~ Ava

 

“Fuck. Me.”

I wasn’t usually a potty mouth. In fact, I was pretty hesitant when it came to cursing, even in the most trying of times. But, there was trying and then there was desperate, and I was rapidly losing my grip on the former and sliding into the latter.

Tugging my lower lip between my teeth, I dropped my bag on the floor at the entryway of my cubicle, staring down at the figures on the paper I held.

Usually, I was pretty ok with my job. At the very least, it put food on the table and my boss wasn’t too strict. At the most, I met interesting people and got to mold their image in whatever way I wanted. But I always dreaded the first of every month. I tossed and turned the night before and woke up with a headache, which meant that heading into the office was next to impossible. But I knew better than to call out. Anyone calling out on the day of the monthly performance report was immediately red-flagged.

And that was the last thing I needed.

So, there I was, staring at the woefully incriminating proof of what I already knew: My numbers were down. Way down.

Of course, I had never been the company’s star publicist anyway. I was far more content to take the more uniquely interesting clients and make them more palatable to the masses. Transforming introverts into trendsetters was my thing, and I happened to think I was pretty darn good at it.

The problem was that the clients I worked with were simply too low key to garner much attention—and if they did, it was a very niche audience they drew.

Case and point, one of my current and favorite clients, Gretchen Boyle. She was the writer of an up and coming young adult fantasy series that knocked my socks off. When I heard that she was up on the potential client list, I might have peed myself a little. The reality of the situation was even better than I had imagined. Gretchen was kind, if a little mousy, and very enthusiastic about her work. She was excited about the prospect of me introducing her to a greater audience and we worked exceedingly well together.

The issue was that her numbers weren’t increasing fast enough for her publisher, which meant that my paychecks were small. It was a caveat I was willing to accept. After all, Gretchen wasn’t my only client. But I didn’t have the final say in which client remained with which publicist. If the numbers in my hand were any indication, Gretchen and I wouldn’t be entertaining one another for very much longer.

While I was still frowning down at the document as if I could challenge it out of existence, the phone rang. It was enough to startle me the rest of the way into my cubicle. Dropping into my chair, I smoothed a few stray strands of blonde hair back into place before answering the phone.

“Tanner Publicity Firm, Ava Parker speaking.”

“Hey, Ava.” I froze, my stomach twisting. It was Gretchen. She hadn’t even uttered a handful of words, and she already sounded meek and apologetic.

I knew what was coming. “Hi, Gretchen.” Somehow, I managed to choke the words out. “What’s up? How’s the planning for the new book tour going?”

The long silence that ensued couldn’t possibly bode well. “There’s not going to be a book tour, Ava. My publishing company canceled it—they say they can’t justify the costs.”

I winced, knowing how hurt she must be. For the past six months, she and I had battled together in an attempt to get her company to cut her more slack... and here we had the unfortunate results of failure. “Ava, I can’t keep this up. You’re great…” Gretchen’s voice hitched in what might have been a sob and somehow, I felt even more awful. “But I can’t pay you. And the publishers sure aren’t going to do it for me.”

All this dancing around was starting to make me squirm. I wanted her to say it. But Gretchen wasn’t the type. Being cruel, even unintentionally, wasn’t in her nature. I would have to do it for her.

Ava, the ever-magnanimous. “It’s ok, Gretchen. I understand.” My words held an admirable amount of warmth, all things considered. “A different publicist would be better for you anyway. I’m a little too bleeding-heart committed to things.”

“You’re wonderful, Ava.” To my surprise, Gretchen retorted almost immediately, her tone firm despite the regret that colored it. “And this has nothing to do with you. I wish things could be different.”

All in all, it wasn’t my best morning. By ten o’clock I was dying for a bottle of wine and the comfort of my own bed. It didn’t help that I was supposed to write a report on how I could further the effectiveness of my methods. The fact of the matter was that I couldn’t give a damn about what profits I garnered the company. More important to me was the client and that I worked well with them. That they were happy with the route I was taking. That they felt good about themselves. I might be a little too empathetic for my profession, I knew, but how the hell could I work with someone I didn’t even like?

“You look... less than chipper.”

