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Holly
My head is scrambled one hundred percent. The man I thought I hated has surprised me again—this time in a good way.
When I stepped into the room, I almost melted because he is something else. Dashing good looks outlined in darkness. The air that surrounds him is intense and toxic and just seeing those dark eyes staring at me as if he can’t wait to rip the clothes off my back and make me do insane things to him, had me squirming inside because I absolutely hate the attraction I have toward Dexter fucking Prince.
I shouldn’t be interested in a maniac, but I am. I shouldn’t desire him as much as I do, but my body had other ideas. I shouldn’t inwardly pant at the sight of the power that flashes from his eyes and imagine that mouth bringing me so much pleasure it would ruin me forever—it does. I should guard against this man because he could ruin me in a far more destructive way than just locking me in a cold prison with no food.
Now my situation has changed because I have something I always desired. Him. A one on one with the great man himself and although the circumstances are a little fucked up, now’s my chance to learn from the master. This is pure gold and I need to play this to my advantage because, despite my hatred for the man, my admiration beats it down every time. He’s my idol, the man I had a picture of on my dorm wall to remind me to strive to be excellent. He doesn’t need to know that though and so I keep my girlish infatuation in check and stare at him with a guarded look.
“So, tell me how you started, Mr. Prince.”
He actually laughs. “Call me Dexter and don’t think I haven’t noticed you have turned the tables on me, Holly. Maybe I should re-think your position in my company.”
“I don’t have one. You publicly fired me, humiliated me and then kidnapped and starved me. You’re not really selling this job to be honest and we haven’t even discussed my salary.”
“Maybe we can negotiate, that could be fun.”
My mouth dries as he directs that wicked look my way and an image of me sweeping the plates aside and demanding he take me right now is quickly pushed away. The sexual tension between us is off the scale and suddenly the game changes in a nano-second as he undresses me with those dark, deadly eyes.
It’s difficult to tear my own away from his and every reason why I should is screaming inside my head. ‘He’s playing you, he’s not interested, he wants information, you’re nothing to him. Don’t do it, Holly.’
Then there’s that weak bitch who wins every time, shouting, ‘You want this, get your man, this is a once in a lifetime chance, don’t sweat it, just run with it and fuck the bastard.’
“Holly.”
His deep voice brings my attention back to him and the knowing smirk on his face tells me he can read minds as well and feeling a little flustered I say slightly breathlessly, “I don’t suppose you have any more water.”
He pushes his own jug toward me and I fall on it like the Ancient Mariner.
“So, you don’t drink, that’s admirable.”
“Not really. I don’t drink champagne and definitely no alcohol on an empty stomach. I prefer red wine actually, full bodied and deep.”
I almost groan at that bitch who is openly flirting with him because she has apparently woken up and taken charge of my senses and the interest in his eyes is causing strange things to happen to me inside.
My heart almost gives out on me as he stands and lifts a bottle of wine from the table and heads my way. He doesn’t speak, just stares, and that is the most unnerving thing of all. I watch as he splashes some of the liquid into a wine glass and without even tasting it, I know it will be the finest wine I have ever tasted because this man expects the best and demands it as standard.
Setting the bottle down next to me, he says huskily, “This is yours. Now you’ve eaten, you may as well indulge your passion a little, that’s the fun part.”
He heads back to his seat while I squirm on mine because this man should be called Sexter Prince because every word, every gesture, is like a sexual act and I’m fast realizing I’m way out of my depth here and struggling to remain afloat.
Grabbing the glass, I savor the feeling of the liquid coating me inside and caressing my body in decadence. Even the wine is stripping my resistance and as the man himself watches me from across the table, I have an overwhelming urge to give him whatever he wants, and I mean, anything.
“So, Holly, tell me your ambitions. I’m guessing they are still intact despite this latest setback.”
Clearing my throat, I pull my mind from the gutter and switch to my professional one.
“I have big ambitions, Mr. Pr…”
“Dexter, I will only tell you that one more time.”
He appears angry and I nod “Dexter, yes, um, well…” Just saying his name feels like a violation and I take another sip of wine and pray for a fast shot of courage to get me through this meal.
“Well, until I hit a speed bump in my road to success, my plan was to work my ass off, learn the business and then one day take what I learned and start my own publication.”
As I say the words, I realize how juvenile they sound because I am talking to the man who runs the whole media circus in the country. To his credit, he doesn’t laugh and just humors me with a nod. “Impressive ambition, I wish you well.”
“Any tips?” I feel bold enough to ask and he shrugs. “I always find honesty is the best policy.”
