‘Tell me, Valentine, do you like what you see?’ I stroke my chest now, so softly I can barely feel the caress of my fingers as they trail between my breasts, over my stomach and smooth down my side. All the while his eyes follow their path, hooked, mesmerised.
‘You’re a very attractive woman, Olivia.’
I know he means it. His gravel-thick voice is tight with it.
‘That’s not an answer. Do you find me attractive?’
He swallows, his eyes flicker and I know he’s fighting his own response.
‘I could check myself.’ I purposefully lower my gaze to where his shirt meets with his trousers, and lower still, to the obvious bulge thickening behind his zip. ‘If you like?’
He steps back. ‘Olivia...’
‘Olivia...?’ I purr, stepping forward.
‘I should never have gone up those stairs. I’m sorry that I did. I’m sorry that it puts you in an awkward position now.’
‘Puts me in an awkward position?’ I purposefully eye his zip again. ‘I think it perhaps puts you in a more awkward position. Tell me, Valentine, have you thought of it often since that night? Have you thought about all you witnessed? Me, on my knees, naked, chained...?’
I reach out to trail a finger down his chest and he grabs my hand. ‘Don’t.’
‘Don’t what? Tease you?’
His jaw pulses, his nostrils flare and his hand flexes around mine, hot and strong, the physical touch as tantalising as an intended caress.
‘But you left, Valentine, you ran out just as it was getting good... Just think what you missed out on.’
He releases my hand, drags in a breath as he backs up, but I’m not letting him get away this time. I have no idea where this confidence is coming from now but there’s something about the wild look in his eye that reaffirms his rejection had nothing to do with not wanting me and everything to do with the job he’d been asked to do.
And yes, he deserves hell for spying on me, for watching me, for running...but maybe this is a kind of torture for him.
Whatever the case, I’m having too much fun teasing and tormenting to get all huffy and pissed off.
In fact, I think an outright seduction will go some way to blotting out our teeny tiny history and creating a new one.
Valentine
She’s so close I can smell her perfume. I can see the tiny flecks of brown in her otherwise crystal-blue eyes. And I can sure as hell read the tease that’s there.
It’s nothing like the tease in the boardroom now. The gloves are off and she’s going all in, and I really need to get the hell out of here before—
‘What are you scared of, Valentine?’
‘Stop. Just stop.’ I hold a hand up to her and she steps into it, presses her chest up against my palm. Fuck. I haven’t felt a woman since...
‘I won’t tell, if you won’t?’
I shake my head. ‘That’s not how it works.’
She smiles, gives a soft laugh that has her body vibrating into my palm and I snap it away, fist it into a ball at my side but I can’t seem to step away any further. I feel like I’m being drawn in, transfixed by her every movement as she sips at her wine, so cocksure, so hypnotic.
‘I beg to differ. That’s exactly how it works, and I’ll be happy to show you, educate you even...’
‘Educate me?’ I sound as strangled as my dick as it strains against my clothing, my blood surging south as my heart pounds in my ears.
‘I have many years on you, many years of experience I’d be willing to share. What you witnessed a month ago is nothing compared to...’
She reaches out, her hand resting against my chest before trailing lower. My torso contracts, my breath stalling... No, no, no. I grab her wrist, stop her before she can reach her target. Me. Four years of going without. Hard and oh, so willing.
‘I came to apologise and clear the air.’ The words hurry out. ‘Nothing more.’
Her eyes blaze into mine. ‘You sure about that?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t want to see what you missed out on?’
I gulp in air.
‘You don’t want to...’ she scrapes her teeth over her lower lip ‘...fuck me right now?’
Yes. God, yes. I do.
My hand pulses around her wrist as my mind vies for control over my body. Think about the job. Think about her state of mind. The real reason you’ve been brought in. She’s using you in the same way she used that club, Electra, the Bugatti... She’s using you to aid in her downfall. To feed the vicious cycle of grief she’s trapped in.
‘I’m not what you’re looking for, Olivia.’
‘Oh, I think you’re exactly what I’m looking for.’
I shake my head. ‘No, I’m not. And I’m flattered, believe me I’m flattered, but...’
She pales, her eyes widening into mine as they seem to tremble and probe in one. ‘You’re rejecting me...again?’
She backs up, snatches her hand away. ‘God, what’s wrong with me? I’m such a fool.’
‘You’re no fool. You’re just...grieving.’
She’s still backing away and I don’t think she’s even listening to me now.
‘Consider your apology delivered. You can go.’
I flounder as she turns away, walking up to the sliding doors that lead out onto an enclosed garden that’s like a mini oasis. Paradise in the heart of London. All hard landscaping with potted plants flourishing, a narrow pool with a stone waterfall and a glass sheltered bathing area set off to one side.
She watches the water, her gaze withdrawn, her arms folded across her middle. Her blood-red lips, nails, shoes the only colour in the room and at total odds with it. The observation is peculiar in both its presence and its timing. Why would I even pick up on it?
Perhaps because she doesn’t seem to belong in this hard, contemporary shell. What I’ve seen of her is so vibrant, colourful, daring.
‘I said you can go.’
Except I don’t want to go. Not now. I don’t want to leave her like this. Her bleak demeanour is all the