I wanted to be alone for lunch—meaning that when my best friend popped her head into my cubicle, I merely groaned.

“Thanks. Really appreciate it.”

Of course, Sandy wasn’t so easily intimidated. She’d known me since we started work at Tanner together, almost five years now, which meant that she also knew how to dispel my woes. “Let me guess—Monthly performance report?”

Sighing, I pushed back from my desk to turn and face her with a frown. “What tipped you off?”

Looks-wise, Sandy was everything I wasn’t. She was tall, dark-haired and voluptuous—so much so that the guys in the office were always hankering after her. Sandy, however, knew better than to mix work with pleasure—though she was a wealth of knowledge on both the former and the latter.

“Well, it is the first of the month... and I’ve never seen anything else get you so down.”

“Not true,” I pointed out, running a hand through my hair to toy with the fine tendrils of my ponytail. “You’ve seen me down a lot.”

Sandy frowned. “Not for work reasons.”

Right. This was hardly the time to get into the Christmas catalog of my other woes. I had enough on my plate as it was. “Well, if you happen to have a foolproof method to change the way I think, I’d love to hear it.”

“No one wants to change your personality, Ava.” Sandy leaned back against my desk with a deep sigh. “You have a great personality. Clients love you.”

“Poor clients,” I corrected. “Which means small paychecks.”

“Oh, come on. You just need one or two bigwigs to put you on the map.” Sandy considered my crestfallen expression a moment before she straightened with a small smile. “Actually, what you need just now is a good plate of pasta and a glass of wine.” She grabbed my hand to tug me towards the doorway of the cubicle. “Come on. Lunch time.”

I groaned, resisting half-heartedly. “I have to look for new clients.”

“We can talk about it over lunch. Come on, you need the sunshine. Plus, I’m bigger than you.” Sandy grinned conspiratorially. “I’ll drag your skinny ass out of here if I have to.”

I knew better than to underestimate her. The one time we’d gotten ridiculously drunk together she had all but carried me home. I didn’t doubt her strength—or her resolve.

Ten minutes later we were down the block at one of our favorite Italian bistros. Usually, it was sandwiches or pizza. Sandy knew I was desperately saving to get out of my boxy little apartment in Brooklyn but today, I needed something to take my mind off my troubles.

The first sip of wine was like nirvana to my system. The first glass relaxed me enough that I didn’t hold it against Sandy when she told me she was paying for our meal. I hated relying on other people. When I was college I ate enough instant ramen to choke a horse because I refused to ask my mother for money.

But that was another hang-up completely.

“Here.” I jumped the moment a magazine landed on the table between us, threatening to displace my precious wine. While I glowered at Sandy, she merely tapped the magazine cover with a finger pointedly, drawing my attention to it.

And it made my stomach clench.

The magazine was your run-of-the-mill entertainment rag. How to Heat Up Your Sex Life! Celebrity Scandal! Get the Body You’ve Always Wanted! Nothing I would ever be caught dead reading. The cover image, however, gave me even more pause.

Slowly, I raised my gaze to my best friend. “Ares Wolfe?”

It was a name everyone who wasn’t born under a rock was more than familiar with. The man had inherited a small fortune from his grandfather in his early twenties and used it to build a thriving real-estate empire. He was one of the most affluent men in the world.

As well as one of its more eligible bachelors.

Ares looked every bit like the prodigal war-god after which he was named: dark-haired with vivid gray eyes; and a cutting jaw that had most women the world over fanning themselves at the mere sight of him. His six-foot-three frame was always wrapped in designer suits, and he was known for spending money like it was water; not that he didn’t always have more to spare.

“Ares Wolfe,” Sandy repeated with a smug smile, “The client you need.”

My eyes almost popped out of my head as my jaw dropped onto the table. “If you’re joking, Cassandra, that’s not very funny.”

“I’m not joking.” Sandy cast a gorgeous smile of thanks at the waiter, effectively stunning him for a moment before he refilled our water glasses. “You need a high-profile client. Just one to get your numbers up and your name out there.”

I started to shake my head slowly. “High profile is one thing, but Ares Wolfe?”

Sandy arched a brow. “What’s wrong with him? He’s filthy rich, successful, and hot as hell. He’d be perfect for you.”

