Becoming His Slave (31 page)

“
M’sieur Leos? Il est toujours dans la chirurgie. il est toujours sur la table d’opération
.”
The nurse informed him that Trenton was still in surgery.

“
Et la femme qui est entrée avec lui? Savez-vous où ils l'ont mise? Et la femme qui était avec lui ? Vous savez où elle est.”
 
Diesel asked where in the emergency room they had put the woman brought in with him, but the nurse shrugged shaking her head. She didn’t seem to know who he was referring to.

He went on to describe a petit woman with long wavy brown hair and pale blue eyes, most likely scared to death and crying a lot. The nurse stood from her seat and pointed over the partition of her station towards the far corner of the waiting room. Diesel followed her finger and spotted on the far side of the room a crumbled Katianna on the floor tucked almost completely behind a large planter box with one of those silk shrubberies, her head buried in her arms over her knees, completely cascaded by her tangled hair.

“Merci.
” He thanked the nurse then went over to fetch Kat.

Katianna woke with a start to find Diesel lifting her from the floor. Her arms and legs immediately wrapping around him and fresh tears and sobs poured from her. “He’s dead isn’t he? I don’t know what anyone is saying and they won’t let me go see him.” She sobbed into his neck.

Diesel held her tight and patted her back trying to calm her down, but wasn’t hopeful to have much success with it, “He’s not dead. He’s still in surgery that’s why you can’t go see him right now.”

Katianna’s face was buried in his neck making her sobs all the more indiscernible, “Are you sure? How do you know he’s not dead?”

“Because I just spoke with the nurses and I’ve known him to take more bullets then this and he made it through then.”

Her head came up and she stared at him trying to decide if he was telling the truth or not. She sniffled “Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure.” His hug tightened on her. “Come on little mouse, let’s go down to the cafeteria, I could use a coffee.” He muttered not bothering to put her down as he carried her still wrapped around his waist.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Once Amelia had returned to the summit meeting the whole building was in a high state of alert and the board members were primed to act out on it, but Amelia had refused to allow the vote to take place because of it. Rather she did one thing and one thing only.

Too many lives where going to be destroyed with the closure of these plants. She wanted them to think it over—demanding the board search for alternatives to find a solution to the present problem. That anything less was unacceptable. Fear was an everyday account for people in the Middle East, but their company brought something good to the area, it brought jobs and with that people could find strength to get through the rest.

She wanted them to really look hard for some alternative over the course of the night and come back in the morning with a plan and they had left it at that.

Rashawn Matisse was the newest member on the board, as well as the youngest, but Amelia had liked him from the start. Unlike the board’s older members he was a free thinker, almost irrational when compared to the other men, but he got answers, found solutions and he worked hard to get them. He wasn’t afraid to dig in the mud with his own hands to get them either.

His track record to take derelict companies, reorganize their management and operations and turn them around, pulling them out of the red in the short span of a two year plan had gotten him on the board of directors in his fifth year with the European Firm.

Rashawn agreed with Amelia, he was dead set against closing the plants. Doing so could set off a chain reaction that would eventually come back around and bite them in the ass. It would tell the world that when the going gets tough Quinneth Global Managements runs for cover. Not the kind of message a company as large as theirs wants to tell its clients. So he’d been on the phone with key members of Istanbul and Carac nearly all week, often at times stepping out of the summit meeting to reconvene with people he hoped could bring around enough security that would protect Ümran Global’s employees and its production so they could stay in operations at their present locations.

And it was no injury to his cause when a march was held in Istanbul two days ago that the city was not doing enough to protect job security and helped protect companies such as Nordstrom and Ümran Global. So that night he sat up talking with Mehmet Küçük, Board of Director for the Istanbul Chamber of Industry, who was offering to work with them to aid in security and step up local protection in order to keep Ümran Global from pulling out.

That Saturday morning the board reconvened at 9:00am sharp.

Rashawn strode in, he was exhausted having only stolen two hours of sleep since he got off the phone at 6:30 that morning, but he was jacked up knowing he was bringing Amelia exactly what she wanted for her company and he hoped it would get her attention enough that perhaps he could get a shot at her.

He’d barely had time to dress, and came strolling in, slacks unbelted, his suit coat draped over his arm and his shirt was unbuttoned more than half way down his chest. His tie hung freely over his chest.

Amelia was already at the head of the table and she crooked a brow in his direction when he came in. He could only smile as if he’d just finished making wild sex with her, only she didn’t know it yet and he planned on doing it again. He tossed his suit coat over the back of his chair, set the file folders down then casually took the time to finish off the buttons on his shirt, but when he caught Amelia staring his way, he’d almost had the notion to leave them open for her.

Stanley Hostimshires, who sat across from him and was always there to point out how young and inexperienced Rashawn was, cleared his throat, “Did your mother forget to teach you how to dress?”

“Not at all, but I ran into your wife in the elevator on the way up and she seemed eager to show me how to undress.” Rashawn’s gaze rolled slowly onto the man. It was no secret Stanley had left his first wife to run off with a young tart that was young even for Rashawn and who had such an appetite for sex Stanley was finding himself struggling to keep up.

“That’ll be quiet enough gentleman.” Amelia was drawing the line before any more retorts could be shared. “Shall we get started?” She pulled the leather bound folder in front of her, her eyes darting towards Rashawn then back to her folder, “Mr. Matisse, if you would please? Finish getting dressed—its distracting.”

Rashawn watched. She didn’t look up, keeping her eyes carefully down at the papers before her, but he caught a glimpse of that pink tongue slipping out to lick at her lips and that was all he needed to see.

Amelia was at least ten years his older, but he didn’t give a shit about any of that. The woman was pure power and sex. It amazed him on every detail of her body, from her refined faced to the deep merlot color of her hair and the perfect hourglass shape of her body. Damn she made his mouth water.

