Rendezvous with the Billionaire: A Billionaire Workplace Romance (6 page)

The interview went well. Not immediately offer me the job and a million dollars a year well, but I was pretty sure they were going to call me back for a second one. So that was good. Once I was done for the day, away from work - where I did see Evan though he pretended that I didn't exist - and snuggled up in bed at home, I allowed myself to hope. I
would
get the job, the police would tell me that everything was all right, and maybe...

No.

Oh, fine, I would think it, but would never admit the thought on pain of death. But maybe Evan would talk to me again like he did at the coffee shop. Not in the weird, impersonal way he did at work, not - okay, only occasionally - in the dominatingly sexy way he did when he tried to seduce me, but just like a person.

Frankly, that was sexier than anything else I could think of.

But I wouldn't ever admit to that. Not to him, and I shouldn't even do it to myself, that way lay dragons. So for one last moment I let myself think about Evan Daringer being human, and then I fell asleep.

The dream started like they all had for the past few weeks. I was sitting alone in that interrogation room at the police station. But my lawyer, Carmen, wasn't there with me. Neither were detectives Santiago or O'Hara. The fluorescent lights glared over the metal table, reflecting against it and hitting me right in the eyes. I tried to lift up a hand to block the light out, but with a clink, my wrists were stopped by the handcuffs that were connected to the table. The metal bit into my wrists, and even though I knew that I hadn't used enough pressure, blood pooled, spilling out from under the metal and dripping down onto the table.

It didn't hurt, not exactly, but the blood didn't stop, just spilling and spilling, pooling on the table and then dripping off the side. The lights flickered, something electric sizzling in the air. The hair at the back of my neck stood on edge and when I touched a finger to the bare metal it sparked with static electricity.

"Hello!" I yelled. "Please, help me!" The lights flickered off completely and quickly flashed back on, but for a moment it no longer looked like I was in an interrogation room. Instead I sat handcuffed to the wall of a damp, dank cell, bars replaced one wall, a tiny space. If I stretched out my leg I would brush against the iron.

The lights flickered back up and I was once again in the interrogation room, handcuffed to the table, but no longer bleeding. In fact, all of my blood was gone. Creepy. I pulled more gently on the handcuffs this time, trying to free myself without injury. But for each inch I pulled, I could feel the metal tighten around my wrists. Each movement triggering a little "click" of the cuffs. It started off as a little tight, but by the time I gave up I could feel my fingers turning cold from the lack of circulation.

I stopped struggling and sat still for a moment. There was a noise in the distance. Something sort of dragging and clinking. Just hearing it made me break out in goose bumps. I didn't want to see whatever was making it. There wasn't any question about that.

But the noise didn't get any closer, or any farther. It just stayed distantly audible and bad enough that I knew I was sweating out of fear, not because of the temperature. A shadow moved under the doorway, visible in the moments between more flickers of the light.

I heard the doorknob rattle and held my breath. It was probably just one of the detectives coming to question me further. I couldn't remember how long I'd been sitting in the handcuffs, but my butt was numb and my fingers were cold and I knew they had to come talk to me sometime. The rattling stopped and the shadow disappeared. I didn't know whether to be relieved or more worried.

"Is anybody out there?" I called. I don't know what made me do it, but it was getting freakier to be alone than to risk whoever might be in the hallway. Unless they were making the dragging and clinking noises. Whoever that was could stay far away.

Slowly I tried to get out of the handcuffs. This time, as I pulled, it felt like I was resisting against putty. But bit by bit I was able to pull my hands through. The empty handcuffs fell down to the table and dissolved into a silvery, metallic mess.

Wary of the flickering lights and strange noises, I tried to stand up silently, but the metal chair grated against the floor and let out a resounding whine throughout the interrogation room. I winced.

But I couldn't stay in there all night. Or day, or whatever time it was. After slowly making my way across the room, I set my hand on the door. It made me think of those fire safety talks we all had in elementary school. If the door is warm, don't open it. But this door felt cool, no risk of flames.

With an easy flick of my wrist, it opened outward. But I didn't see the police station hallway on the other side. No, this was the hallway where it all began. The Hyperion Hotel, floor 9. I didn't want to walk down that hallway, but it was almost like there was something forcing me out the door and towards room 983. My feet dragged, but still I stepped, getting closer and closer.

Or, I assumed I was getting closer. Though there were plenty of doors lining the wall, there were no room numbers. And then, practically within the space of a blink, I was there. The door swung open before I could knock or try the handle. And suddenly I wasn't alone.

Evan Daringer waited for me.

He wasn't wearing what he had that night. No, this time he wore an old fashioned tuxedo, completed with white gloves covering his hands. I almost expected a top hat, but his hair was free, just long enough for me to run my fingers through. That compulsion pushed me forward, straight into his arms.

Evan swooped me up, his arms clutching me close and his lips descending on mine. This was all wrong, I knew I shouldn't kiss him back, knew that each stroke of our tongues was some sort of betrayal of myself. But it felt so good, the heat languishing through me, the strong feel of his hands traveling down and cupping my ass.

I moaned against him, pressing myself closer, my hands grabbing at him, trying to remove his jacket, to feel him, to do something. But as soon as I moved, Evan stepped back.

