Her Alpha Lover: A Draken and Charli Boxed Set (7 page)

6) You will not touch any of the meeting attendees, including me, during meeting time unless I authorize it. I may touch you without inhibition, naturally. If there is unauthorized contact between you and any other attendee, he will be thrown out of the meeting and you will be disciplined.

7) During or after the meeting, upon request and at my discretion you may be awarded an orgasm.

8) As always, nobody attending the meeting will record, share, or otherwise disclose any information about the entertainment portion of the meeting. If containment somehow fails and your reputation and job with GudRelashuns.com are adversely affected, your role as Special Meeting Facilitator for Almatto Tech Sport terminates immediately and I will award you a fair settlement, as determined by our lawyers.

In plainspeak, Charli—our lips are sealed here at ATS and if you try to screw me over by spilling the dirt yourself, you'll be screwed in court. No offense, but I have to cover my ass.

I'll be flying back to the States early in the morning, so please contact my assistant with any questions.

Otherwise...keep your clit perky until I see you,

—DA

TO: Draken Almatto

FROM: Charli Fontina

RE: Meeting Wednesday September 14

Wow. Just...wow.

For some reason I can't fathom right now, it seems I'll be seeing you Wednesday, Mr. Almatto.

—Charli

"May I help you?"

"Um," Charli said to the front desk attendant in the lobby of Seven Tech Tower. She leaned forward and lowered her voice so she wouldn't be overheard by the crowds behind her. "I'm here for the meeting with Mr. Almatto at 4:30. I'm not sure which conference room I'm supposed to, uh, be in today. Or even what floor."

"Your name?" the young man said.

"Charli Fontina."

As he checked his list, Charli tugged nervously at the three-quarter-length sleeves of her dress. Lord, the midnight blue garment felt...slinky. Though she had to admit it fit the curves of her petite body like a glove, ending well above her bare knees and tailored with generous darts for the bust. It had arrived yesterday, sent to her apartment by evening courier, and its short skirt, low neckline, and silky fabric would not let her forget for one moment the man who'd sent it to her.

Draken Almatto. With a brief note:
Here's something for tomorrow. It'll show the outline of your ginormous nipples even if you decide to wear one of your granny bras.

Charli had spent the rest of the night sputtering.
Did he actually call your nipples ginormous? Asshole!

She wasn't going to wear it. She'd vowed not to. But then she had.

And
not
with a granny bra this time. She'd dug through her dresser drawers till she'd found the raciest bra she had.

Foolish of her, she thought now. Because she still had doubts about coming here today. That outrageous last email from Draken had almost caused her to back out. A blush flooded her cheeks just imagining what Draken Almatto's assistant, Matthew, must have thought to receive a copy.

If that memory alone was enough to make her blush, she knew she was toast. Because it was likely nothing to what was in store for her today...

"Ah, yes. You'll be going to the thirty-eighth floor, Ms. Fontina."

"Oh," she said uncertainly. "Is that all the way to the top?"

"Not quite. It's the executive conference room. This is a meeting of his top executives. If you could hold on a moment, he wants me to let him know when you've arrived." He leaned forward behind the counter and entered something on his keyboard.

"Oh, I see." Charli couldn't stop herself from blushing again.

A few minutes later, the man looked up, his expression schooled into blandness. "Ms. Fontina, Mr. Almatto wants me to ask you a few questions. First, are you wearing any panties under that dress?"

Charli's face flamed. She glanced around to see people in business suits waiting just a few feet away.

"No," she whispered, clearing her throat.

"Right. And is—" he broke off, his face going a little pink, and then chuckled and shook his head. "He warned me, but this is pretty wild. I'm supposed to ask you if your clitoris is hard and wet."

Damn that man to hell and back.
It is now, you bastard.

Charli swallowed and said, "Yes," in a strangled voice.

"So you, er, haven't had an orgasm since you saw Mr. Almatto last on the Friday prior to Labor Day?"

No words were currently possible. Charli shook her head.