“What’s wrong with him?” I returned incredulously. “How about what isn’t wrong?” There wasn’t enough wine in the world to distract me from this line of conversation. “The man’s a goddamned hurricane, Sandy. Wherever he goes, he leaves a path of destruction; and, that’s putting it lightly.”

I was in no way exaggerating. While no one would dispute that Ares was one of the most affluent men in the world, he was also one of the wildest. It seemed like every other week there was some article or another with a profusion of pictures of him getting into a barfight or sleeping with married women. The man was a force of nature—and he used his money to buy enough leeway to wriggle out of the complicated-as-hell situations he got himself into without a second thought.

He was the ultimate bad boy—which, admittedly, didn’t deter most women.

But it intimidated the hell out of me.

“Oh, come on, Ava. He’s not a monster, he’s a man.” Sandy took a sip of her own wine contemplatively, her tone reassuring. “And men have reasons for being the way they are.”

With a sigh, I leaned back against the plush cushioning of the booth, crossing my hands over my chest stubbornly. “Or... he could just be a jerk.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “A jerk with a lot of money. A jerk who could make your career.”

“Like he would ever even meet with me,” I retorted with a scowl. “It might not have occurred to you, but not everyone has as high an opinion of me as you do.”

Sandy frowned. “You’re a good publicist, Ava. You’re just particular about your clients.” She paused for a moment, toying with her lower lip before she continued carefully. “What would you say if I told you I could get you a meeting with Ares?”

I paused with a bite of pasta halfway to my mouth. “I’d say…” I managed, once I picked my jaw up for the second time. “That I can’t imagine what you did to arrange that.”

Sandy laughed. “Less than you think. I know a guy that knows a guy.”

I dropped my fork, properly shocked now. “Wait, what? You’re serious?”

“As a grave.” She took a bite of her own lunch, cool as a freaking cucumber. “I’ve made you an appointment. I want you to meet him.”

I shook my head so hard my updo came loose, blonde strands falling messily about my face. “No way. Doesn’t he already have a publicist? Why the hell would he want to meet me?”

“He does have a publicist, a bad one. So bad that his lead stockholders are pushing him to find someone else to help improve his public image. Which is where you come in.”

I reached blindly for my wine glass to drain what remained in a single gulp. “Why me?” I was desperate for any kind of re-direction at this point. The very idea of being in the same room with Ares Wolfe was enough to make me hyperventilate. Even if I was to take higher profile clients, it wouldn’t be anyone like him. “Why don’t you meet with him? You have a history with clients on his level—you’re way better at dealing with this stuff than I am.”

“I’m already swamped with clients as things are.” Sandy took a long sip of her wine. “Richard has been saying I’m at the office too much. He wants me to spend more time with him and the kids.”

That, I could understand. Sandy had been married for five years; mostly happily from what I knew. But, she could be kind of a workaholic. She made more than enough for her husband to be a stay-at-home dad, and Richard accepted this with a grace most men didn’t possess. Wanting to spend more time with his wife was a completely reasonable request.

I pushed my plate away, having suddenly lost any and all semblance of my appetite. “You’re serious. You want me to meet Ares Wolfe.”

Sandy didn’t have any problem eating. But she had, of course, just dumped the devil incarnate on my doorstep. She’d probably sleep like a baby that night. “Yep. Next Wednesday.”

Wednesday?

Fuck my life.

Though I wasn’t thrilled to be shoved into the situation by any means, I spent the next few days doing research on the man—just to prepare myself. If I expected any information I found to disprove what the tabloids said, I was sorely disappointed.

While Wolfe had made it onto the covers of several far more reputable magazines—Forbes, Business Insider, INC, and The Motley Fool amongst them, he was also in almost every gossip rag known to man. Every week there was a new woman, a new party, and a new extravagant purchase to reaffirm his billionaire playboy status.

And none of it made me feel any better.

As for me, after losing Gretchen, it seemed like my bank account balance dropped exponentially every day. There were bills to pay and the rent, groceries to buy, and everyday expenses made me squirm every time I pulled my wallet from my purse. I was going to have to start dipping into my savings soon, and that thought was enough to incite a mini-panic attack.

