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I make my way around the room slowly, introducing myself, as promised, to each new hire in turn. I start at the front, and as I go, after a short chat, I dismiss each person to their new gig individually.
Naturally, I save the best for last.
I take my time talking to Tyrone, our newest development lead. He has a lot on his plate, fixing up the websites for some of our media clients. We do have a lot to discuss, but I also draw out our conversation, enjoying the tension on Mara’s face. She’s the last employee left to talk to.
When Tyrone and I shake hands and say goodbye, I step over to Mara. I wait, in silence, smiling down at her, enjoying the even brighter red flush on her cheeks, until the door of the office clicks shut behind Tyrone.
We’re alone, at last.
“So,” I say, grinning down at her, unable to conceal my amusement, “still planning on getting that restraining order?”
She sets her jaw, firm and stubborn. “Be pretty hard to get one on my boss.”
My smile widens. “Indeed.” Without waiting for a response, I reach down to catch her left wrist, gently disentangling her hands so I can see the left one.
She flinches, and I can tell she wants to pull her hand away, but she’s too stubborn for that. I can see it written all over her face, the instant when she decides to just let me do this. That she’ll wait. She unclenches her fist, and I gently stretch out her fingers, trying to ignore the flash of memory, back to when these narrow, delicate hands of hers were wrapped around my thick cock.
I pry her left finger up, just an inch, just far enough to spin the ring around and see the diamond. My mother’s ring, until my father bought her a newer, bigger, gaudier one. Sometime after I earned my first billion and bailed them both out of debt.
Everyone thinks my family is old money rich. We used to be. But through a series of thieving relatives, gambling addictions and even worse alcoholism that my grandparents enjoyed, by the time my parents went on their own spending sprees, there was nothing left for my sister and me. Not even enough to pay for our college educations. So I put myself through school, hell bent on earning enough in whatever career I chose in order to pay for my sister’s college next.
I managed that and then some. I even got enough to help my parents out, though they’ve never thanked me for it.
Their only response has been to pressure me, constantly. Asking about when I’ll get engaged, when I’m bringing the lucky lady home, when I’ll have a baby to carry on their lineage. Their lineage, never mine.
I suppress a smile. My mother would have a heart attack if she knew how this ring got onto this sexy little kitten’s finger this weekend.
Then again, my mother would be revived from joy if she realized that I intend to stick this out. I intend to make this marriage work, if I can. Not for my family, or even to spite them by running off with a girl in Vegas of all places. But because of the way Mara tilts her chin to look at me now, her eyes alight with defiance, even in the face of all the upper hands I have now.
“You’re still wearing it,” I tell her, softly.
“I couldn’t get it off,” she replies coolly, gaze narrowed. “Trust me, it doesn’t mean anything except that I opted not to find some bolt cutters this morning.”
I chuckle, more at the mental image of my mother screaming, watching her ring snapped off by bolt cutters. “Well, it’s your ring now,” I tell her, not about to explain the complicated history behind it.
Besides, something tells me Mara won’t cut it off. Not yet. She’s stubborn in the same way that I am. And as much as she hates to admit it, she’s realizing now how much we truly have in common.
“So you don’t care if I keep this and pawn it?” She arches an eyebrow, considering the diamond anew. “It looks pretty expensive.”
“It was,” I reply simply. “So does this mean you still want the divorce?”
She snorts, as if I’m joking. When I don’t join in, she levels me with another suspicious stare. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well.” I tilt my head and gesture at the room around us, freshly emptied of employees, but still reeking of power, privilege. And this is the smallest office we have in the building, or any of our buildings. “As you’ve probably realized by now, I am massively wealthy.”
“I don’t care about that.” She rolls her eyes.
I furrow my brow. “Most people do. Think about it. With this kind of wealth, you’d never need to work a day in your life.”