"I told you it was just for one night," he said. His eyes darted around the room and I spun to follow them. But there was nothing to see. Just the fine furnishings of the suite.

"I'm not the one who started the kiss."

His finger trailed down the side of my cheek until he stopped under my chin, just letting my head rest on top of it. "You started all of this."

His finger continued down, parting my shirt as if he held a knife. With a gentle caress he pushed both halves of the flimsy fabric off my shoulders, leaving me bare in the sudden chill. His hands roamed down my arms, sliding off and around to clutch my waist. But he didn't stop there. His busy hands worked up, the left one cupping my breast, his thumb brushing against the sensitive nipple.

I moaned. I didn't know what else to do, what else to think. Except for one thing. "Why are you wearing gloves?" I covered his hand with mine, feeling a strange lump on one of his fingers.

He grinned and leaned forward, kissing me quickly but not explaining. I got caught up for a moment, that nipple hardening against the soft brush of his gloved thumb. But as soon as I felt myself pressing forward I pulled back. I couldn't do this. There was something important.

For a moment I flashed back to that night, when we really were together. I vaguely knew I was dreaming, that all of this wasn't exactly real, but it reminded me of something that had fallen by the wayside in the days since the incident.

"Where did you go that night?" I asked him, "Why did you leave the room?"

The dream seemed to stall for a moment, caught on my question. Evan stood in front of me, but even when I moved my hand an inch from his eyes, he didn't move. And then with a stuttering hiccup, everything started again.

"You started all of this," he repeated. He kissed me once more. I gave up trying to hold on to sanity, trying to remember why I should ask him questions. If this was a dream then I had nothing to lose, no consequences of indulging in my hunger for him.

My hand searched lower, across the planes of his chest and below his waist. I flicked open the button on his pants and let my hand trail down and cup his ass. His hips bucked against me at that slight contact and I could feel the firm outline of his cock against my stomach.

I opened my mouth against his, wanting a better, richer taste of him. But after a moment I realized something was wrong. Evan no longer kissed me back, he didn't move against me or try to touch my breasts. I nudged at him, just trying to get a response, but nothing happened.

I pulled back, opening my eyes.

I screamed. It was no longer Evan that I'd been kissing, that I'd been clutching. Instead, I was standing in the cold, dead arms of Nicholas Bitterman. I batted at him, pushing his still form away and backed away as quickly as I could

There was something behind me, a fold in the rug, a chair, I didn't know what, but I tripped over it and could feel my head thunk loudly against the floor.

I woke up with a gasp.

That was...damn it. I sat up in the dark room and looked over at Maricela. She slept peacefully, uninterrupted by whatever sounds I'd been making from that creepy ass dream. I threw myself back down, my head landing on my pillow with a puff of air.

It took a minute for it to come back to me, but when it did, I covered my eyes with my hand and stifled a groan. How had I forgotten about Evan leaving the room that night? Why had he done it?

And did I think it had anything to do with Nicholas Bitterman's murder?

I had no idea.

The next day at work I knew that I had to talk to Evan, had to figure out if he was hiding something that would get me in trouble with the cops. Well, more trouble. It occurred to me as I looked for an excuse to be alone with him that I might just be crazy. I was concerned that Evan had something to do with a murder, maybe even had committed a murder, and I not only wanted to be alone with him, I wanted to tell him that I suspected.

Yeah, that didn't exactly sound smart when I thought about it.

But as far as I knew, Evan was just as connected to Nicholas Bitterman as I was. That was to say, not at all. We'd both just been in the same building with him. And I was the unlucky one who showed up on his camera. So I was probably safe. And even if he was a murderer, I doubted that Evan would kill me at the office, it seemed like it would be more difficult to hide my body there.

A disturbing, if practical, thought.

A part of me wanted to just walk into his office, close the door, and ask him whether or not he killed Nicholas Bitterman. The prudent part of me knew that was a colossally stupid impulse and wouldn't let me act on it. Even if I just wanted to talk, I couldn't simply walk into Evan's office. If no one was allowed to know about our night together, I couldn't start acting weird at work. And it would definitely be weird for me to just drop in for a little chat. No one did little chats.

So the office was out. My best bet was to find him in a conference room. They were used for all sorts of reasons, not just meetings. It wasn't uncommon for people to book one when they just wanted to work in private for a few hours. And knowing that Evan had been out of town for a few weeks, it made perfect sense that he'd hide in one to get some work done.

Working on my hunch, I took a little walk to the main conference room hub. Six conference rooms, all with nice views of the city, sat in one hallway. And all six of the conference room doors stood open. Still, I didn't let that discourage me.

I ducked my head into each of the rooms, taking a quick look before moving on. In the fifth I hit pay dirt. Evan had a laptop out and was typing away at the computer, not paying any attention to me. I stepped back into the hallway before he could see me and took a deep breath. It was just a talk. I could do this.

Not giving myself another chance to retreat, I stepped into the conference room and closed the door behind me. Evan glanced up after a second, his hand reflexively straightening the reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. I almost smiled, they looked both completely out of place and absolutely right on him.

