Road to Destiny (Scorpio Stinger MC Book 5) (26 page)

His eyes bored into mine, his jaw locked. A shiver ran up my spine. “And I expect you to be there within twenty-four hours. This is not negotiable.”

I raised a brow and scrutinized his face. Was he serious? His reputation as a ruthless businessman was known far and wide. I’d known he was a tough player before I agreed to take the position. There was no way that he could maintain his position at the helm of a global company thirty-three, without being smart and tough—brutal even. But to be on twenty-four-hour standby for whenever he summoned me?

Beyond fucking ridiculous.

The less I saw and heard from him, the better.

“And in return, I’ll look after you well. Your flight and hotel room are to your liking, I hope?” he said with a sneer.

My cheeks burned as I realized I hadn’t thanked him for the extravagance already bestowed on me: first class flight, exceptionally luxurious hotel room with a view to die for, and those gifts on my pillow...

“Er, thanks so much for... ” I began. Truthfully, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “The pen was a bit much,” I blurted, without thinking.

His eyes widened for an instant and a vein ticked in his jaw. I guessed his other employees didn’t question his behavior much.

“I appreciate your honesty,” he said coldly.

Had I managed to upset my new boss already? I wasn’t doing too well and the eight-month contract had only just begun today. I didn’t want to give my boss the impression that I was ungrateful, but then again, I was certainly not going to be a pushover.

He had the wrong girl if that was what he wanted.

I’d already made up my mind that I didn’t like Maxwell Grant. Even though I had only just met him, arrogant and condescending were the first two words that came to mind to describe my boss.

M
y worst nightmare became reality. Halfway through dessert, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Ma cherie, there you are.” Alain was standing beside my chair, his hand possessively on my shoulder, and he looked to be challenging Maxwell.
Oh, no. This couldn’t look good.

I gasped. “Alain. You said you would call.”

“I did. Check your phone. It’s twenty-five minutes past nine. You didn’t pick up. So I decided to come and find you instead.”

Maxwell’s eyebrows shot up and a grim expression settled on his face. He threw his napkin on the table, pushed back his chair, and rose to his feet. He didn’t offer his hand in greeting. Even though Alain was tall and slender, Maxwell practically towered over him.

Awkward.

Wanting to diffuse the situation, I scrambled to my feet.

I glanced at Alain from under my lashes. He was dressed in tight black jeans and an open-neck shirt, his jacket casually hooked over his shoulder. His dark hair hung over his forehead as he peered down at me, bestowing the most panty-wetting smile I’d had the pleasure of receiving that day.

“This is my friend, Alain,” I said in a shaky voice.

Maxwell clenched his jaw. “You didn’t mention you had a friend in Paris.” His voice was cool, his eyes like fire and ice.

“Oh, we met on the plane. Alain was seated next to me.”

Alain was grinning from ear to ear, his hand possessively on the small of my back, stroking it slowly with his thumb. I felt the blood rise to my cheeks at the intimate gesture. Didn’t Alain have any shame? It was if Alain
wanted
Maxwell to think we were lovers.

Maxwell looked as if he were going to have a coronary. He stiffened, his lips drawing into a thin line as he worked his jaw.

The eight-month contract meant he owned me during working hours, but outside of that, I could damn well make friends with whomever I pleased. Including incredibly hot Frenchmen. One of whom, currently sent delicious shivers down my spine as he kept caressing my back, in full view of my seemingly furious boss.

B
ack in my hotel room, Alain removed a bottle of wine from the mini bar. I watched in silence as he expertly filled two glasses. He raked his fingers through his hair, gazing at me pensively. Finally he spoke. “He wants to fuck you.”

My mouth dropped open. “Didn’t be ridiculous, he’s married.”

The corners of his mouth twisted into a terse smile. “You’re so naïve. That won’t stop any man if he really wants a woman.”

“Well that stops
me
,” I said, raising my chin.

“He definitely has his eye on you. This I know for a fact.” The serious tone in his voice assured me he wasn’t joking.

“Why would he want me if he has a gorgeous model for a wife? You’re being ridiculous, Alain.”