He loved how she saddled into her seat almost sideways and coiled her legs around each other tucking those delicate ankles under her. She rested back on a shoulder one arm propped up and she tapped at her teeth when you were boring her with your reports or caressed her lips when she was interested. He memorized every nuance of her body language and at forty something? She had the body of a Hollywood movie star. There were plenty of times when all he could think about was what color the patch of hair between her legs was and hoped it matched the wine color of her head. Because he loved the image he made up in his fantasies and how sexy it was going to look when he got the chance to sink his cock deep inside her
wine
.

He could feel his cock getting hard just now thinking about it. It jerked with his growing arousal stirring him from his thoughts and he realized this was not the time or place to develop a raging hard-on that would show through his pants… that wasn’t good. Any other time, like taking her out to dinner—he would have just asked her to dance whether there was music playing or not and press up against her so there was no doubt in her mind how bad he wanted her. But not in the summit meeting. Now was definitely not the time. He closed the last few buttons on his shirt grabbed his suit coat and pulled it on; grateful he had picked out the long double breasted, grey jacket instead of the dark navy he had intended to wear, which would not have been long enough to hide his erection.

“You look rather presumptuous this morning Mr. Matisse, perhaps we should start with you. What did you bring me?” Amelia voiced toward him, her tone coiling around him as if she had already spied his erection and was harboring some deep arousal of her own.

Aside from a raging rock hard cock for you my lovely?
 Rashawn’s thoughts started off, “I spent the better half of the night on the phone with Mehmet and won over some extended protection with the city—”

Amelia’s demur almost faltered when she bolted up in her seat, her eyes filled with victorious surprise, but only just. But he could see it as he continued to tell her about his conversation with Istanbul and with Carac and the additional security measures the two cities were willing to take to protect them. Including some breaks on operation fees, for one year. Her gaze was like fire, she had wanted to keep the plants going, but hope had been draining throughout the week, now he had found the firm ground she needed. It came from him and her eyes rewarded him with a lusty gaze.
Damn he wanted to fuck her
.

The summit went on for another three hours poring over the details of what needed to be done right away and what was to follow to keep it secure. By late afternoon the entire board voted unanimously to keep both plants open and in operation.

Rashawn was the one who got to accompany Amelia outside when they were swarmed by the press to announce their final decision and she made sure the reporters got his name as being the one to spear head the solution.

“Let me take you out for dinner, let’s celebrate Amelia.” He asked once they managed to get past the cameras and microphones. He was fighting to contain himself. When he gave her the solution she needed to keep the plants open, she snared them and took over. Working the meeting like a symphony director and all he could do was get harder for her, watching her—how she controlled every detail around her. She was quantum physics expressed in water colors.

And when they came out to talk to the reporters, when her arm slipped around his waist, he thought for sure he was going to cum in his pants just from the heat of her palm against his back. He could feel it through his shirt and
oh
how he wanted to take her hand and put it someplace else.

“Come on, what do you say?” He dared to take her shoulders in his hands in a tender clasp, “You deserve to go out.” He took a deep inhale of her scent and let it swirl in him—she was pure woman and he could make out the faint lingering of her perfume she would have put on this morning—
Imperial’s Majesty.
Most expensive perfume in the world and still not enough for an Heiress like Amelia. How’d he know? Because he was the one who bought it for her. As a Christmas gift at last year’s company party here in Paris. He paid Bartholomew a thousand bucks to trade name tags with him, just to be the one with Amelia’s name for the gift exchange.

Not long after that, while in London for a week of business meetings, he took to the shops along the Dover Street market, with little catching his eyes as anything other than having already been tried, worn or tasted by someone else. He wandered off, stopped for some late tea on Haymarket and that’s when he discovered the odd boutique of furniture and perfume. Such an odd combination then again he was in London and the English? Well the English were just that—
English
. But the fairly sizable shop caught his eye and he decided it was worth a shot to see if it had any hidden treasure worthy of being gift wrapped for Amelia Quinneth.

One whiff of the
Clive Christ
ian creation and he knew it was the one. He didn’t even bat a lash when the cashier asked for ℒ130,000,
that’s $215,000.00 US.

There was nothing like messaging a sexy scent of floras and musk into a woman’s skin and how that scent would come to life when her body heated up underneath you as you made love to her.

His body nearly tensed with excitement when her hand slid up his chest, delicate fingers tended to his tie adjusting it then smoothed her palm over it accepting it was to her perfection, “And as do you Rashawn.” She hummed.

Rashawn not Mr. Matisse—he liked that, but then he liked how she said M’sieur Matisse too, it almost sounded like
yes Master
. There wasn’t anything in the world Rashawn would cherish more than the opportunity to
master
Amelia Quinneth.

“It sounds wonderful, but I must take a rain check on it. There’s still a lot that needs to be done to make sure all your hard work doesn’t get buried before it can be put into motion. Work that I can better manage from my firm in New York. On top of that my bodyguard is in the hospital.”

“How is Trenton Leos?”

Amelia’s eyes flickered a bit and she gave him a questioning expression, “Did you know Trenton well?”

“Before this week? Not really—I’ve heard his name mentioned a few times before.” He gave a watered down version of just how well he did know Trenton. Yes, he knew Trenton, but he had to wonder if Amelia truly knew him, knew him as anything other than the man who owned and ran TL Securities. Knew the man as Dominus and of the world of B&D he called his domain and catered to others.

Just the fantasy that such a thing could happen had Rashawn licking his lips, right there in front of Amelia. And he was certain he felt her body heating up just from watching him do it.

“But keep your bags packed—I may be calling you to join me in New York. I want to make sure everything falls into place, but this is still your baby as far as I’m concerned and I expect you to see it through.”