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“No. I don’t want to go downstairs, I don’t want to talk to you, and I don’t want to put the chef out. This is his prep period. If it will make you go away, I’ll order something in. Anybody else want Italian?”
“Italian sounds good,” said Seth. “How about I go order us something and have it delivered upstairs?”
“I can go, Seth,” she said obstinately, trying not to enjoy how unafraid she was of Brock.
“Gino’s delivers, and that’s where we always order. You said their cacio e pepe was the best you’d ever tasted,” said Brock, running his hand through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Seth, can you give us a minute?”
“I can give you all the time you need. Cacio e pepe all right with you, Alicia?”
“No, thanks. I think I’ll have their seafood lasagna.”
“Got it. Brock?”
“I think I’ll try the cacio e pepe.”
“Okay,” said Seth. “I’ll go order lunch.”
When the elevator doors closed, he stood over her with his arms crossed. Alicia was pretty sure he took that stance to intimidate people, but all it did for her was turn her on.
He put his hands on her desk—they were really sexy hands, especially now when she knew what they felt like on her skin—and leaned down.
“I’m not sure what happened last night or this morning, but tonight you and I are going to have a talk. We can either do that over dinner, or we can do that with you draped over my knee getting your first taste of discipline. I will email you the contract as soon as I get back upstairs. I suggest you read and sign it before you come up to the conference room.”
She watched him stalk back to the elevator, appreciating the fine way he moved and his even finer ass. The man was absolutely gorgeous.
She raised her chin defiantly. “And if I don’t?”
“We can start that discussion this afternoon.”
CHAPTER 10
BROCK
Brock entered the conference room to find a grinning Seth. “I guess our mousy little office manager isn’t quite so mousy.”
“I never thought she was mousy, and I don’t want you saying it, either,” growled Brock.
He supposed he could see where some might think her a little mousy. He’d been wrong. She’d been more than happy to go toe-to-toe with him and slug it out verbally. There had been absolutely no sign of fear in her. Most people were intimidated by his size and mass, but not Alicia. And most subs quaked if he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. She’d simply ignored him.
He wasn’t lying to Seth when he said he’d never thought of her as mousy. He’d thought of her more as a lovely deer—perhaps an impala, but this afternoon, down in the lobby, he had seen her for what she was—a lioness with teeth, claws, and an impressive roar of her own. Perhaps he’d been treating her too softly. Although he had to admit, she’d curled up in his lap and seemed to enjoy being stroked.
He was trying to figure out why things had gone so wrong, so quickly. Last night he would have gladly taken her to bed and fucked her long and hard with no D/s involved, but he sensed that Alicia longed for what he could provide her in the right relationship. Certainly, they should at least explore that. A contract would provide the structure for that kind of thing.
“Hello in there,” said Seth, breaking Brock’s reverie. “I’m going to assume you’d pretty much dismember anybody trying to take over this case.” Brock glared at him. “Right, but you need to put the caveman on a leash and bring out the Daddy Dom. I don’t think caveman will work for you. I think she’ll take Miley’s advice and kick your nuts up around your teeth. But you need to get a handle on her and bring her in line. It’ll be much harder to keep her in line if she’s bound and determined to handle this on her own.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, asshole.”
Among the operatives at Cerberus, asshole was a term of endearment—or when in the United Kingdom, arsehole.
Alicia arrived upstairs, holding two large bags of Italian food. She laid out the food, her face crinkling in confusion. “There are four entrée containers.”
“That’s because Brock insisted I order the cacio e pepe as well. He seemed to recall that you once told him the red sauce they have there was too acidic for you.”
“Thanks. Brock’s right. I love their red sauce, but it always upsets my stomach.”
Peace offering accepted. That was a good thing. Another good thing was the papers she was holding in her hand. At the very least, it meant she’d printed them out and had probably taken a look at them.
The three of them ate lunch, talking about various topics including the status of certain cases, the status of Miley and Damon—they were a committed couple, but Damon did not like being in Charleston while Miley was based in Chicago and often had assignments that took her outside the country. There had been some talk about Cerberus opening a branch in Charleston with Miley in charge. Both Fitz and Damon had loved the idea; Miley loathed it, and the plans for a Charleston office were put on hold.