I’d been saving up for a down payment on a Manhattan townhouse for four years and I was so close I could almost taste it—but the past six months had yielded little to nothing for my house fund.

Which meant that, when Wednesday rolled around, I put on my big girl panties and prepared to go downtown.

When I went to visit my clients in the city, I usually stay well above Midtown. Rent is cheaper the higher up you go, depending on the neighborhood, of course. All New Yorkers understood that Midtown and lower meant you were shelling out big bucks for the tiniest spaces. Ares Wolfe’s gigantic office building was smack in the middle of the West Village.

High rent district.

Of course, it wasn’t as if I had never seen the building before. The Wolfe Skyscraper was in the news almost daily, along with a running commentary on Ares’ new business acquisitions and who he was dating.

Somehow, the darned thing was far more intimidating in person.

My appointment was Wednesday morning at ten o’clock sharp, and so, at nine thirty, I was standing at the curb, staring up at the mountain of glass and steel that towered above me.

The last thing I wanted to do was go into that building. Despite my mother and sister’s constant harassing, despite the insistence that the only way I would ever make money as a publicist was to put my personal feelings aside, I didn’t want this. I didn’t want Ares Wolfe.

Ultimately, it came down to my morals. Sandy set this up for me. She was both my friend and a respected fellow publicist. Not going would be a slight to her—which meant that, at nine fifty, I marched myself through the front doors of the Wolfe building and made my presence known.

“Ava Parker, here for my ten am with Mr. Wolfe.” The girl at the lobby looked like something straight off the cover of Vogue. Tall, slim, bright green eyes with an artistic smattering of freckles and porcelain skin, she wore a suit that had to be designer, and tailored at that. It was obvious that Wolfe wanted the first impression of his company to be a good one.

“Parker... Parker…” Her face was carefully blasé. I strongly suspected she couldn’t feel anything after all the plastic surgery she’d had to make her perfect. “Ah, yes. Parker.” When she finally looked at me, the derision in her gaze made me question the prim black suit I wore. It wasn’t the sexiest thing in the cosmos. Truth be told, it was a size or two too big, but I was perfectly comfortable without putting my goods on display.

Unlike some people.

“Go right up,” she finally directed, the corner of her mouth turning up slightly in amusement at something I couldn’t imagine. “He’s expecting you.”

As nervous as I was, it was almost a relief to slip from the huge lobby and into the elevator. One more moment with the receptionist and I might have sunk into the floor in embarrassment.

Wolfe’s office was on the fiftieth floor—at the very top of the building. By the time the elevator doors opened, it took everything I had not to bolt right back where I came from. Only remembering Sandy made me straighten my spine and find my pride.

There was another gorgeous woman present the moment I stepped onto the deep plush gray carpet of the fiftieth floor waiting area. This one was a blonde, red lipped and gray eyed. What was left of self-worth withered a bit more when she gave me a once-over that made my skin crawl. “Are you the ten o’clock?”

I comforted myself with the knowledge that these women almost certainly weren’t here for their brain power—though, in the end, what the heck did I know? “Yes, I am.” Somehow, my voice echoed through the space. It seemed like the only occupant of the fiftieth floor was Wolfe himself; which meant that, aside from the receptionist’s desk, all that decorated the waiting area were a few expensive-looking chairs, an espresso machine, and the expansive view.

And it was expansive. When the blonde told me to take a seat, I wandered over to the row of floor to ceiling windows to marvel at the whole of New York laid out below me. I could see everything from the Freedom Tower to Rockefeller Plaza nearly seventy blocks in the other direction. On the opposite side, the Hudson River was laid out like a glittering seam that divided the sky and city.

Perhaps money couldn’t buy everything, but it could certainly get you one hell of a view.

I was still admiring it when the receptionist told me Wolfe was ready to receive me—and my wonder curdled to trepidation in my stomach.

My feet, rather than my will, carried me toward the only door on the floor and when I raised my hand to knock, I found myself praying that I wasn’t walking in on one of the man’s sordid affairs right then and there. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been caught in his office with a woman. I didn’t particularly want to be involved with people who sucked up gossip like so many vampires, so I merely crossed my fingers and knocked.

“Come in.”

