The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Marcus (4 page)

The trouble was
that around Marcus her body appeared to have a mind of its own.

She'd no idea
what cologne he wore. Whatever it was he always smelled mouth
wateringly divine. And in the confined space that scent seemed to
deepen.

Her nostrils
flared gently as she indulged herself for a moment and took a
careful inhale.

The essence of
a healthy male in his prime mingled with a seductively erotic scent
that made her close her eyes. She opened them fast when she found
her body swaying towards him. How many times had she wondered what
he would taste like, what he would feel like buried deep...

Her nipples
hardened too tight, too fast.

God, Anais,
get a grip.

When her womb
clenched, in her head she chanted the periodic table in a desperate
effort to distract herself, but it was no use and the insistent
liquid throb low in her belly made her tighten the muscles in her
thighs.

When she'd
first started working for him, Anais reckoned she’d drawn the short
straw by being appointed as an assistant to the charismatic Marcus
Gillespie. His arrogance and domineering nature were legendary.
However, she'd learned so much in the time she’d worked with him
and his team. Through sixteen hour days, seven days a week, Anais
had come to realise she was in fact very lucky. Marcus tested her
mind and her resolve and her values. He was deeply interested in
her work and guided her with a firm hand through the minefield of
corporate strategy and politics.

Everything
would have been fine… except... for the edgy feeling that lived in
her gut.

More than once
she’d felt him staring at her with eyes that appeared darkly
brooding at times. She'd never caught him, but the hair on the nape
of her neck always rose when she just knew he was watching her. If
her dreams were filled with all the wicked things he’d do to her
body then, again, that was her problem and not his. But the trouble
was that since they'd arrived in China those dreams had become
darker, more erotic, in ways she couldn’t explain or understand.
Just two nights ago she’d woken up in a cold sweat with her heart
trying to burst through her ribcage. She’d slapped on the light,
raced to the bathroom to check that her neck was truly in one piece
and that he hadn’t bitten her. God, she'd been watching too many
vampire movies. Even more shocking had been the brutal yearning
beating a liquid heat low in her belly.

The aftermath
of the nightmare had lasted through a cold shower and yet another
sleepless night of the horrible ache deep in her womb; a need, a
hunger that she couldn’t comprehend.

Anais blinked
as the temperature in the elevator dropped by a good ten
degrees.

Even though
they didn’t speak, the strain between them was a living, choking
entity.

A cold sweat
broke out above her top lip as the doors opened and Marcus strode
out ahead of her.

Marcus swiped the key
card and swept through the double doors of the suite.

Pacing to the
floor to ceiling windows, he tugged off a conservative tie of blue
silk and undid the top three buttons of his pristine cotton shirt,
then he shrugged off his bespoke suit jacket.

Anais had never
seen him like this.

If there was
one thing Marcus was famous for it was his self-control and granite
features that never showed emotion.

But now he
turned to her.

Those amazing
eyes narrowed into slits as they met hers.

When she’d
first seen his face Anais had been awestruck by a raw masculine
beauty rarely seen outside of glossy magazines. She couldn’t decide
if he had the face of a Celtic warrior, all angles and plains with
a determined jaw, or the sculptured and deeply brooding face of a
fallen angel. Over the months she’d worked with him she’d come to
realise that within him Marcus had a bit of both.

He was an
enormous, powerful man with wide shoulders. To cope with the stress
of his chosen career, Anais knew he worked out daily in the company
gym. He might be toned and built but he was also long and lean with
narrow hips and a tautly flat stomach.

Hair the color
of jet was swept back from a high forehead.

That strong jaw
was clenched now.

Anais placed
the boxes of files she was carrying on a side table and wiped her
damp hand down the side of her Armani suit.

"Place the do
not disturb sign outside the door. Double lock the door," he
ordered. His voice was deep, a powerful bass. The Scottish accent
sounded stronger as it vibrated, shimmering through her system in a
way that made her mouth go bone dry. The pretty girls in the
administration group of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch always
said Marcus's voice alone made their knees go weak and Anais knew
exactly what they meant.

However, Anais
didn't do weak knees and she'd be damned if her knees were going to
start letting her down now.

He moved to
stand behind a wide desk.

Anais did as
she was told, placed the sign outside, double locked the doors and
walked back to stand before him.

Those blue eyes
found and pinned hers and her palms went slick again.

"What on earth
were you thinking, woman?" His temper was up.

Since Anais
wasn't quite certain exactly what she'd done, she kept quiet. And
all the while her mind raced, as it flew back to the events of the
meeting.

True, she
had
lost her focus, but only for a split second.

At the time
Marcus had been speaking to the Chinese minister of commerce.

She’d only
handed him a file.

And then
reality smacked her hard. Dealing with the culture differences, the
way the Chinese did business, was like doing an intricate and
complicated little dance, it was all in the timing and in the give
and take, and how each side spun a point to the other.

Now she frowned
as she realised that Marcus hadn’t given her the signal, the little
flick of the wrist, which would have warned her the time was right
to take the next step. She’d handed him the file too soon because
her attention had been diverted by what the aide had called her, a
jianhuo.
And to distract herself from the sting of the hurt,
and from making a fool of herself by scrabbling around on the floor
to pick up documents and papers, she'd sat down all hot and
flustered and found herself focused, helplessly fascinated, on
Marcus's beautiful hands with their strong fingers and trimmed
nails and just what those hands could do to her body.

Abruptly Marcus
stepped around the table, into her personal space.

His big hands
grabbed her shoulders and it was all she could do not to swoon to
the scent of his signature cologne and a furiously healthy
male.

"I asked you a
question."

She’d never
been this close to him before and she shivered in reaction.

Strong fingers
dug into her slim shoulders.

Anais tipped
her head back.

