To Love and Submit (5 page)

Back at her desk, Rachel still wasn’t sure if she had heard right. Had he just said he was taking her to lunch? Maybe he was just reminding her that he was meeting a client for lunch to make her check the online diary. That would be it—he was probably having a little dig at her because of her fuck-up yesterday.

As she fired up the computer, she glanced quickly at her mobile and saw there was a text waiting for her. It was from Mandy.

‘Did the bastard fire you? Let me know what happened. M xx’

Grinning, Rachel quickly keyed her reply,
No, he apologised! Will talk tonight. R x

A couple of minutes later, her phone bleeped again.

Sorry, not home tonight. Out with girls from work, will be late. M xx

Oh well never mind
, she thought, as she put on the headphones and lost herself in Adam Stone’s beautiful voice as she started typing.

The morning passed quickly with no dramas. Adam Stone remained courteous and polite and didn’t seem to have any complaints about her work. At twenty-five past twelve, he strode out of his office and nodded at her. “Are you ready?”

Oh God, he really was taking her to lunch! “Er, yes,” she stuttered, and quickly grabbed her bag.

Ten minutes later, they were seated in a busy, modern restaurant frequented mostly by business people.

“Mr Stone, very good to see you.” The tall, rather attractive maître d’ rushed over to their table and shook Mr Stone’s hand like an old friend before turning to Rachel and giving her a warm smile. “Have you replaced the lovely Lucy?” he asked, laughing.

Mr Stone smiled back at him. “Hello, Pierre. This is Rachel. Unfortunately, Lucy has taken ill so Rachel is helping out until the new maternity cover starts.”

Pierre’s face fell. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Please send her my best wishes.”

“Thank you.” Mr Stone took the menus Pierre was holding out to him and, without opening them, asked Rachel, “Do you eat fish?”

“Yes, but…”

“Good. Pierre, we’ll have two lemon soles with buttered new potatoes and wilted spinach.”

Rachel had been about to say that she didn’t fancy fish, but it looked like she wasn’t going to be given a choice. Oh well, luckily she liked lemon sole. Then, just as she was wondering whether to have a Diet Coke or a lemonade, Mr Stone ordered two glasses of sparkling water for them.
Bloody hell
, she thought crossly,
he could have asked
.

“Is there a problem?” Mr Stone was staring at her and she realised she must have been frowning. She quickly smoothed out her expression and replaced her disgruntled expression with a smile.

“No, of course not.”

“Good. I come here every two weeks with Lucy,” he said. “It gives us a chance to catch up without interruptions. I like to keep in touch with my employees—it makes for better working relationships.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” said Rachel, thinking briefly that if this was how he encouraged his working relationships, she’d love to see what he was like with his private relationships.
Stop it, Rachel,
she scolded herself and forced her attention back to the man opposite her.

Mr Stone leant back in his seat and studied Rachel silently before asking, “Do you enjoy working for Joe?”

“Yes, he’s a good boss, we work well together.” She thanked the waitress as she placed a glass of icy sparkling water in front of her.

“How long have you worked for him?” Mr Stone was looking at her in a way that made her feel incredibly self-conscious. His sharp eyes clearly didn’t miss a thing and she wondered if he could read all her expressions and mannerisms. She knew a lot of successful business people studied body language so they could assess people’s reactions, and the thought made her uncomfortable. What if he knew that she fancied him like mad at the same time as hating him? Mind you, that probably wasn’t an unusual occurrence for him.

She looked up at his face and saw him waiting expectantly for her answer. Shit, she’d got distracted—again.

“About six years, I think,” she said, before taking a sip of the water, knowing full well that he would already have known the answer.

“There’s something I don’t understand about you, Rachel,” he said, thoughtfully. “You’re obviously a very bright woman, your qualifications are excellent and you come across as articulate and personable, if not a little scatty.”

Do I?

“And yet,” he continued, “you don’t seem very ambitious. You’ve had several opportunities to move on at Stone Media and you’re still in the same position you were in six years ago. Why?”

Rachel didn’t bother to hide her frown this time. What the hell was wrong with having the same job for six years? It showed dedication and loyalty for God’s sake. “Mr Stone,” she said, coolly, “how long have you been CEO of Stone Media?”

