Unleashing the Receptionist: ...the Receptionist, Book 3 (9 page)

“She’s a liar and a cheat and she set it up so we thought you were from the IRS.”

He slumped against the edge of the sink and sunk his head into his hands. “Impersonating an IRS auditor is a federal crime. I would never do that.”

“If it helps, you didn’t impersonate one very well. They were onto you right away. I’m the only one you fooled.”

He reached out and grabbed my arms. I guess that showed how desperate he was, to touch me. “You have to believe me. How could I impersonate anyone? I’m just a schlub. A pervy schlub who j-j-j-acks off to tapes of sexy women.”

“You think I’m sexy?” I’m easily distracted by compliments.

He gave me a “you’ve got to be kidding” look, then returned to his posture of despair. He was a pathetic sight, slumped against the sink, his belt off kilter.

“Look, Standish, you’re not a perv. Or a schlub. Well, maybe a bit of a schlub. As long as that means what it sounds like.”

“What does it sound like?”

“Umm…sloppy weirdo?”

“Yeah, that’s about right.” He looked so downcast that I couldn’t help it. I gave him an encouraging punch in the arm.

“Don’t be so down on yourself.”

“I got off on watching you. I couldn’t help myself. I told myself to stop, but you were so beautiful, so sensual, I just couldn’t. Don’t you hate me now?”

“No, goofy. Don’t you realize that I set you up? I knew you were watching the whole time. I put that monitor in there.”

A parade of expressions flitted across his face, shock followed by confusion followed by amazement. “Wow. You’re like Mata Hari or something. You should work for the CIA.”

I snorted. “I’m a Bond Girl all right.” He just didn’t know what sort of bonds. “I’m pretty happy here at Cowell & Dirk, actually. But thanks for the compliment… Oh no. Please don’t.”

Now he was crying. Big fat tears rolled down his round cheeks. He looked like a ten-year-old caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“I—I think there’s something wrong with me, Ms. Arthur. I’m sick. I’m twisted.”

“Do you mean sexually?” I put on an understanding face, feeling like a therapist.

“Yes,” he wailed, unable to look me in the face. “What kind of person likes to watch other people have sex?”

“Um…lots of people. In case you hadn’t heard, there’s this little thing called porn. It’s even online now too, imagine that!”

“Yes, but…you know when you bent over, and then Mr. Dirk came in and, and…”

“Spanked me?”

“Yes. That was very sexy.” He looked absolutely miserable. Poor dude. It sucks when you can’t accept your own sexuality, whatever it is. “I…I climaxed right away. I couldn’t help it.”

“Look, Standish, have you ever hurt anyone, I mean, in a way they didn’t consent to? Have you ever done something during sex that the other person didn’t want?”

“No! I would never do that!” He looked shocked. “Actually, I…well…haven’t had much. Sex.”

My pity for him deepened. I wanted to adopt him.

“Have you ever done what you did today, jerked off while watching someone who didn’t know you were watching?”

“No! I just rent movies.”

“Then there’s nothing wrong with you. So what if you like to watch? So what if you like it kinky? Guess what?” I leaned a little closer. “You’re not the only one.”

He peered at me through his tears. “You mean, I’m not a freak?”

“No, you are. The thing is, everyone’s a freak. You need to own your freakiness, dude. Admit it, enjoy it, and find a way to get your freak on without harming anyone else.”

“I’m a freak?”

“Say it with me. I’m a freak and I’m proud.”

At first he scrunched up his face and refused, but then after a few tries he played along. “I’m a freak and I’m proud.”

“There, how does that feel?”

“Good, I guess. I’ve never talked with anyone about these things before.”

Poor Peter Standish. My heart went out to the guy.

“The good news is, I believe you. I never thought you were a criminal mastermind playing some deadly game of cat and mouse with Cowell & Dirk.”

Beaming with relief, he pushed his glasses back into place.

“And you don’t mind that I…you know?”

“Actually, I like it.” I brushed my hands together. “Now I figure you’re completely and totally in my power, right?”

A dubious frown creased his forehead. “Really?”

“Do you want me to let Margo Lang know that her guy was caught jerking off by the receptionist? Worse, do you want me to tell Simon and Ethan, I mean, Mr. Cowell and Mr. Dirk?”

He went white. “My God.”

“Exactly. Of course, I would never do either of those things.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Nope. I like you. And I’m really glad I was right about you, because that restores my faith.”

“In mankind?”

I snorted. “No, my faith in my own instincts. I don’t have faith in mankind, per se, although certain men are a different story. Anyway, my little accountant-slave, I have a deal to offer you.”

“A deal?”

“Yes, a very sweet deal that will help all of us.” I help up a hand before he got too excited. “Except Margo. You have a problem with that?”

He shook his head. “She’s a horrible boss. I don’t like her at all. I’m only working for her because, well, because she’s, there’s something about her that makes me do what she says.”

Dominatrix, CEO…sometimes the lines were hard to distinguish. Standish needed a strong hand. And I’d learned from the master. Two masters, really. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about a thing. Now you can do what I say instead of what Margo says.”

“I guess.” Still unconvinced.

I could tell he wanted to trust me, wanted to go along with me.

“Listen, Standish. What kind of a boss sets you up like this? You could go to prison and she wouldn’t blink an eye. She tried to send Simon to jail. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself. You deserve a better boss than that.”

“I do?”

“Have you ever heard the saying, with great power comes great responsibility?”

He nodded.

“That’s the motto my bosses live by. They always put my well-being—” read, orgasms, “—first. They always make sure I’m well taken care of.” Read, well pleasured. “If I ever have any concerns, their doors are open.” Not to mention their stash of sex toys. I sighed, thinking once again of what a great job I had.

