I gaped at him, but he’d already turned his attention to the phone that had started ringing. I would have loved to ask him what he meant by that.