At that, her hackles rise. She shoves out of her chair, even though standing she still barely comes up to chest height on me. Still, there’s something sexy about the way she’s trying to take charge, against me of all people. She holds up a finger. “One, I’ve wanted to work in this industry since childhood, and I have no plans to quit on the first damn day of it. No amount of money would make me just give up on my dreams because they’re not about money.” She pauses to swallow, her jaw still set, her gaze hard on mine. “And two.” She lifts a second finger. Now her fingertips tremble, ever so slightly, but just enough to give away the emotion she’s trying hard to contain. “I would never take advantage of someone like that. No matter who they were, or how much they irritated me,” she adds, probably to disguise the hint of fury sparking in the corners of her eyes.
I take a step closer, unable to tear my gaze from her. I reach up to catch her hand and fold her fingers down, sliding mine between them, until I’m clasping her hand against my chest. She stares at it, then up at me, a crease between her eyebrows that practically begs me to lean in and kiss it until it disappears.
She can’t know what she just said. She’s proven time and again that she doesn’t know a damn thing about me. But still, if she planned to seduce me, to steal more than just my cock—which is definitely already hers, to judge by the near-painful stiffness in my pants—but my heart too… Then she couldn’t have come up with a better speech if she tried.
But I’m not ready to broach that conversation with her. Not yet.
So I squeeze her hand gently, once more, and release it. “By that logic,” I reply, “even if you did get the divorce, we’d still be seeing each other every single day, for hours and hours.” I arch an eyebrow. “Since you won’t be quitting this job for love or money, and I obviously won’t be leaving my own company…”
Her cheeks flush again, and she grimaces like she didn’t think about that point.
I shrug one shoulder, playing at being carefree. “So what does the ring really matter then? There’s no difference, really, whether you take it off or leave it.”
“Why?” she asks, and at first, I don’t understand. She shakes her head and tilts her head back, gaze fixed on mine. “Why do you want me to be your wife so badly? You don’t know anything about me.”
I move in close again, close enough to make her head tilt all the way back in order to keep those soft eyes of hers fixed on my own. I reach up to tuck a single lock of her dark hair behind her ear, my fingers grazing the soft shell of her earlobe just enough to send a shiver down her spine. “I know some things about you, Mara,” I lean in to whisper, and this time it’s not just her spine that shivers, but her whole body.
She leans toward me, her chest grazing mine, just for an instant, but it’s enough for me to feel her nipples are rock hard. The way they were our wedding night when she rode me, screaming my name…
God my cock is so fucking hard right now I can barely stand it.
“For example, I cannot stop remembering the look on your face when you come,” I murmur, grinning. “Do you know your lips part, and you flush all the way down your chest?” I reach up to brush my fingertip along the underside of her breast, and she gasps, her lips barely inches from mine, and parted now, the same way t
hey do when she comes, yes, just like that. “God, I love watching you come.”
Her throat works tightly as she swallows. “I… I never knew I could come that hard, until…”
“Until our wedding night?” I lean in. Just another inch and I’ll close the gap between us. I can claim that sweet mouth of hers all over again…
“Uh, hello?” A strange woman’s voice makes me step back from Mara smoothly. She startles and runs both hands through her hair before reaching down to tug on the hem of her skirt, as if we’d been doing anything. As if that doesn’t make it even more obvious what we’re trying to hide.
Still, she’s adorable in her obviousness. Her whole face is bright red, and she clears her throat hard. “Um, thank you for the… explanation.” With that, Mara practically bolts from the room, all while I stand watching her go, torn between amusement and annoyance.
Amusement at Mara. Annoyance at this intrusion.
My cock is still rock fucking hard, but I shift my stance to conceal it better, and take a step until I’m behind the chair Mara was sitting in earlier, helping to conceal my desire and the exact nature of the scene this girl just interrupted.
Then I take in the new girl. I don’t recognize her. Blonde hair, done in a tight updo, with a tight pencil skirt and jacket to match. She’s cute, albeit not my type. Far too bubbly-looking, like the kind of girl who pays other people to do her hard work, rather than doing it herself.
I prefer women like Mara. Girls who get the job done themselves, who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
She’s still flushing too, but her blush isn’t nearly as cute as Mara’s. It lights up her whole face a bright, unpleasant red, and she pats her cheeks a couple times as if she’s trying to calm it down. “Um, sorry, for interrupting.” Another nervous gulp, as if she’s thinking again about what she saw.