"Whew. I guess you're here to entertain for somebody's birthday or something?" the attendant said, grinning slyly.

She shook her head again. "I—I can't—I'm not a—it's complicated."

How to tell this man that several days ago, in the midst of an awkward business presentation, she'd been persuaded to put herself on shockingly lurid display for Draken Almatto and his all-male staff? That she'd ended up being fucked by the man across his conference table afterwards? And that this meeting was supposed to be the long-anticipated follow-up?

How to explain that these kinds of appointments were all she'd been offered by the iconoclastic young billionaire with eclectic sexual tastes who'd sworn he'd never have her as a girlfriend, even though he'd been stalking her on the Internet for over a year?

That she wasn't always a slut? That she normally didn't
do
wild monkey sex? That this was a first? That she liked to bake zucchini bread to relax and hadn't had a boyfriend in two years? That Draken Almatto had turned out to be so hot, so lethal, so devastating that she'd thrown her normal life code out the window and now she was turning into a sex junkie?

How to explain that life would be much easier if she
were
just a stripper?

Well, she
could
, but...

Nope. Maybe not.

"Hokay. Well, mum's the word. I'll tell him what you said. Hold on." Charli was appalled to see him bring a phone to his ear. She looked over her shoulder and saw several people watching curiously as they waited in line. Oh, God, could they hear? She knew the curved metal sculptures on the floor and walls were designed to carry sound across the acoustically-enhanced entrance lobby in unpredictable ways. Whoever had furnished this lobby had a sense of humor.

"Draken," the man said. "Ben Vaughn here down in the lobby. Ms. Fontina just verified that she's not wearing panties, that her, er, pussy is wet and that she hasn't had an orgasm since—since you saw him last, was it?" He glanced up at her inquiringly.

She nodded, her breath starting to come in quick pants.

"Yeah. Yeah, she did. She looks cute as hell. Yes, big glasses. Very excited when I asked about her clit. Yeah, they are, as a matter of fact." He was eying, Charli saw, the two bumps of her nipples clearly outlined on the bodice of her dress. "Okay, I'll tell her. No problem." He put the phone down and smiled widely. "Ms. Fontina, you're free to go up. They're waiting for you. The elevators are over toward the Hammond Street entrance. Do you know the way?"

"Yes," she gritted.
I will surely kill that man. First I will let him do whatever he wants with my body. After that, murder.

"Have a great time," he called warmly.

She started to storm off, then hesitated. "Sir, aren't you—I mean, aren't you bothered? Annoyed or I don't know, shocked that he made you ask me those things?"

"By Draken? Shocked by Draken?" The clerk laughed. "After four years, I don't think I'll ever be shocked by anything he does, Ms. Fontina." He smiled. "You do blush a lot, don't you? He said you did."

And
that
was her cue to stomp away. Waiting for the elevator, she fixedly watched the indicator lights, her heart pounding in her ribcage as she envisioned what it was going to be like to see Draken again today. All week she'd been thinking about this moment. The things Draken had done had had her drooling between her legs. The things
she'd
done. Would it be the same? Would he make her...

"You're here for Draken, aren't you?"

Charli's eyes widened. She glanced around at the milling crowd, but bewilderingly it
was
Charli the blond woman in the tailored black suit was addressing. "Uh, yeah. How did you...'

She shrugged. "I've seen your picture on his screen."

"
My
picture," Charli echoed stupidly, then blinked. "On his
what
?"

"At first I wasn't sure, but when you turned around..."

"It's the glasses and the freckles," a man in a gray suit put in. "Same girl. Gotta be. Though you look younger in person."

Charli looked from one to the other. "What screen are you talking about?"

"His phone. Your pic, Draken's had it on there for, like, months. We all thought you were his girlfriend, but he finally admitted he was just stalking you."

Charli's eyes closed. "Do you—do you two work with him?" she asked with dread.

The elevator doors opened and they began filing in.

"Everyone works with him around here," the woman laughed, then added, "You should be flattered he's using you for wallpaper. He's picky, you know."

