Turn on a Dime - Blane's Turn (18 page)

“Diane called her white trash,” the third said in a scandalized whisper.

Fury consumed Blane so fast, he thought his head might explode. His anger must have shown because all three women seemed to cringe.

“Take this upstairs,” he ordered, handing his briefcase to one of them. He didn’t wait to see if she obeyed, she would, before turning and heading directly for Diane’s office.

Diane Greene was an efficient office manager. Personally, Blane didn’t care for her, but she’d been at the firm for a long time and things seemed to run relatively smoothly under her. This was the first time he’d ever heard of Diane making such a vitriolic and inflammatory remark to an employee.

And she’d said it to Kathleen.

Blane didn’t knock before entering Diane’s office, though she was talking to someone who sat in the chair opposite her desk. Blane didn’t spare a glance for that person, merely fixing his gaze on Diane.

“Out,” he barked. Whoever it was scrambled up and hurried out, closing the door behind them.

Diane looked too in shock at his abrupt arrival to say anything.

“Am I to understand that you fired Kathleen Turner this morning?” Blane asked, his voice deceptively calm. “And that you proceeded to call her, and I quote, ‘white trash’?”

Diane’s face grew mottled as she stammered a reply. “Yes, Mr. Kirk, but she’s been on my warning list for a while now. She was over two hours late this morning, with no word or anything. And she left early yesterday, again without permission or warning.”

“Both instances were because she was assisting me,” Blane retorted. “Am I to check with you first before availing myself of our employees?”

“Of course not—”

“And then you made it personal by calling her a name,” Blane continued, “thereby subjecting this firm to the possibility of a discrimination lawsuit.”

Diane looked stunned at that.

Blane leaned over her desk, planting his palms flat on the surface. “Do you have any idea what it would look like?” he said softly. “Miss Turner on one side of the courtroom, you on the other? We’d have to settle in a heartbeat. I don’t think I need to tell you what the status of your job here would be if those circumstances came about.”

“N-no, sir.”

Blane stood upright and adjusted his cufflinks. “You’ll reinstate Miss Turner to her former position,” he said, “starting Monday morning.”

“But, sir, James Gage was the one who told me to fire her!”

Blane’s gaze jerked back to Diane’s. His lips pressed in a thin line and when he spoke, leashed anger coated his words. “James is not a senior partner of this firm. Therefore, my decision overrules his. Is that clear?”

Diane nodded.

“Excellent. Let’s not have this problem again, shall we?” His dry statement was greeted with a faint “No, sir” that Blane barely heard since he was already out the door and striding down the hall.

When he reached his office, he still hadn’t calmed down.

“Get James Gage down here,” he called out to Clarice. He heard her on the phone, then she hurried into his office.

“What happened?” she asked. Clarice was tuned to his moods, though right now it wouldn’t have taken a psychic to see he was royally pissed.

“James had Diane fire Kathleen,” he said.

Clarice’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because he’s a jealous fuck,” Blane bit out. The ding of the elevator distracted him and Clarice left just as James walked into his office.

“You wanted to see me?” James asked, irritation evident in his tone. Although he was William Gage’s son, he was still beholden to the senior partners and he knew it.

“Since when did you decide that firing the office runner was under your discretion?” Blane asked.

“She was shitty at her job and since when do you care?” James insolent tone sent Blane’s fury to a new level.

“You’re a lying prick,” Blane spat. “Let me guess, you went out with her the other night and when you couldn’t fuck her, you decided to fire her.”

James blanched, unable to conceal his surprise that Blane knew about his date with Kathleen, but he recovered quickly.

“You’re getting awfully worked up over a bitch in heels,” James sneered. “Did you have your eye on her already? Or were you afraid you’d get my leftovers for once?”

Blane had James by the throat and shoved against the wall before he could take another breath.

“Listen, you sonofabitch,” Blane hissed. “Even on my worst day, I’m a thousand times better than you in every way. You know it. I know it. Fuck, everybody knows it. And you may think because you’re daddy’s little boy that you have some pull around here, but you don’t. So keep your tiny dick in your pants and keep far away from Kathleen, or so help me God, you’ll live to regret it.”

James was clawing at Blane’s hand around his throat, his eyes bulging, and Blane shook him one more time, just to make sure he got the message before he let him go.

James retched, gasping for air. “You’re fucking insane,” he rasped, hurriedly backing toward the door.

“And don’t you forget it.”

James rushed out of the office and past Clarice’s desk. She stared wide-eyed after him as he pushed open the stairwell door and disappeared. She turned to Blane, who stood at the edge of her desk.

“Wow.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Happy Halloween.”

To make Blane’s day just about fucking perfect, Kandi called.

“Kandi, we broke up,” Blane said, striving for patience. “No, I don’t want to go to a party tonight with you.”

“It’s a friend of my father’s,” Kandi persisted. “He’s quite well connected in Washington, knows all the names to contact for donors. You should come. It would be beneficial to your career.”

And hazardous to his mental health
, Blane thought. Kandi and he went way back. He didn’t want to hurt her, but neither did he want to encourage her. Their most recent breakup might very well be their last. At one point, he’d thought he’d marry her when the time was right. It would be advantageous and she’d make a good politician’s wife.

But perhaps not a good wife for
him
.

“I can’t,” he said, trying a different tack. “I have plans.”

“Oh? What kind of plans?”

Kandi’s tone was different now, not pleading but edged with jealousy. Blane rubbed his tired eyes. He thought he felt another headache coming on.

“Just going with some buddies to a bar,” Blane said. It wasn’t a lie. He was going to a bar and with a couple of phone calls, he was sure he could have a few buddies who’d love to come along.

“I bought a special costume,” Kandi pouted.

