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Her phone buzzed just as she pulled onto the English Manor’s long drive.
“Nita speaking,” she said, tapping the answer button on her Cavendish phone.
“Where are you?” Hartley demanded.
Hartley was the leader of the five sorority sisters and had Nita’s grudging respect as a fellow bitch in heels.
“Just pulling into the manor,” she replied, steering her shit box car through the trees.
When the paved road transitioned to gravel, she held her breath as the manor appeared.
Built to mirror a smaller version of an 18thcountry English manor, the grandeur of the place was breathtaking. Shuttered windows flanked the wide marble steps of the entrance, running the length of two wings. Ballrooms were on the main floor, along with a library and other themed rooms for smaller “engagements,” the official Cavendish term for sex parties.
To the right of the manor was a smaller building that served as stables. Back in the days of the previous owners, there were actually horses there, but the company had sold them long before the business changed hands. Not that there wouldn’t be horses again. The women running it hoped to get Cavendish back to those days.
“Good. I just got here, too,” Hartley replied in a clipped voice. “I need you to print two copies of the new head of security contract as soon as you get to your office.”
“You got it,” she replied, but Hartley had already hung up.
Instead of taking a right to the circular front drive, she headed left on the narrow staff road.
She parked behind the manor, several feet away from Hartley’s Audi, the only other car in the parking area. After turning off her car, she grabbed her purse and got out. She was five steps away when she pivoted and went back to grab her sex journal. The last thing she needed was Hartley snooping and seeing it.
She retraced her steps to the back of the manor, swiping into the back entrance, then taking the back stairs up to the attic offices. Her heels clicked on the spiral stairs. It was small, but at least it was a bit of a leg workout.
“Nita,” Hartley whispered in a clipped voice as she exited the stairwell. “Our new security guy got here early, so I need you to move it.”
“Early?” she asked, “But I only saw your car—”
“I don’t know where he parked. Just get on those contracts,” she said in a hiss, then smoothed her hands over her tailored suit and took a deep breath. “We need him for Mags’s engagement, Nita. And I don’t enjoyneedingthings.”
She noticed for the first time in a while that Hartley was scared.
“Don’t worry, I’m on it,” she said to Hartley’s departing back.
She unlocked her office door, pulling her laptop out of her oversized purse on the way to her desk. She set it down and entered her password, navigating to the folder where she stored agreements.
She opened the document and gave it a once over, making sure all the fields were correct when she compared it to Claire’s email. Claire was her direct boss, but was out of the country on assignment.
“Ryder Crawley… team of five, unless otherwise required…” she murmured out loud.
A minute later she hit print and stood at the printer.
As the machine printed copies of the contract, her mind wandered back to yesterday. It had been doing that a lot. She’d even dreamed about it, which was a first for her.
She was no stranger to outdoor sex, but that had been her first time doing it on a parked motorcycle. It even added to the thrill that they did it on an Indian motorcycle, a classic set of wheels that she’d only heard about. He must have inherited it, since those things didn’t come cheap.
“Although I came cheap,” she murmured to herself, smiling.
God, he’d been good. He hadn’t even wanted to fuck, just go down on her while she leaned back and let him. Thank God she was small and flexible.
“Are you done yet?” Hartley hissed, rattling her fingernails on the doorframe.
“Jesus,” she half shouted, pressing a hand to her chest. “You startled me.”
Hartley stared at her for a moment, then shook her head and walked away. The woman didn’t have a grasp on her the way she did the other sorority girls, and she knew it made Hartley wary.
Good, she thought, stapling the two batches of paper together. She needs to know everybody isn’t in awe of her.