There was mirth in his eyes as he answered, “Eight years.”

“And why are you still CEO? Why haven’t you sold the company or made yourself Chairman or whatever?” she demanded, angrily.

“I am Chairman.”

“Oh. Well, you know what I mean. Just because I’m a lowly secretary doesn’t mean that I’m not successful. I choose to stay in my job because I enjoy it, I like Joe and I like the stability. If I wanted to move up the corporate ladder, I would have done so, so please don’t write me off as a complete loser.”

Ha, that told him.
It was true, she was happy with her job—it paid the bills and allowed her the freedom to have fun outside work. Every year, at her appraisal, some jumped-up smart-arse from HR would ask her where she’d like to be in a year’s time and her answer was always the same—to still be doing her present job to the best of her ability.

“So it’s not because of a lack of confidence?” probed Mr Stone, his gaze never leaving her face.

“Of course not.” Rachel looked down at the table to try to hide the surge of heat staining her cheeks because Mr Stone had just seen right through her bravado and had her completely sussed. Yes, it was true that she was happy in her job, but actually she didn’t have a lot of confidence and she knew that one of the reasons she never applied for more senior positions was because she was scared she would screw up. The memory of Joe’s Genoa trip was testament to that, along with her disastrous day yesterday.

“Rachel”—Mr Stone’s voice was gentle—“I wasn’t trying to catch you out or to imply there’s anything wrong with being a secretary, I’d be lost without one, for God’s sake. I like to know who I’m working with, so I wanted to try to get to know what your thoughts and ambitions are, that’s all.” His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he added, “We’ll work on your confidence issues another time.”

Rachel was about to insist that she did not have any confidence issues when the waitress brought their food. Thankfully, that was the end of the subject.

The fish was delicious. Mr Stone had been right in ordering it—she’d never have thought to try it and would have missed out on a fabulous meal. They exchanged small talk as they ate, mostly titbits about the office, but, even though he was relaxed, Rachel had a feeling that Mr Stone was constantly assessing her, working out what she was thinking before she probably even thought it herself.

When they were finished, he sat back and ran his eyes lazily over her body. She felt herself turn a deep puce and moved uncomfortably in her chair.

“Dessert?” he asked.

“Oh, no thanks.” She smiled, and took another sip of water.

“Can we see the dessert menu?” he asked the waitress, as she cleared their table.

“Yes, of course.” She smiled, and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Rachel stifled a giggle. The girl was actually flirting with her boss. Then she blushed when she remembered all the times she must have fluttered her eyelashes at him herself. Shit, she hadn’t realised it was so obvious.

The young girl came back with a menu and handed it to Mr Stone. He glanced at it briefly and returned his gaze to Rachel, eyebrows slightly furrowed, as if he were contemplating something.

“Do you prefer vanilla,” he murmured, “or are you more adventurous?”

“Sorry?” Rachel felt her cheeks burn as she tried to appear innocently oblivious to the inferred nature of his question.

“Ice cream. Do you prefer plain, predictable vanilla or would you like to try something a bit more exotic and interesting like passion fruit sorbet?” Mr Stone’s face remained completely straight and Rachel suddenly realised he must have been talking about ice cream all along. Oh God, she’d thought he was asking about her sexual preferences. What was wrong with her?

“I’m fine, thank you,” she managed to reply. “I really don’t need a dessert.”

“She’ll try the sorbet,” said Mr Stone, and handed the waitress the menu. “I’ll just have a coffee.”

“Mr Stone, I really don’t…” Rachel’s voice trailed off when she caught his icy eyes glaring at her. She was clearly going to have the sorbet whether she liked it or not. “Are you always so bossy?” she grumbled under her breath.

“Yes, Rachel,” he replied, his voice soft, but with a dark undertone. “One day you’ll learn that I will always know what you want, even before you do, and when that time comes you’ll obey me without question. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. Wow—did he know about her BDSM fantasies, and if so was he making a pass at her or was he just talking about her choices of food? His words could be taken in either context and she sighed in relief as the waitress brought her dessert so she could concentrate on tucking into it rather than thinking about the hot, throbbing sensation growing between her legs.