“Listen, I have to go,” Blane said. “I’ll call you.” He hung up before she could say anything else. To his relief, she didn’t call back.

Meetings sucked up his afternoon and lasted into the evening. He told Clarice to go ahead and leave early. There was no sense her sticking around when she had kids who probably wanted to go trick-or-treating.

Blane went to work out first before going to The Drop. He needed to take his frustration out on something, and a punching bag took the brunt of it for a while. Alone in the steaming shower, he thought of Kathleen and wondered if she’d even speak to him when he saw her. After last night, she was probably pissed. Not that he blamed her. Then she’d been fired this morning. He hoped she’d just chilled out in her apartment today and enjoyed her new things.

Was she glad he’d done what he had? Did she like it? Maybe it would salve the hurt feelings from last night. Blane hadn’t met a woman yet who couldn’t be soothed with a few new, preferably expensive, possessions.

Speaking of last night . . .

It wasn’t hard to conjure the memory of Kathleen, her naked body pinned beneath him. Blane’s eyes slipped shut and his hand skated down his stomach to curl around his dick. He was already hard just thinking about the way she’d looked, her breasts full and ripe, the rosy tips puckered and beckoning him. He imagined what it would have been like, the taste and texture of her nipples on his tongue, the noises she would have made when he sucked.

Blane could pretend the hot water sluicing over his chest was her hands, touching him, exploring. His hand tightened on himself, stroking as he played out in his mind what he hadn’t allowed himself to do last night.

The fabric of her panties would have been so easy to tear, revealing her dripping pussy that just begged for his tongue, his cock, sliding inside her wet heat, stretching her, filling her. She would be tight, her body gripping his as he pumped inside her. He’d make her moan and gasp as he brought her to the edge. Her cries would echo in his ears as he made her come and she’d say his name in that breathy way . . .

His balls tightened, his hips thrusting his cock in his fist as Blane’s orgasm crashed over him. Warm semen coated his hand before it was washed away by the water and Blane had to brace a hand against the wall to remain standing.

If he thought fantasizing about her would ease his craving, he’d been mistaken. After dressing in jeans and a shirt, he still wanted Kathleen with the same intensity as before, perhaps more. And he honestly didn’t know what he’d do when he saw her again. He felt out of control when it came to her and it scared the shit out of him.

The Drop was wall to wall people, many in costumes. Blane spotted Kathleen immediately and froze.

He knew she’d look good in that costume, but damn. He hadn’t counted on
how
good.

Kathleen’s midriff was left exposed by the shirt she wore, or rather, barely wore. Tied between her breasts, the fabric exposed more than it hid, despite the black sports bra she had on underneath. A miniskirt that barely covered her ass, socks that came to the tops of her knees and showed too many inches of naked thigh, and braided pigtails made her every schoolboy’s wicked fantasy in the flesh.

And judging by the crowd of men surrounding the bar in front of her, Blane wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“I thought you’d show up tonight.”

Blane’s attention was forced from Kathleen as another woman stepped in front of him. She was dressed as a glittering fairy, her sleek blonde hair falling in a straight waterfall down her back. Her arms, dusted with a shimmering powder, twined around his neck.

“Kandi,” Blane said, though his greeting was perfunctory at best. “You look lovely, as always.” How the hell had she known he’d be here?

“Aren’t you going to wish me a happy Halloween?” she asked, pressing against him. Blane could smell alcohol on her and frowned. Kandi wasn’t nice at the best of times. Drunk, she could turn into a total bitch.

“What are you doing here?” Blane asked instead. “This isn’t your crowd. Why aren’t you at the party?” His hands settled on her arms, but removing them from around his neck was easier said than done.

Kandi stood on her toes and Blane obediently leaned down so she could speak into his ear.

“Don’t make me beg, Blane,” she hissed. “Stop playing hard to get and take me home. You know you want to fuck me.”

Annoyance flashed through Blane, along with disgust followed by guilt. He’d toyed with Kandi for too long, their relationship on and off again too many times for her to realize that this time he’d really meant it.

His cell phone buzzed and this time Blane was able to pry Kandi off him enough to reach it. The caller ID said it was Kade.

“I’ll be right back,” he said to Kandi. “Stay here.” She was drunk and he felt responsible for her safety. He’d take the call, then stick Kandi in a cab home.

Blane answered while he was still making his way to the door.

“Where the fuck are you?” Kade asked.

Blane finally got outside where it was blessedly quiet, the sounds of the bar and bad karaoke muffled now.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “What do you have?”

“Yeah, so bad news and good news, brother,” Kade replied. “The bad news is, Mark’s house burned to the ground today, courtesy of Jimmy.”

Blane closed his eyes with a sigh and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Wish I were, but now for the good news. There’s a good chance whatever he had on TecSol made it out. Some chick has it, but I figure I’ll have it by tonight or tomorrow night at the latest.”

Blane’s eyes shot open at this. Some “chick” had it? Surely that couldn’t be . . . no. “How are you going to get it?” he asked.

“I have my ways.”

“Don’t hurt anybody,” Blane reminded him. “And for God’s sake, don’t kill anyone either.”

“You take all the fun out of this, you know?”

Blane rolled his eyes. “Just do it my way, okay?”

“Fine,” Kade groused. “But no promises when this is over. That Jimmy asshole is really starting to piss me off.”

Blane couldn’t disagree with him there. He pocketed the phone and returned to the bar, just in time to see the second bartender placing a shot glass full of tequila between Kathleen’s breasts.

The crowd cheered and Kathleen reached up to the guy’s mirrored shades, taking them off and smiling at him. His arms slid around her waist as he whispered something in her ear. Blane’s hands curled into fists at the sight of his hands on her. He wanted to break each and every one of the bastard’s fingers.