“Ah, it’s clear you don’t realize the allure you have...that’s partly what makes
you
so fucking sexy.” With three steps he closed the distance between us and pulled me against his rock-hard chest. His breath on my neck was coming hot and fast.

“A man knows when another man wants to fuck his woman,” Alain growled. Hot wet kisses trailed from my jaw to the hollow at my throat.

His woman?

“Yes, you are mine,” he rasped, as he covered my mouth with his; his tongue plundering my mouth possessively.

Pulling the pins out one by one, my hair tumbled from the restraining chignon. My breath hitched as he tousled my hair so that it fell loosely around my shoulders.

Finally. I’ve been waiting for this.

“Ah, so damn beautiful,” he said, as the corners of his sculptured mouth curved into a wicked smile. Hot kisses scorched my flesh where my breasts rose, as he deftly tugged at the zipper of my dress and slipped it off my shoulders, trailing his lips over my naked shoulders.

For a second, we both froze, as a sharp rap on the door startled us. “Our champagne. Don’t move,” he commanded. With wide eyes I watched him take three steps back toward the door, undoing the top buttons of his shirt at the same time. Not taking his smoldering eyes from me, he jerked the door open.

Over Alain’s shoulder, my gaze collided with cold blue eyes. Maxwell’s mouth hung open as he took in my tousled hair, undone zipper and swollen lips. His eyes blazed with rage, boring into mine, ignoring Alain.

“You forgot your pen.” He placed it on the entrance table. “I just wanted to check if you were OK.” The acid in his voice was unmistakable.

“I...I am fine... , ” I stammered. Talk about career-limiting moves. I shuddered.

If Maxwell Grant could have my head on a plate...

Alain stepped between us, consciously claiming me. “Mademoiselle Clarke is fine. We were just in the middle of... ”

“I can see,” Maxwell spat, his voice booming. His steely eyes narrowed. “I expect you to be ready bright and early, Miss Clarke.” He turned on his heels and slammed the door behind him.

Shaking, I sucked in a breath.

Who the hell is he to tell me what to do?

In two quick steps Alain was by my side, rubbing up my arms. “Are you OK?” he said, concern lacing his voice.

“Y...yes,” I stammered. “I...I’m tired. Must be jetlag. I’d like to go to bed now.”

Alain cocked his head, his disappointment clear. “Good night,” he said gruffly, as he kissed each of my eyelids gently, holding both my hands in his. He brushed his lips over mine as he whispered, “Dream of me.”

The door clicked softly behind him.

What the hell just happened?

My body burned with desire. I wanted my Frenchman to ravish me, yet here I stood, feeling like a naughty child. Alone. My new boss was goddamn infuriating.

After a long hot shower, I slipped into the over-sized bed. My body was tired, my eyelids heavy. I sighed as I sank into the soft mattress. Pure bliss.

The shrill ring of the phone jerked me from drifting off.

What now?

“
Hello?” I croaked. Every muscle in my body ached from exhaustion.

“I will meet you at eight a.m. sharp. In the lobby.”

I sucked in a breath.

Fucking Maxwell Grant
.

“Be ready,” he grunted. The steely command in his voice remained unwavering. “Good night, Miss Clarke.”

The man was unbelievable.

Go home to your wife and leave me the fuck alone.

I wanted to shout at him, but the words froze in my throat.

The phone clicked in my ear. Was Alain right? Did my boss have lascivious ideas? How absurd. I was simply not interested, the sooner he realized it, the better for us both. All I wanted was a delicious romance with my hot Frenchman.

Maxwell fucking Grant could go to hell.

Arrogant bastard.

Sleep would probably evade me for the rest of the night. I punched my pillow in a rage, imagining him trying to force himself onto female employees just to show them who were boss. Just because he was powerful and good looking, didn’t mean I would succumb to him. He could take his contract and shove it.

I tossed and turned, and as I finally drifted into a fitful sleep, I felt the heat of those angry dark-blue eyes boring into me.

T
here were few things I hated as much as the shrill sound of an alarm clock. Especially, this morning. I opened one eye and killed the damn thing. It felt as if I’d hardly had any sleep
.

It's going to be a bloody long day.