Chapter Five

At six o’clock, with all her work up to date and the phone finally quiet, Rachel logged off her computer and cleared the last couple of things from her desk. She glanced at Mr Stone’s closed door and felt a nervous twitch settle into a hard lump in her stomach.

Did she dare knock on the door and risk disturbing him? Should she ask if she could leave or should she just slip out without bothering him? Yesterday, he’d told her she could go, but his door had been open so he obviously hadn’t been too busy. Did the fact that his door was closed now mean ‘Do Not Disturb’?

The trouble was, she needed to talk to him and even though it would probably really annoy him to be disturbed for something so trivial, it was important to her and she needed an answer.

So, with a shaking hand, she knocked gently on his door and waited.

“Yes?” He sounded annoyed.

She peeped nervously around the door and gave him a shaky smile, which was futile as he didn’t even look up from his laptop. “Er, Mr Stone? I was wondering if I could have a word, please?”

He finally looked up and actually smiled at her. “What can I do for you, Rachel?” He didn’t sound annoyed at all, she realised with relief. The thought made her feel a bit braver as she made her way over to his desk and waited to be invited to sit.

When he didn’t say anything, she remained standing and cleared her throat. “I was just wondering if…if you have any idea how long I’ll be working for you. Not that I mind,” she said, hastily. “It would just be helpful to know.”

Mr Stone’s eyes darkened and a look of anger crossed his face as he glared at her in disbelief. Oh shit, she wished she hadn’t said anything now.

“Didn’t HR fill you in?” he asked, with an edge to his voice that made her want to run out of his office and hide.

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, you’re right, I should have spoken to them first.”

“No, Rachel. That’s not good enough, you shouldn’t have to chase them. I asked them yesterday to let you know the terms of this arrangement.” He picked up his phone and punched a key. “Jason?” he said, after a couple of seconds. “Who’s in charge of organising Lucy’s replacement?” He waited in silence as Jason checked his files. “Thanks,” he growled. “Send him up to my office,
now
.”

He slammed the phone down and ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Rachel, I’m very sorry that no one has spoken to you about this. I’ve had a temporary contract drawn up with details of your new pro rata salary and working hours. I don’t know the exact date Lucy’s maternity cover was due to start, but I know she was roughly three months away from going on leave.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She started to turn so she could retreat back to the safety of her own office, but Mr Stone called her back.

“Sit down!” His voice had the same angry tone as yesterday, but she felt comforted by the knowledge that it wasn’t her he was pissed off with. Still, she didn’t particularly want to witness some poor sod getting hauled over the coals because of her. She sat down as instructed, automatically casting her eyes downwards, and waited in an uncomfortable silence for the HR guy to arrive. She glanced up at Mr Stone briefly, but wished she hadn’t when she saw his tightly clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

She heard the lift ping in the hall and a few seconds later, someone knocked softly on the door. “Mr Stone?”

“Michael!” Mr Stone gestured for the young man to approach. Rachel, feeling really sorry for the poor guy, looked back down at the floor and wished she was somewhere else. Michael looked ashen, she could see his hands trembling slightly as he stood before the large desk. He knew he was in trouble.

“Were you given the job of organising Lucy’s replacement when she was taken ill yesterday?” Mr Stone’s voice sounded steady, but deadly, and Rachel felt Michael’s fear.

“Yes, Mr Stone,” whispered Michael, wiping his hands on the back of his trousers.

“Did Jason ask you to make sure Miss Porter was given a copy of the temporary contract?”

“Well, the thing is Mr…” Michael’s voice faltered.

“Yes or no?” snapped Mr Stone.

Michael’s face was now flushed a deep red. “Yes. I’m sorry, I needed to check some dates and by the time it was ready last night, Miss Porter had left. I was going to send it up first thing this morning but…”

Mr Stone’s voice was very quiet when he cut Michael off, but it was way more intimidating than it would have been if he’d shouted. “I don’t know what the hell you guys down there do all day, but I will
not
tolerate such incompetence. Get me that contract
now
and the next time I come across your name it had better not have anything to do with negligence. Now get out!”