“Don’t you deserve a workplace that makes you feel wanted and valued?” Not to mention stroked and satisfied?

“Don’t you want to walk in and know you’re among people who care about you, people you can trust, people you can communicate with? The boss-employee relationship is a two-way street. Each side gives something, and each side takes something.” In our case, that something would be pleasure. Not that he needed to know that.

I peered at his face, trying to read his expression behind his glasses. “Am I getting through to you here?”

“I think so,” he said slowly. “You’re saying Margo isn’t treating me right.”

“Power, but no responsibility. She bosses you around, but she isn’t watching out for you. My bosses would never do that. They’d protect me no matter what.”

He twisted his hands together. “They sound like really good bosses.”

He had no idea.

“Stick with me, kid, and everything will be all right.” I raised one wicked eyebrow at him. “If you’re really good, maybe I’ll give you a special treat when this is all done.”

So, right there in the men’s room, we made our deal.

Later, I covered for Standish while he called Margo from the men’s room. He set to his mission with an enthusiasm that told me I’d definitely made my point. I had no idea I could be so persuasive. I guess when it came to my favorite topic—my bosses—I had a hidden talent.

When Ethan stopped by my desk, asking why Standish wasn’t in the file room, I crossed my fingers under the desk and said he had to skip out for a dentist appointment. He gave me a long, probing dose of Blue Fury. I stood up to it. Everything I was doing was for the sake of Cowell & Dirk. He’d just have to trust me.

It was harder when Simon stopped by. Maybe because Simon had trained me, or maybe because of the love I had for him, whatever the reason, I hated misleading him.

“Standish is running some errands,” I told Simon, even though he hadn’t asked, guilt written all over my face.

“Fine.” He gave me a mild glance. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“I know my Dana. Something’s bothering you.”

“Simon.” I stood up, feeling his moss-green gaze follow every movement. “You know I love this firm and would do anything in my power for it.”

He raised one eyebrow.

“And I love you. I would never hurt you.”

“Dana.” He planted his hands on the desk and leaned toward me. “Likewise. Now stop worrying.”

I let out a sigh and sank back into my seat. “Yes, sir.”

“Ethan and I will be at a meeting until later this afternoon. Hold down the fort, okay?”

“You got it.”

As soon as he’d gone, shrugging on his jacket as he disappeared down the hall, I scurried to the men’s room.

“What did she say?”

“Says she’ll meet me at the Great Wok in half an hour.”

“Perfect.”

I ran back to my desk and took a video camera from the bottom drawer. Small, handheld, but powerful, it would be perfect. I handed it to him and showed him how it worked. I went into Simon’s office and found a jacket, tie, and a deer hunter hat that would hide most of Standish’s face.

“Get dressed in these, she’ll never recognize you. Can you manage without glasses?”

“I brought my contacts.”

I screwed my face up, remembering how awkward he’d been with those contacts the first day I’d met him.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ve been practicing at home. I’ve gotten it down to twenty blinks a minute.”

“Okay, fine, put your contacts on, then go find a spot in the restaurant, like in the corner or something. Just set the video camera on the table. Don’t be obvious about it. Hide it behind a drink or something. Then when she gets there, just nudge the camera so it points our way.”

Standish rubbed the back of his neck, looking rueful. “First I was impersonating the IRS, now I’m impersonating the FBI.”

“You want to back out?”

“Nah. We made a deal. I never back out of deals. Besides, I have a thing for video, you know.”

I snickered. We shared a moment of amusement at the irony. Once again, I thought how much I liked Peter Standish. When I thought of how Margo had tried to manipulate him, my blood boiled.

That woman had a big dose of revenge coming her way.

Chapter Nine

At the Great Wok of China, I spotted Belinda collecting orders to deliver. I waved and watched her perk up with excitement. I shrugged an apology—no, I wasn’t there with an invitation from Ethan. I ordered a coffee and hot and sour soup, then picked a table with a view of the door. I spotted Standish in the corner, hiding behind his deer hunter hat. He’d done just as I said. The camera was sitting casually next to his elbow. He should be able to get a good shot. If not, I had my own backup in place.

As I was stirring cream into my coffee, Margo walked in as if she owned the entire state of New York—if not the whole planet. She wore a power suit in rust, black high-heeled boots, and she carried a patent leather briefcase over her shoulder. She wasn’t the type of person you usually saw in Low-Life. Manhattan was her turf. I could picture her slitting a competitor’s throat over brunch at Nobu, or gutting some poor employee right before her manicure at the Estee Lauder salon.

So what if I didn’t have her background or success? I wasn’t here to compare penthouse apartments or executive bonuses. Besides, I’d take an executive boner any day. I rose to my feet and waved her to my table. She paused when she saw me. I’d taken her by surprise, which was good. She didn’t even look around for Standish but headed straight for me. Another lucky break.

“Margo Lang.” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Receptionist,” she drawled, her lips red with a shade of lipstick that totally clashed with her dark red hair. Maybe Vogue recommended that combo, but it made her look harsh and bloodthirsty. “I didn’t catch your name before.”

It’s “your worst nightmare”.
That’s what I wanted to say, but didn’t. “Dana Arthur.”

She shrugged one shoulder, as if she couldn’t be bothered to remember such a trivial detail. Not that I cared.

“Have a seat,” I told her.

“Why?”

“Because I have what you want.” That was completely true, but not in the way she thought. “And I’m willing to give it to you.” That part was entirely untrue.

Her whole face sharpened, like a cartoon fox. “Interesting. What have you done with…?” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t know how much I knew, after all.

“With Standish? He’s back in the office, still on his little wild-goose chase. Really, sit down. Would you like some coffee?”