I cursed as I dressed in a light gray business suit and crisp white shirt. My fingers were still dumb as I did up an extra button on my shirt for good measure. I certainly didn’t want to give my boss any wrong impressions. I was a goddamn professional, and I’d prove it today. Determined to not let him unnerve me, I put on my ‘tough-bitch’ face. I only had to keep my cool today; he was flying back to New York later tonight.

This morning I was doing a presentation at eleven. Suppressing the jittery butterflies in my stomach, I swallowed the lump in my throat. Knowing Maxwell was going to be in the audience—no doubt judging me—unnerved me more than I cared to admit. I hadn’t expected my boss to be present when I’d agreed to be the keynote speaker.

Room service delivered my breakfast. I stared at the beautiful view from the ceiling-to-floor windows as I enjoyed the hearty meal. I was going to need every atom of energy I could muster today.

At exactly three minutes to eight, I exited the elevator, knowing that Maxwell would already be waiting in the lobby. My gaze fell on him and for a moment I slowed down, observing my boss. He sipped his steaming coffee, deeply engrossed in the newspaper.

I hated admitting it: Mr. Grant cut a fine figure. He was clean shaven this morning; his large frame filled his dark suit, his authoritarian air ever present. He was seemingly relaxed, yet raw masculine power exuded from every pore of his being. It was hard not to stare, there was a primal magnetism about him that made me feel a little lightheaded.

The man probably had a sixth sense; he looked up into my eyes, catching me staring at him. A wicked grin spread across his face. He leisurely raked his gaze over my body and I could feel the warmth spread from my chest to my cheeks.
Great
. With my pale skin and light suit, the blushing was probably even more visible than normal.
Shit
. I hated feeling vulnerable. I hated even more that he could freak me out with a look only.

Damn him
.

As I drew closer, I noticed that Maxwell appeared well rested. He didn’t have to hide puffy dark circles under his eyes like I had. I cursed under my breath.

“Ready for your big presentation this morning?” He grinned at me as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Did you sleep well?”

Bastard didn’t have any problems sleeping after last night’s little episode.

Hell-bent on not giving him the pleasure of knowing he managed to spoil my evening with Alain, I glared at him, pursing my lips tightly.

“Of course.” I grimaced. I simply wasn’t a morning person at the best of times. And there was no way in hell I’d let him know his piercing stare and arrogant voice had haunted me all night long. Every time I’d closed my eyes, Maxwell’s face was the one that popped up, driving me crazy till I drifted off to sleep from sheer exhaustion.

“Coffee? We still have time.” He nodded toward the chair next to him.

I shook my head. “No.” Remembering my manners, I continued, “No, thank you. I’m ready to go to the conference.”

If he thought he could order me to be ready at eight a.m. sharp so that I could sit around idly drinking coffee with him, he was sorely mistaken. This bitch needed her beauty sleep and she wasn’t going to be kind to anyone who deprived her of that one small, but necessary, pleasure.

Pivoting, I stormed toward the elevator, fuming at the cheek of the man. Still pissed off that he could get me so riled, I gasped as he appeared beside me, easily catching up to me with a few strides of those ridiculously long legs.
Goddammit
. My head was going to explode as my blood pressure rose dangerously fast.

The elevator doors opened and a sea of faces stared at me. Already full; I realized there was really only space for one more person. For the first time this morning, I allowed myself to grin. I would squeeze in, leaving Mr. Smartass Grant standing there. Alone.

“Hang on. I’m sure there is space for me, too?” Maxwell smiled sheepishly at a tall blonde woman, which had exactly the effect on her he was going for. She shifted up to allow him space next to her, smiling coyly at him.

What the hell?

Folding my arms across my chest, my gaze was glued to the numbers above the doors.

Maxwell was standing so closely behind me that I could feel his breath on my neck. I arched my back, desperate to avoid touching him. Despite feeling stiff and awkward, I couldn’t help but be acutely aware of every inch of his muscular body so close to me, the heat radiating from his body, burning through me.

Strong fingers gripped the tops of my arms, squeezing hard, before sliding down to draw my wrists behind my back. I gasped, shuddering. His hold tightened as I tried to wriggle free without drawing attention.

“Hush,” he whispered, trying to calm me down. “Struggling only makes it worse.” I couldn’t believe the nerve of this man.

Who the fuck does he think he is?