CHAPTER THREE
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GIA
Asshole! I rode down the elevator with my arms crossed and mind whirling. What had just happened? Mr. Crane had invited me up to his penthouse to—what? To rub it in my face that he had a reason to fire Monica?
And what was that warning about there at the end? He wasn’t threatening me, was he? Because, damn, he wasn’t doing himself any favors. Isaac Crane already looked dangerous enough without that. Dark hair, a chiseled jaw, strong nose. Lips that were firm, most of the time stretched into a line that said he didn’t take shit from anyone.
But even with that, I’d barely been able to stay still when he’d sat next to me. He’d smelled like the woods and every part of him radiated sex. But he also looked just like the rumors said. That he didn’t leave the hotel. That he only cared about himself. But, God, it turned me on. In that small corner, way back in my mind, I found him sexy enough to dream about. To get myself off to the memory of his strong hands, the cocky arch of his brow...
Those penetrating eyes. His lips forming two words in the darkness. Ms. Tanner…
I swallowed back a moan and looked over at the security guard. “I didn’t know Monica was stealing.”
“It happens.”
I tried again. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have made you take that message to Mr. Crane.”
He glanced over. “It all worked out in the end, right?”
“Yes. I—it did. Thanks, Mr.—”
“Logan.” He stood to the side to let me out when the elevator dinged. “You can call me Logan.”
“Right. Thank you.”
“I’ll make sure you get back to the store.”
I shook my head and started walking. “I’ll be fine.”
“Mr. Crane would insist.”
I shut my mouth and let him walk me back to the store. Mr. Crane would insist? What did he think? I was going to get mugged on the way? Maybe get hurt rescuing more old ladies from the perils of purse dropping?
Once I was in the store and Logan had vanished, I leaned against the wall and blew out a breath. Work. That’s what I needed to focus on. I hadn’t lost my job, which meant I needed to do what I could to keep my job. I’d already stuck my foot in my mouth. It didn’t need to happen again.
When I got home from work that night, it felt like I’d been gone for days instead of hours. I dropped my purse on the kitchen table and swiveled to the refrigerator. Yeah, my place wasn’t much—literally. The entire thing could probably fit into Mr. Crane’s foyer. But it was enough for me. For now.
And ugh…why was I thinking about Mr. Crane? Isaac?
Because of those tortured eyes. Because his hands and arms looked strong enough to lift me without any effort.
“Wine,” I murmured, pouring myself a glass instead of the water I planned on having.
I took it to my bedroom, my pussy throbbing. Hell, who was I kidding? Isaac Crane was hot. So damned sexy if I didn’t have dreams about him for the rest of the week, I’d wonder if I was even alive.
I slid out of my skirt and lay back on the bed to rest my feet. I couldn’t help myself. I’d been thinking about the man all day, squeezing my thighs together to stop the ache between my legs. But it hadn’t given me any relief.
After another sip of wine, I pulled off my panties and spread my legs slightly. Damn Isaac Crane. He’d managed to shock me and get me all worked up in a matter of minutes.
I was already wet, leaking onto the bed because of him. I worked my finger around my clit, back arching. I gave a low moan and pictured the man, sans suit and dress shirt, crawling his way up the bed. Lowering his head between my legs and—
The sound of a knock at the door made me gasp. I jerked to an upright position.
“Shit.” With another grumble, I yanked on my skirt, leaving my panties behind, and stomped to the front door.
I yanked it open and angled my head when I saw a delivery man with a box. Not just a box, a present? It was black, tied with a red bow. Simple. Mysterious.
“Ms. Tanner?” the man asked.
I nodded and accepted the package. “Thanks.”
There wasn’t a card, so I undid the bow and took off the top of the box. Inside, amidst a pile of tissue paper, was another box. An alarm clock.
It was top of the line, one that probably cost more than my cab fare for the entire week.
My lips parted. “What the…?”
And if I had any doubt who it was from, there was a short card with his slanted handwriting.
Set this before you go to bed. It should work. –Isaac Crane
I choked on a laugh. Seriously? If I wasn’t so confused by his behavior this morning, I would have found it funny. I pulled the alarm clock out and brought it to my room.