When I opened the door, it was immediately apparent that Wolfe was alone. I’d gotten lucky, but in the next second, I was wondering if lucky was really the right word for the situation I was in. It was one thing to see the man on magazine covers and TV specials with many layers of departure to shield you from his raw allure. In person, there were no such barriers. Despite the fact that I had never given the man more attention than a passing glance up until that moment, I found myself staring.

Pictures and TV didn’t really do him justice.

Ares stood before the immense windows, reading from a thick sheaf of papers silently. He cut quite the imposing figure—close to six and a half feet tall with his dark hair slicked back from a wide brow. His face, so immediately recognizable, made my stomach tighten as the spicy scent of his cologne wafted over me. High cheekbones and a long, aquiline nose were set in a face that was equal parts angular and rugged. A few days stubble looked amazing on his trim jaw and that mouth... no man should be allowed to have a mouth that full.

As I watched him thumb through the pages of his document, a strange heat ignited in my lower belly. He was all but poured into his suit. The designer cotton hugged him from broad shoulders to trim waist; and the shoes he wore had to cost upwards of a thousand dollars. The man was opulence incarnate, for that alone, I should have been skittish.

But my nervousness came from another avenue entirely.

“Ava Parker?” His low tenor carried across the length of the office, making me jump as he finally raised his gaze to mine.

Dear Lord his eyes were the color of slate. Just being in the same room with him was enough to make me fight the urge to squirm—a fact I knew couldn’t bode well for a potential business relationship.

“Y-yes. That’s me.”  His gaze lingered on me long enough to make my cheeks flush before I forced myself to cross the office to him. “Pleasure to meet you.” I extended my hand in a gesture born of habit and impeccable manners but when he took it, my synapses misfired. I came inches from jerking backward reflexively.

Touching Ares Wolfe was like being burned—the feeling was somehow as visceral as it was physical. Intimate when it shouldn’t be. I tugged my hand away the moment I could, doing my best to swallow my nerves. “The pleasure is mine,” he replied mildly, setting his paperwork aside. “After all, you are supposed to be saving my image.”

The fact seemed to amuse him if the upward quirking of his lips was any indication.

I felt my cheeks flush. “Well, yes. Your major stockholders have indicated they might like a few... changes made.” Half of me expected the man to toss me out without a second thought. According to tabloids and entertainment shows, a lot of needless fighting was propagated by those who assumed Ares wanted something he wasn’t interested in. For a moment, I cursed Sandy for sending me to a man that had as much a chance of making my career as ruining it.

But, to my surprise, Wolfe didn’t drum me out of his office to be tarred and feathered by the media. Instead, he merely gestured to one of two plush leather armchairs before his desk. “Please, sit.”

I sat, noting with no small amount of embarrassment, that my new position put me face to face with the man’s not-inconsiderable package. How many women, I wondered, found themselves in my exact position for entirely different reasons?

The notion made me flush and I suddenly found my scuffed flats very interesting as that strange heat flared again. This time, it didn’t dissipate. Instead, it settled somewhere between my belly button and the most intimate part of me and throbbed dully.

“Coffee, Ms. Parker?”

The question was like a godsend. Anything to get him, his cologne and that ridiculous body of his away from my person for long enough to get in a decent breath.

“Please.”

There was another espresso machine in his office. Of course, Wolfe would have his own espresso machine, and I thanked God for the reprieve it gave me. On the flip side of things, when I relaxed enough to watch him make said espresso, it occurred to me that I would never have thought Ares Wolfe the type to make his own coffee.

Then again, I had also underestimated just how powerfully my body would react when faced with him; but, let’s face it, I wasn’t exactly the most experienced on the block when it came to raw sexual allure.

“Sugar?” I jumped, jerking my gaze upwards from Ares’ behind. I had never particularly considered a man’s butt before, but Ares had a very fine one.

“Yes!” I answered quickly, glad he hadn’t caught me ogling. “Three please.”

He arched a brow but didn’t question me further, merely adding the sugar before handing me a tiny, posh cup that probably cost more than I made in a week. “I’ve heard you’re very good at what you do, Miss Parker.” Ares rounded his desk to take a seat with his own coffee. He was a veritable king on his throne and I cleared my throat as another wave of heat suffused me. Was this how power affected women?

