Chapter Three
“Ms. Burke?… Ms. Burke?”
Goddammit. Can the woman not give me an ounce of peace? I’m in the fucking shower for god’s sake.
“Yes, Lucy?” I shout above the spray, feeling ridiculous.
“Mr. Valentine buzzed and said he wants to see you five minutes ago,” she offers nervously.
“Tell him unless he’d like to see me naked and wet he can wait five more.”
“Y-yes, Ms. Burke.”
I can’t decide whether to laugh—I would give up one of my quarterly bonuses to watch her say that verbatim to Jack—or berate myself. That was mean. While I don’t feel guilty about giving Lucy a hard time when she’s earned it, this is not one of those times. I’m a grouch because this damn report needs to be picture-perfect by five o’clock East Coast time and because I’m on edge about this weekend.
I’d woken to a text from Rey:
Changes to contract all approved. You’re good to go. Call me tonight.
That was a relief, but I find my mind drawn back to Cris Ardmore again and again. What is it about this guy? I’ve had varying degrees of Dom-crushes on these men before we meet, but no matter how hot the picture or tantalizing the contract, I’ve never been so damn distracted. I scrub my fingers over my scalp, humming to myself, and then rinse the suds from my hair, along with thoughts of this diverting man. Down the drain you go, Mr. Ardmore. For now.
I turn the spray all the way to cold and force myself to stand under it for a full minute. I’m going to need all my wits about me to get out of here alive at the end of the day, and this will be a good wake-up call.
Not as good as the pounding of a heavy fist at my door, though. That is not Lucy.
“India!”
“And a good morning to you, Jack.” A few seconds short of a minute, but I turn off the water.
“I didn’t give you an office with an en suite so you could be Bathtime Barbie.”
I open the door as I finish tucking the towel around myself and look up at him. He’s a lot taller when I haven’t got my heels on.
“I know. It was to up the likelihood for delightful moments of sexual harassment like this one.”
“Jesus, India. Put some goddamn clothes on!”
I roll my eyes as I slam the door in his beet-red face. “Will do.”
When I walk into his office three minutes later, fully clothed as requested in a bright yellow sheath dress with a wide black belt, he’s mellowed some. He looks me up and down. “I preferred the towel.”
“Sleaze bag.”
He cocks his head in consideration before shrugging and starting in on his tirade about the latest draft of the report. It’s a short rant, and I feel good about being able to get this in on time. I saw earlier that Janis sent me more of the numbers I need. Hopefully, it’s the last of them. Otherwise, we’re going to have another delightful phone call.
When Jack’s through with me, I haul ass back to my office and busy myself filling in the blanks, only to look up and see it’s heading on one o’clock. Shit. I have an hour. I need an hour and a half for this to be spit-polished and sparkling, so I pick up my phone.
“Cooper,” snaps a rude voice.
“Constance, my love.”
“Hello, India.” Her snarl turns into a purr in an abrupt about-face. “I thought I wouldn’t be hearing from you for another fifty-nine… Oh, wait, make that fifty-eight minutes.”
“Would it ruin your day if I had this in your inbox at five thirty?”
“No. I’m about to leave, and I’m not going to look at it until tomorrow, anyway. Take all night if you want it.”
“I don’t. I want this off my desk as much as you do. It’ll be there by five thirty.”
“Can I call you if there are problems? I prefer dealing with you.”
“Monday. I’ll be in early—ten your time.”
“Another lost weekend?”
“Here’s hoping.” The thought of Cris Ardmore slips into my mind. “But, hey, do me a solid? At least keep up appearances. Call Janis first and give her a hard time. I’ll tell her to let me handle you if you get too rough with her, and then we can catch up.”
“You’re a crafty bitch, Burke. I like it. Now stop flapping your very well-paid gums and finish my damn report. You’re billing us for this, aren’t you?”
“By the word,” I chirp, and she laughs her throaty laugh.
“Have a good weekend.”
“You, too. Tell Glory I say hi. We’ll talk Monday.”
I hang up in a much better mood. Cooper happens to be our HUD liaison on the LAHA receivership, and everyone involved is terrified of her. Her name—Cooper—strikes fear in the heart of the most seasoned housing administrator. I really think they believe that’s her only name. She even made the IT department at HUD, against policy, change her email address to just [email protected] She’s a self-described big, black butch, and she can clear a room like no one else I know.
Cooper also happens to be the alter ego of the sweetest girl I knew at Princeton—Constance Cooper from Asheville, North Carolina—and she adores me. I’ve had the pleasure of eating her mother’s fried chicken and okra more than once, but nobody needs to know that. I’ll let them think I’m a fucking unicorn.
I remember the night I met Cooper almost as clearly as I remember meeting Rey. That late September evening had been a night of a lot of firsts. My first play party, held at an opulent home halfway between Princeton and Manhattan, which proved to be a little different from the keg parties that were going down back on campus. It was the first time I felt the comfort of a collar around my neck. It had bound me to Rey in a way I’d never been attached to anyone before. The leather buckled snug around my throat made me feel secure—like part of Rey would never leave me, he’d always be thinking of me, because I belonged to him. I was his responsibility. That’s what the closed silver lock hanging heavy at my throat said to everyone else in the crowd, too.
Perhaps most importantly, that was the night I met Hunter. He was the host of the party and the owner of the impressive house. Older and so handsome, he’d made my mouth water. Not to mention he’d played the white knight—or maybe a black one—by rescuing me from an uncomfortable encounter with a disrespectful Dom who’d laid hands on me in a way I didn’t care for.