Her eyes
clashed with his.

Behind his
glasses his eyes were more brilliant, and she realised with
something like shock, they were the color of the deepest sapphire
blue.

Then her gaze
dropped to his wide mouth with that sensual bottom lip and she
nearly whimpered out loud.

She cleared her
throat and took a breath. "I messed up."

His wide chest
heaved as he gave her a little shake.

"Do you realise
how much a delay will cost?"

She did
realise.

A delay might
cost millions.

"I’m sorry,"
she whispered.

Even though the
situation she now found herself in wasn't her fault, and for Marcus
to blame her was unjust, unfair, Anais knew it was all over.
Mistakes were not tolerated in Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch.
Marcus, his brother James and Anais were in China representing
their biggest account, the pharmaceutical company belonging to
Constantine Mabille. Billions of dollars were at stake. As the most
junior member, Anais would have to take responsibility, take the
fall, for any postponement in the signing of the contracts.

Her heart
almost broke for the disappointment she was going to inflict on her
elderly parents. They’d each worked two jobs to put her through her
law degree, celebrating every single step of her achievements. The
couple had virtually built a shrine to her in the sitting room of
their small three bed roomed house.

Her eyes
filled.

She’d let them
down.

Her shoulders
slumped.

All those
years, all that work, and it had been for nothing.

She was
finished.

"You know the
rules?" Marcus's deep voice vibrated through her.

A heavy stone
of bitter disappointment weighed too heavy on her chest, making it
almost impossible to breathe.

The whole thing
was so terribly unjust.

Biting so hard
on her bottom lip it bled, Anais simply nodded.

‘
One strike
and you’re out.’
The words Marcus had spoken the day she’d
first stepped into his office rang in her brain, which was why
Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch were the best in the business.
Every partner had to be at the top of their game.

She desperately
wanted privacy, to weep, but Anais understood that now was not the
time to break.

She'd have
plenty of time for a pity party later.

Instead, she
jerked up her chin, unflinchingly met his eyes.

"I
understand."

Then his hands
slid down her shoulders and gripped her elbows.

Those dark eyes
changed.

"I asked you a
question. What was going through your mind?"

How could she
tell him she'd been dreaming of his hands on her?

Heat scorched
her cheeks, but Anais found she couldn’t tear her eyes away from
his.

His touch, even
through the fabric of her suit, seared her flesh and something like
panic rose into her throat.

However, she
couldn't help the wave of frustrated fury that also swept through
her system.

She wanted to
cry out,
'I'd just been called a whore
.'

His eyes went
wide.

The ridiculous
sensation swept over her that he could read her mind.

'Fight,
woman,'
a voice abruptly demanded in her mind.
'Fight for
what you want. What do you have to lose?'

Annoyed by how
he was holding her, by how he was looking at her, Anais reeled out
of his grip and then spun back to face him.

She never lost
her temper.

Never.

But she lost it
now.

"What does it
matter? In my opinion you are being completely unfair to blame me
for the fact that the contract isn't signed. The Chinese
negotiators have been practicing avoidance and dodging for days.
You've lost face with our hosts. I
told
you it was a bad
idea to bring me along. We share a suite. It doesn't matter that my
rooms are separate from yours. They think I'm your
Qie
or as
I was called today, your
jianhuo
. They are deeply
offended."

Now those dark
eyes narrowed. "Who called you a whore?" he asked in a deceptively
soft voice. There was nothing soft about Marcus Gillespie.

"What on earth
does it matter now?" Anais retorted furiously. "There's nothing you
can do about it. As you well know, if you make a fuss and make
them
lose face the contract will be lost." Her response
simply won her a stony stare, and she had an almost overwhelming
urge to throw something heavy at his too handsome head. "I've
worked too damn hard, for too damn long, to lose my position now,
Marcus."

Had she
really
just called him Marcus?

Her heart was
thundering against her ribs, in her ears.

Well, she'd
done it now. Nothing like burning her boats. No way would the great
Marcus Gillespie permit a lowly assistant to talk to him in that
tone.

Silence.

"Okay." Marcus watched
her clench and unclench her hands. The girl was wound so tight her
whole body was almost humming like a tuning fork. He was delighted
to have her on edge and nervy, exactly where he wanted her. "Have
dinner with me tonight at the
Pepper
club and we'll talk
about it."

Almond shaped
eyes the color of bitter chocolate and edged with thick forest of
black lashes stared back at him. Anais was exquisite. She was
delicately formed and one of the most beautiful women Marcus had
ever seen. And in two hundred plus years he'd seen plenty. In heels
her head came up to his shoulder. The black suit she wore was
immaculate, as was the ivory silk shirt buttoned to the neck. She
was wand slim and had fabulous legs showcasing black heels. Her
hair was the color of a raven's wing, a glossy blue black and her
honey-toned skin was flawless. But it was the cheekbones and the
killer mouth with bee stung lips that did it for him.

Every.

Single.

Time.

By the way her
beautiful eyes went wide, his dinner invitation had surprised
her.

"Certainly
not," she said in a voice that sounded like a queen talking to a
serf.

Shoulders back,
chin up, she turned towards the door.

"Scared?" The
question, gently mocking, stopped her in her tracks.

It was a direct
challenge, and Marcus wondered how she would react.

Anais looked
over her shoulder, narrowed those exotic eyes and he saw the
precise moment she picked up the baton.

"I'll meet you
in the hotel bar at seven-thirty."

"It's a
nightclub, Anais," he said in a silky tone that he knew would
annoy, and sure enough, a flush heated her smooth cheeks. "It
doesn't open until ten o'clock. Why don't you get some rest? The
meetings have been full on. We haven't seen anything of the City. I
think we could both do with the break. We'll meet here at
ten-thirty, have a drink. What do you say?"