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“Are you laughing at me, baby?”
“Maybe a little,” she says softly.
“Hmm,” I lean back down to growl in her ear. “I could take you over my knee right now and spank those giggles right out of you…”
She squeaks breathlessly and with interest. My eyebrows go up. Maybe I haven’t screwed this up so badly after all. Still, it needs to be something she consciously chooses. I go back to my original plan and alter it slightly.
“You have a choice to make, Leanne. But it’s not the one you’re thinking. Make no mistake, you belong to me. But unfortunately there are demands on my time and I’m either here at work or at home with my daughter. So I need you to choose the venue.”
“For what, exactly? I don’t even know you!”
“You do. You just don’t want to admit it. But your soul recognizes mine, and the rest is basically paperwork. Like how you haven’t said my name once, baby. Do you need my permission?”
She sputters and I can feel my lips twitch. She’s entirely too easy and fun to tease.
“Say it, Leanne. Say my name.”
“Dominic,” she bites out, but with that whiskey tone she has when speaking French. I feel my cock growing hard.
“See? Not so hard, was it?” I curse inwardly at my unwitting pun. “Now where’s it going to be, my little siren?”
“For what, exactly? More interrogation? Food? Both?”
I grin. If this were easy, it wouldn’t be any fun. “All of the above.”
“But why?” she wails in frustration. I want to pick her up and kiss away her concerns, but that’s nowhere in the plan.
“So you trust me when I put you in my bed, Leanne.”
She gulps audibly. “But… it’s work and I…”
I let myself touch her cheek almost imperceptibly, but she turns towards my touch, anyway. “Work is not affected. You have thirty days, sweetness, starting today. But I won’t let your career be impacted.”
“Easy for you to say,” she mutters.
I lean down to remind her, “It is, because I have intel on every single board member and executive, baby. I wouldn’t be here if any of it was bad, but trust me, the guy that gets his caddy to do his swings for him when no one else is around doesn’t want that getting out.”
She stills, and I can tell she needs time to process what I’m saying. “So, back to your choice, Leanne. Either come by my place for dinner tonight or I’ll stop by your cubicle tomorrow so we can have lunch together. And that choice repeats every twenty-four hours.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Her sass is coming back.
“You do. The way you’re shifting in your seat says you’re getting wet at the thought of what I’m going to do to you.”
“Arrogant bastard,” she mutters in French. I’m by no means fluent, but I can recognize the phrases I’ve had hurled at me frequently over the years. That one does keep coming up.
“Absolutely,” I agree with her, mildly shocking her back into silence.
“Wait here until I turn the lights back on. I’ll leave the details for dinner on your desk.”
And with that, I silently leave the bland little room. The lighting is controlled from the small office next door, which also has other monitoring equipment, including an observation camera fitted into the ceiling. I give her a few minutes to settle and then flick the lights back on, watching her blink and glance around the room. She slowly rises to her feet, her sweet face holding a frown and very wide eyes. Did I take that too far? I don’t think so. There isn’t time to inch into this kind of water. I’ll make sure she doesn’t drown by diving straight into the deep end.
Leanne
Dominic Jamieson is a dangerous man, I conclude as I slowly make my way back to my desk. But also a gorgeous, sexy one. I don’t even entertain the notion of taking this to HR. For one, he never even touched me. Nor did I even see him for positive confirmation. So… just words. Which even to me sounds more like something out of a romance novel than real live workplace harassment. Dinner with his daughter. Hardly the stuff of coercion, although I’m not making excuses for his highhandedness. Arrogant bastard pretty much sums him up.
And I don’t doubt that he has dirt on the head of HR, too. And now I’m kinda curious what that might be. She looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and I’ll bet she doesn’t even blink at shopping where Marie works. Maybe she moonlights as an adult entertainment star. Yeah, I’m letting my imagination get away with me.
When I sink down in my chair at my desk, there’s a neatly written index card on my keyboard. With an address in the leafiest of suburbs and6 p.m. No message, just a time and a place. How did he get up here so fast? I really need someone to talk this over with. There isn’t time to find Pierre at the mall and I don’t know any of my coworkers well enough to trust them with this kind of information, even if I attempt to obscure identities.