"Not that picky," the guy said. "He probably nails seven girls a week."

"But does he download them to his mobile?" the women asked, rolling her eyes. "He was engaged once, but that was years ago, before he even owned all this. Way back," she confided, "before he came up with the safety patents that made him megabucks. Now he has a rep for using women who know the score. And you know why." At Charli's blank look, she waved her arm around. "His empire? This building?"

"He—he owns this high rise?" Charli said in a small voice. The man owned a
skyscraper?
And she'd thought he only—
only
—had the six floors that were Almatto Tech Sport.

"Yeah, at twenty-seven, right? It all started after he worked a government deal for his safety mechanisms for backpacks and survival equipment. Now it's required for use in military
and
civilian products. He totally wiped up by the time he hit twenty. You didn't know? Where've you been?"

Charli shook her head and said weakly, "The company I work for has contracts with him, but we focus on the lifestyle of our clients, not their lives before they became rich and famous." She didn't add,
And I never paid much attention to him before last week, when I scoured the Internet to see the kind of woman he went around with.

"Oh, he was born into money, but not quite in this league. Which has got to be why he's never gotten serious and put a ring on another woman's finger. I mean, what chick
wouldn't
marry him for his dough and then take him for all he's worth, since he's guaranteed to go through, like, five divorces in his lifetime? Oops, my floor. See ya!"

After the woman stepped off the elevator, Charli caught people sneaking looks at her dress, which she knew was far different from the power suits everyone wore in this place.
Great. Now even more people know that Charli Fontina's picture is on Draken Almatto's phone.

Which picture???

Crap. She'd had no idea she was even a thing.

Just like last time, the whole deal felt surreal. Draken's obsession with her made no sense. She wasn't in his class. She looked about as provocative as...as apple pie. Well, maybe cherry cheesecake, in this dress. But still. She wasn't a triple S—sparkling, slutty and sultry—like the women Draken was always seen with.

She wasn't a loser or anything. She crocheted an awesome throw rug, she was on the verge of getting a nice promotion at work, and dozens of people read her webcomics. Her personality could even be called scintillating when she wasn't nervous about speaking in front of a certain hot male executive. But he didn't seem to care about any of that. He was only interested in her body and displaying it for his staff. He'd probably have her show her breasts again. So everyone could see how long and taut her nipples were.

Oh fuck.

Plus he'd forbidden her to wear panties. He might ask her to flash everyone her crotch...

Oh, God. It always made her so horribly wet, anticipating the things Draken Almatto might make her do in this meeting. She kept her gaze down. The people in this elevator had no clue her pussy was leaking and swelling under her short skirt as she thought of exposing her most private parts to a bunch of businessmen. If they knew...

Which thought made her pussy
more
engorged! Aargh!

It was his fault. Those questions he'd had the attendant ask her! There was no reason to do it except to get her juiced-up. She didn't
need
further juicing, dammit. Hopefully the panty-and-skirt thing was so he could just reach under there and quickly give her the orgasm she needed.

Needed so. Badly.

Already.

Because twelve days. Without an orgasm.

While thinking of goddamn Draken Almatto almost constantly.

Because he'd told her she was not to have one anywhere but at Almatto Tech Sport.

Which like a fool, she went along with. Because she wanted him.

The elevator had emptied out by the time it dinged on her floor and the doors opened with a
snick
. She stepped out into a decadent luxury suite, with black marble floors and bronze sculptures. The receptionist looked up, but Charli didn't want to talk to her. She slipped by with a little wave, and the woman just smiled and nodded.

Finally she found what she was looking for. Severely rattled by now, Charli stared at the double doors marked
Conference
in gold lettering. Her heart thumped madly as she grasped a handle (made of real ebony, for sure) and opened it.

She didn't see Draken at first, for her focus was on the room itself. It was large and crowded.

Very crowded.

There had to be forty people milling around.

Including at least a dozen women. Not to mention a handful of older men who had MARRIED practically emblazoned on their paunches.