Instead of giving into the sensation, I cleared my throat to speak. Sandy had gotten me here but now I was going to have to sell myself. “I have the benefit of having worked with several clients in your line of work, Mr. Wolfe. And I can additionally promise you anonymity. I don’t usually take high-profile clients but my colleague convinced me to make an exception in this case.”

This, Sandy told me, sounded a lot better than the truth. If I wanted this contract, I had to make Ares believe he needed me. No mean feat for the man who had everything.

“And, in your opinion, what needs to be done with my image?”

It was hard to believe that the man before me, sipping primly at his coffee, was the same playboy that was plastered across the covers of worldwide gossip rags. That he’d been kicked out of as many hotel suites as he’d kicked women out of, and that his parties were legendary. No, the man sitting before me was impeccable, in both form and manners. He could have been snide, crass, or rude, but he was none of those things. And most surprising of all, it seemed as if he was genuinely interested in my game plan.

“Well,” I took a sip of my espresso, surprised at how good it was. I wasn’t usually a coffee drinker. Maybe I just had expensive tastes. “I think what they’re most concerned about are certain... behavioral patterns.” Just because I was out to convince the man that he needed me didn’t mean I wasn’t going to approach the matter delicately.

“Such as?” I couldn’t tell if he was baiting me or he genuinely didn’t know that getting caught out on a public balcony with a supermodel was a social faux pas.

“Well, there’s a lot of partying, excessive spending, binging on certain... vices.” Most of those vices being women. “I plan to mitigate past... transgressions by focusing on your charitable possibilities.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

It was going surprisingly well. Far better than I expected, honestly. I proceeded to outline an eight-point plan I had already discussed with Sandy. Over the course of a year, I would help Ares to minimize particularly incriminating instances in his past and propose events and appearances that would help him to cultivate a new image. Wholesome, modest and magnanimous. It was foolproof—especially considering how hard his investors were pushing for the change.

Ares continued to mind his Ps and Qs. He listened to everything I had to say, nodded in understanding and asked questions in all the right places. For all his apparent humility, he might have been a customer I handpicked rather than one forced on me. Ultimately, only one question remained: If the man was going to be this cooperative, did I really have anything to worry about?

“It sounds like you have everything in order.” When I was finished with my little presentation, Ares looked over some of the documents I’d handed him. “I’d say all that’s left to do is sign the papers.”

“Papers?” I arched a brow in confusion. “What papers?”

Usually, the company negotiated my salary and I signed paperwork only after my payment and their cut had been decided. I’d never dealt with a client so huge that the middleman was cut out entirely.

“Your contract.” He drummed his fingers on his desk thoughtfully for a moment before his gaze met mine once more.

Goddamn, those eyes. The man hadn’t said or done anything inappropriate at all and I still fought the urge to squirm beneath his piercing gaze. If he looked at women like that with their clothes on, God help anyone who crossed his path naked.

“You’ve already drawn up a contract?” I redirected my thoughts to the matter at hand.

“Not yet, but it’s a simple thing. I name my terms and you decide whether or not you feel they’re acceptable.”

Was this the part where he proved his true nature and tried to low-ball me? I’d tried to prepare for every situation I could imagine but quickly found that, with Ares Wolfe, such a thing was impossible.

“All right then.” I smiled sweetly, ready to play hardball. “What are your terms, then?”

Ares folded his fingers together atop his desk, his gaze still riveted on me. “One year, exclusive working relationship, one million dollars to start.”

I did my utmost best not to fall out of my chair.

One million dollars?

For a few seconds, I was pretty sure I hadn’t heard him right. One million dollars was more money than I had ever seen in my entire life. It would be more than enough to buy my townhouse outright—and then some. I’d be set for the year, without question.

And being faced with all that so suddenly made my heart stutter in my chest.

Of course, there were other ramifications. Exclusivity meant I would have to cancel my contracts with other clients to work with Ares and Ares alone. Judging from his behavior so far, however, that didn’t seem to be too hard a pill to swallow. And the payout would be more than worth it.