He looked between me and the door for a moment before speaking. "Did you need the room?"

And we were back to that cold, distant Evan I'd grown to love. "Actually, I wanted to talk." I stayed next to the door, leaning against it. I really didn't think he was a murderer, but I still wanted to be closest to the exit. Just in case.

I was probably overreacting.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment," he said, "This afternoon might work better. Is this about the Chambers account?" He glanced up at me for a moment and then back down at his screen.

I licked my lips, mouth suddenly dry. He'd talked to me outside of work, acknowledged that night, but this was going directly against his wishes. "Actually, it's not about work at all."

This time when he looked back up, he closed the computer completely, leaning back and looking at me. "It's not?"

I blew out a breath, ruffling my bangs a bit. I wanted to fidget and had no idea where to put my hands, but I kept them down by my sides in loose fists, fighting the urge to move them any more than I had. "No."

He made a dismissive little gesture with his hand that I chose to interpret as an invitation to speak.

"It's just..." Now that I was talking I had no idea how to say it. "Something occurred to me. About that night. I mean, you know."

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, but he didn't quite look at me. "Yes, I know which night you're speaking of."

"In light of what happened after, the police..." I closed my mouth, pursing my lips for a moment. "I woke up, really early. And you weren't in the room. Not in the hallway either."

Evan stood up in a fluid motion and stalked towards me, only stopping when he was clearly within my personal space. He put on hand on the door next to my face, leaving the other side open. I didn't move. "Are you asking me if I had anything to do with Nick Bitterman's death?"

"No," I swallowed, my skin chilled. "I'm asking you why you took off in the middle of the night and then why you came back." I made the mistake of tilting my head up, of meeting his eyes. Even in the short time since I'd last seen him, I'd forgotten how green they were. Like emeralds, or jade, something hard and cold, but worth a lot.

The corner of his mouth tugged up and my mouth went dry once more, this time it wasn't out of apprehension. "I had to take a phone call." His other hand seemed to come out of nowhere and gently touched my shoulder. I didn't jump, but it was a close thing. "I didn't want to wake you."

That made a lot of sense. "So you didn't have anything to do with that guy? Didn't know him?"

His eyes shuttered, somehow turning even colder. But the expression on the rest of his face didn't change. I would have never noticed it if I wasn't looking closely. "I'm sorry you got caught up in this. It was just supposed to be a bit of fun."

His hand hadn't stopped caressing my shoulder, if anything, he was growing more insistent. But I tried to ignore it, at least for the moment. "Just tell me you had nothing to do with his death, please." It shouldn't have mattered so much. I didn't know why, but I really, really didn't want Evan to turn out to be a murderer. I mean, I didn't want anyone I knew to be a murderer, but this seemed more. More what, I didn't know.

And now he did smile, dimples forming. "I didn't kill him, I promise."

I believed him, maybe because I wanted to, maybe because it was true. "Good." I smiled back.

We both stood there for a long moment, smiling at each other. But the mood shifted and his eyes dropped down. I licked my lips and swallowed at the sudden heat in the room. One look and I knew he was going to kiss me, and I knew I wasn't going to try to stop him.

He captured my mouth with an unexpected swiftness, the hand on my shoulder sliding around to cup the back of my neck. My hands were on his chest, my fingers bunched in the shirt and feeling the hardness of his abs underneath. I knew what they felt like naked, and yet there was something even sexier about this. Something even more forbidden than it had been before.

I opened my mouth, licking at his tongue, sucking him in. He held me closer, keeping me in place while I tried to move my trapped hands to his sides, to wrap around his back and get him even nearer. We were wearing far too many clothes.

His knee snuck between my legs, nudging them apart. I gave no resistance, riding him as we kissed. I was already wet, ready and willing to take him again. He gave no quarter, possessing me with every stroke of his tongue, trying to dominate me with every caress. And I knew there was only one way to win against such a campaign.

I met his every challenge and doubled it back on him. And within minutes my hand was on his cock, stroking it through the fabric of his trousers.

A knock at the door had us breaking apart. He jumped back, clearing nearly half the room. One look at him told me all I needed to know about how this looked, anyone who saw us would know immediately what we were doing. I looked around the room for any escape, but this conference room had only one door. And the window was on the 37
th
floor, not an option.

Okay, what else?

I looked around with new eyes and saw a chance, "Give me that folder, and some of those papers." Evan raised an eyebrow but did as I asked. I looked at him with a critical eye. Thank god I wasn't wearing lipstick. "Now smooth your hair down." I kept my voice quiet, but still he followed my orders. There was something intoxicating about that, but I didn't let myself dwell. The person on the other side of the door knocked again. I made some sort of gesture for Evan to respond.

"One moment!" He called, sounding busy. Perfect.

I straightened my clothes as best I could and took the folder. Showtime. I started talking as I moved towards the door. "Thanks for taking the time to discuss the Chambers account," I was careful to keep my head down and look at the papers in the folder as I opened the door and stepped out. "I'll have the report to you by next Wednesday." I stepped down the hallway without even glancing at the man who wanted in. But when I was far enough away I closed the folder and let out a sigh of relief. Hopefully it was enough.