Damn it. Was the man trying to flirt with me or just making sure his employees were happy? He sure as hell wasn’t making any sense to me.
I got the alarm clock set up and sipped my wine again. Fine. He made his point. Be on time. People are all bad. Blah, blah, blah…
But it did make me curious. What made Isaac Crane the way he was? Why did we have to meet in his suite instead of down in the store where it made sense? Or at the very least in a neutral spot?
And why, when I felt like screaming at him did I also want him to fuck me until I couldn’t stand anymore?
<<<>>>
ISAAC
It still happened once in a while. I’d wake up with my hands shaking, sweat on my brow, heart racing so fast I thought I might pass out.
I’d see their eyes in the darkness, hear the horrible laughter. But this morning, when I shot out of bed at the crack of dawn, I said the wrong name when I shouted out.
It wasn’t my dead fiancées name that slipped from my lips. It was Gia’s.
I nearly summoned Logan up here to tell him to head straight to her apartment to make sure she was okay.
But then my heart rate slowed and a hint of rationality showed up, and I was able to calm down. I worked out. Hard. Enough to have my heart racing again. Enough to chase away the lingering fear.
After a shower and an omelet, Logan appeared in the foyer. By then, I already had a plan.
“Did you get the information?” I asked.
He passed over a folder and I sat at the island in the kitchen and shuffled through it. There were pictures of Gia, documents, social media links, and so on. I picked up a printed page of photographs.
“What’s this?”
“She posts these on social media, sir. She’s a photographer—or aspiring to be one.”
They were good. Better than good. Art. And they gave me another idea. Another excuse to see her again.
Probably the better excuse. After all, admitting to her I needed her to model for a painting wasn’t going to make the best first—or second—impression. I’d need to build up to it.
“Please escort Ms. Tanner up here once she arrives at work.”
“Yes, sir.”
I glanced up before he could leave. “How’s Elise doing?”
“Not bad. She says you owe her, though.”
“Mmm hmm…That’s all Logan.”
Logan entered the elevator, then vanished. Elise was right. I did owe her. Bringing her in to man the store at the last minute had meant she had to take a break from her own job. And, unfortunately, she was going to have to be doing it a bit longer because I needed Gia up here with me.
I’d call her later. Or send her a basket filled with her favorite wine and cheese.
I walked to the bedroom to search for clothes. I dressed in slacks and a cashmere sweater, choosing comfort and style over something more professional.
On the counter in the bathroom were the anxiety meds the psychiatrist had prescribed me. I’d almost taken one this morning. Or two. Damn, the nightmares were the worst part. I could function throughout the day. But when the night came…
I heard the ding of the elevator and shoved the meds in the cabinet before walking from the room.
The sight of Gia, looking as confused as ever, actually calmed me. How did she do that? Maybe because she was so nervous, and I was in control. It helped me focus on making the situation better for her instead of thinking about how fucked up I was.
“Thank you, Logan,” I said. “This might take a while.”
Gia’s eyes widened but she didn’t say anything as Logan stepped in the elevator again.
“Ms. Tanner,” I said.
“I wasn’t late.” She gave me a pointed look. “New alarm clock and all.”
I almost smirked, but instead only nodded. So she’d gotten it. It wasn’t exactly a gift, more a way to insure she made it to work on time. But it was the first thing I’d given any woman—besides Elise—in the last three years.
“Thank you,” she said. “It works really well.”
“Glad to hear it. Would you like something to drink?”
She blinked, glancing to the kitchen, looking like she’d expected something else. “I…orange juice?”
This time, I couldn’t help the smile. “Strange request, but I can handle that.”
“I forgot breakfast,” she mumbled, still standing at the elevator.
“Sit.” I gestured to the counter. “I’ll order something.”
“You don’t—”
She broke off when I pulled out my phone and barked out an order to the kitchen staff. “And make it quick,” I added.
I ended the call and walked to her, taking in the soft blue sweater she wore today. The pinstriped pants that were still hiding her curves. I’d have to talk to her about that. But now…
“I have a deal for you,” I said.
She angled her head. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a job, actually.”
“I already have a job.”
“Trust me, you’re going to want to hear this.”