“I... well…” I wanted to tell him I’d think about it. That was the careful thing to do—the right way to go about it. You never said yes on a first meeting. But, I had to admit, Ares was tempting me. This deal could be everything I needed and wanted in a publicity job. Besides the paycheck, there was my reputation to consider. If I could be the publicist who cleaned up Ares Wolfe’s act, that alone would skyrocket me to the pinnacle of stardom. Every door would be opened for me... and maybe I could finally get my family off my back.

For all my inherent level-headedness, I couldn’t possibly resist such temptation. “How soon can you have the contract drawn up?”

I thought I would regret the words the moment they left my mouth, but, somehow, I didn’t. This would be good for me. Wolfe would be good for me. I’d needed a change in my life for a long time and, if this was it, I might as well reach out and take what’s mine.

“I can have the paperwork sent to your office tomorrow for your perusal. Does that work for you?” Was it just me, or did he seem as pleased as I was?

“That sounds perfect.” I rose from my chair, extending my hand over the desk to seal the deal. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Wolfe.” As he took my hand with a genuine smile, I contemplated, for a moment, that everyone had it all wrong. This man could be reasoned with. He wasn’t the monster everyone thought he was. I could reason with him.

I had never expected our meeting to go so well.

He came around his desk to address me directly, and I found I was smiling unabashedly. “I’ll have a courier come to your office with the papers tomorrow afternoon. Will you be in around one?”

“Right after lunch,” I said. I hadn’t felt this good in a long, long time. 

“Wonderful.”

I was already plotting how I was going to celebrate with Sandy. I could just imagine the shocked, prideful look on her face when I shared the news. “When do you think we’ll have time to talk about implementing the first stages of your master plan?”

I turned to answer him, only to have the words die in my throat. Ares was close. When on earth had he gotten so close? I found myself inhaling sharply as I took a few steps backward—and then my spine came into contact with the smooth wood of the door.

There was no more leeway.

For the past forty minutes or so, I had no problem getting over the man’s physical appearance—at least, that’s what I told myself. Now that he was literally three inches away from me, smelling of heaven and pinning me in place with those slate-colored eyes of his, my body recalled the heat my mind had pushed aside.

I pressed my thighs together instinctively, swallowing thickly as my temperature rose. Jesus Christ, it was enough to make any woman in her right mind squirm—and I only just managed to avoid being so obvious. “Mr. Wolfe…” I managed, my voice slightly unsteady. “I don’t think—”

“Call me Ares.” When the hell had his demeanor changed so drastically? The man had gone from all smiles and manners to a low, husky tone accompanied by a smirk that was far too knowing for his own good. “We are going to be working together, after all.”

“Mister Wolfe,” I emphasized, oddly breathless at his nearness. “What are you doing?”

“Sealing the deal.” He replied lowly, drawing even closer to me. When his hand sifted through the stray blonde strands of my updo, I inhaled sharply, a shudder traveling down my spine. Though I certainly hadn’t given him any leave to do so, he loosened the band he found, my hair tumbled over my shoulders towards my waist. “You, Ava Parker, are hiding a great deal, aren’t you?”

The hunger in his gaze stole whatever words might have been on the tip of my tongue. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Ares chuckled, the low sound thrumming through me so my toes curled. “You’re very professional, you know. Analytical. Proper. And that suit is precious.” He plucked at the worn cotton of my pantsuit, making my face flame. “You like fading into the background.”

Well, I certainly couldn’t deny that. I had never liked being the center of attention. That was more Sandy’s gig—more anyone in the office except me. “When it’s convenient,” I finally replied, as diplomatically as I could. This was no small feat considering I could all but feel the heat of his body against mine.

“All the time,” he returned knowingly, that small, confident quirk of his lips maddening. “I wonder what would happen if I stripped away that shy outer shell to get a look at what’s underneath?” He tugged at the shoulder of my suit jacket and the damn thing gave. It was the first time I’d ever regretted wearing something too big for me. The pale, sun-deprived skin of my shoulder was revealed, interrupted by only the dark, lacy strap of my black bra.

Ares homed in on the tiny scrap of lingerie like a goddamned heat-seeking missile. “And what have we here? Another secret.”