Hunter had apologized for the guy’s behavior and promised no one there would’ve actually let something bad befall me. “You’d never come back.”
“What makes you so sure I’ll come back now?”
He’d leaned back and smiled, a small, knowing smile. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. There was something about him…
“Won’t you?” He’d cocked an arched brow, and my whole self had clenched around a part of my body I was becoming increasingly familiar with.
“Yes, sir.”
His hand had tightened around my arm. Unlike when the other Dom had crushed me, the pressure felt good. I’d been surprised but hadn’t protested when his other hand snaked around my waist and he’d pulled me flush against him. He’d slid his hand over my shoulder, up my neck, and into my hair where he’d tugged it back until I looked at him.
“There’s a good girl.”
I was a lost cause. I would’ve done—eventually did do—anything to hear him say that again.
The thought of Hunter—a brief stab of bleakness like a knife between my ribs—snaps me back to attention. No time to fall down that particular rabbit hole. I’ve got shit to do.
* * *
I scramble to get the report finished and into Cooper’s inbox at 5:29 p.m. EST. When it’s sent, I’m unsurprised there’s a knock at my door.
“Come in.” I extend the invitation, though I know who it is. He’s already opening the door, and he’s got a bottle and two highball glasses in his hands.
“Well done, Ms. Burke,” Jack booms, setting the glasses on my desk next to my red soles. He opens the bottle with a flourish and pours us both a generous amount. I don’t bother to ask what it is. I know. It’s bourbon and a really good bourbon, at that.
“To you, India, and your silver tongue. I don’t know what your secret with Cooper is, but I’m glad you’re on my side.” He raises an arm in a toast and offers me his glass to clink.
“Giving-me-a-better-parking-spot glad?” Bourbon time is a good time to ask favors. Partly because he only drinks it when he’s pleased, but also because I know he’s already had one in his office before he gets to mine.
Jack drops into one of the chairs across from my desk, takes a long draught, and looks thoughtful. “Why not? Lucy!”
“Yes, sir?”
Poor Lucy. She’s terrified of Jack. She’s never mastered the whole not-crying-when-he-yells thing.
“Tell Jerome Ms. Burke will be parking in 1702 from now on.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucy squeaks before skittering out of my office.
I’m taken aback. That’s the spot right next to Jack’s, and it’s reserved for the current Mrs. Valentine. Not that she visits often, but when she does, god forbid she should have to walk more than a couple yards to the front door.
“And what is Candi going to say about that?”
“Probably much the same as she said last night when I told her I wanted a divorce. It sounded an awful lot like ‘Go to hell, you spineless motherfucking bastard.’”
Shit.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” I don’t want to talk about this, but I should observe the bare minimum of social niceties, right?
“We were never a good match. More?” Jack’s already pouring another measure into his glass.
“No, thanks.”
I’m still sipping at the first ration, and I’m only having the one. I have a few things to take care of before I leave for the day—for the weekend!
“You know any nice girls you could set me up with? Or nice women? Either one, I’m not picky. So long as she has two thoughts in her head to keep each other warm at night,” he muses, sounding maudlin.
Must get Jack out of my office before this turns into a sob-fest.
“I don’t know anyone nice. I spend too much time with you.”
“You were a bitch when you got here, Burke. Don’t try to blame me.”
“That’s one of the reasons you like me so much. I’m the only kind of girl who can put up with you.”
“Too bad you’re way more valuable to me sitting behind that desk than bent over it.”
Whoa. What the fuck? Jack frequently says inappropriate things to me, and I don’t care. I can give as good as I get—witness Towelgate—but this has a different flavor. I’ve never thought Jack had any lascivious interest in me and I sure as hell don’t have any in him, but what he said and the way he said it… It gives me the creeps.
“And don’t you forget it.” Though my face stays light and teasing, there’s an edge to my tone that he catches, coloring.
“Never. You’ll have everything on my desk before you go?”
“Consider it done.”
I push my chair away from my desk to put my feet back on the floor. Jack takes this as the cue to leave it is, raising his glass to me on the way out. “Excellent. See you Monday.”
* * *
It’s ten thirty when I deposit documents for three projects on Jack’s long-abandoned desk. There are already digital copies in his inbox. I’ve set up my out-of-office message on my voicemail and email and left my Blackberry on my desk in plain view. When I take time off, I take it off.
I turn up my music loud on my way home and sing at the top of my lungs. I need to pack, but it shouldn’t be difficult. Mr. Ardmore hasn’t specified wardrobe or grooming requirements. Thank god, too, because I didn’t have time to go shopping or get a wax. I hum my way up to my apartment and take up my phone and a glass of wine as soon as I’m inside. Rey picks up after the first ring. He’s been waiting for me.
“Please tell me you’re done for the day.”
“Yes, I just set foot in the door.”
“Packing?”
“Starting now.” I drag my weekend bag out from my closet and start to select clothes for the trip on the off-chance I’ll need them.
“Are you excited?”
“Yeah. More than usual. There’s something about this guy. I can’t get him out of my head.”
“I think you’re going to like this one.” Rey’s tone is a sing-song tease, sounding like my BFF helping me get ready for a big first date. Which I suppose he is.
“I hope so.”
We chat while I get my things together. As we’re signing off, Rey sneaks in a final reminder. “Remember, when you get there, you’re not his sub yet. He wants to talk to you. So give the man what he wants for an hour, and then you can play.”
“All right, all right.” I roll my eyes, although I’m thankful for the advice. Cris Ardmore’s demands for conversation throw me.
“Matthew will meet you when you land in Kona. Be good, be careful.”
“I always am.”