When his head lowered to brush his lips across my bare shoulder, my breath caught in my throat as scalding heat blossomed through my system. It seared through me, leaving nerve endings I didn’t even know I had raw and aching, my lips slightly parted in shock. No. No, I didn’t want this. This was the deal that was supposed to save my career—the cure-all that would put me on the map as a publicist. I couldn’t afford to let this man take advantage of me, no matter how many women had already fallen victim to his charms. Granted, I could now see exactly why said women had gone so willingly into his bed.

“There’s a regular little vixen beneath all this.” His hand skimmed over the loose cotton of my suit as his gaze rose to meet mine once more. “A vixen with the face of an angel.”

My traitorous heart stuttered in my chest. I knew well enough that the only thing this man wanted was my body—that he was going out of his way to ensure that our business arrangement would have certain physical aspects. Aspects that I certainly hadn’t factored in. I should have shoved him away. A braver me might have kneed him in the nuts he was so obviously proud of. Instead, however, I merely stared into that heated gaze of his, struggling to breathe as he lowered his mouth towards mine.

Though there was a large part of me that knew just how wrong this was that was angry at how Wolfe had obviously fooled me, there was another part, even larger, perhaps, that wanted him to kiss me. That soft, teasing mouth tempted me more than anything had in a very, very long time. I needed to see if he tasted just as flagrantly of coffee as I did—if that hunger of his translated from his eyes to the way his mouth sought mine.

Just then, a knock came against my back, brisk and businesslike.

“Mr. Wolfe?”

I jumped, straightening almost immediately. Unfortunately, the motion sent me straight into Wolfe, who held me almost possessively against his chest.

“What is it, Margaret?” The man’s clearly displeased tone answered her while I tried not to lose my head completely at his nearness. He smelled entirely too good, and I was pretty certain the man didn’t have an ounce of fat on him beneath that tailored suit. He was even more dangerous than I might have imagined.

“Your next appointment has arrived. He’s on his way upstairs.”

Ares sighed, long and exasperated. “Very well, Margaret. Have him sent in when he arrives.”

It took every ounce of willpower that I possessed, but I managed to work my way out of the man’s powerful embrace. I was grateful that the receptionist hadn’t actually tried to come in. I knew how this must look. My hair disheveled, suit hanging halfway off my shoulder, face flushed. It probably wouldn’t be the first time she had walked in on Ares plying his charms.

“I... I’ll be going then.” I straightened my jacket quickly before sweeping my hair into a haphazard ponytail.

“Of course.” Ares slid his hands into his pockets as if they hadn’t just been roaming my body in bold exploration. That knowing smirk of his, however, remained firmly in place. “I’ll be seeing you, Miss Parker.”

I don’t think I’ve ever fled so fast in my life. I all but tore out of the man’s office, passing his next appointment as I sped into the elevator.

My heart didn’t stop pounding until I was safely outside the Wolfe building, a good two and a half blocks away. Once I made it that far, I paused on the corner, forcing myself to take a deep breath.

Shit. Shit.

Try as I might, I couldn’t think of a proper word for the situation I found myself in. My excitement turned to ash in my mouth—my anticipation to trepidation. Ares Wolfe was, without a doubt, just as dangerous as everyone said he was. More so, perhaps.

I’d let his little put-on lull me into a sense of false security, and in that moment, I began to realize what I’d truly done. I might as well have sold my soul to the devil.

Dear God. I stepped into the shade of a nearby building to draw a hand over my face in self-reprimand. What was I doing? I wasn’t Sandy. How the hell was I supposed to make this man toe the line when I could still feel his lips on my shoulder? When I was still imagining what his kiss might feel like.

No.

I shook my head to clear it, straightening my spine.

None of that mattered now. I hadn’t actually let the man kiss me, thank God, and I needed this more than I feared what might happen. Sandy was right. I was good at my job. I just needed to show Ares how good.

It was supposed to be my job to clean up his image and that was just what I would do. I’d show the man that far from falling victim to his charms, I’d drum them out of him. I refused to let myself be walked all over—not when I’d finally been given my opportunity to shine. Ares Wolfe might be one of the world’s leading real-estate moguls, but he hadn’t yet dealt with me at my best.

He had no idea what was coming.