Chapter 5

Elsa

Something in my gut immediately tells me the next few weeks are going to be pure hell.

I move my mouse to wake my laptop from its slumber. It seems like even on my days off, I find myself sitting behind a computer involved in something work-related.

That’s why I insisted on my home office being as luxurious as my one at work. From the crystal chandelier to the plush rug under my feet, this space gets my creative juices flowing.

Business. I’m comfortable in business. Next to the runway, business is like my second home.

So that’s what I tell myself. Things with Tanner? Just business, pure and simple.

We fucked up. Now, we have to fix it—for our shareholders and our employees—for the bottom line at the end of every month.

Hopefully, I won’t have to pretend to be engaged to that man whore for longer than that. But knowing my luck, I could be stuck with him for good.

And being stuck with Tanner—that’s what scares me.

Not because I find him quite as intolerable as my press releases suggest, but because I know that the longer I’m around him, the harder this gets.

Seeing how fucking good Tanner still looks—always looks, damn him—gets my juices flowing, and not the just ones concerned with stock prices and profit margins. Before all this, I was able to keep my emotions in check. But spending so much time with him, it’s going to be hard to not fall for his charming line of bullshit all over again.

I shake my head in a futile effort to get him out of my every thought, every cell of my being. Instead, I try to distract myself with the latest news on the fallout from the fashion show.

Article after article detail the events without adding anything new, just idle gossip and chatter. A few small pieces on my falling stock prices. Tanner’s stocks are falling, too.

I’m about to switch over to my email when I see an article from Lis Langley. I usually like to read her pieces—when I’m not the subject, of course. She knows her stuff, and she’s sharp.

Too bad she’s writing for that shitty gossip rag that tries to pass itself off as a respectable business paper.

My eye catches the picture of Tanner accompanying the Lis Langley article. Fuck, he’s good-looking. I think back to being in his office and how close I came to surrendering and just falling into his arms.

He’s right; that part did work for us. It was everything else that was fucked up.

And I see no reason to think it would be any different this time around.

I just have to remind myself of that—when I’m standing close enough to him and feel the heat emanating from his body.

It bothers me how much I liked it when he slammed me against the window in his office. Take-charge Tanner is quite the turn on.

I’m remembering all the times in the past when Tanner turned me on, all the nights spent in his bed, my bed, his penthouse roof, and so many other places.

My email window springs to life, jolting me back to grim reality. Unread messages: two hundred sixty-seven.

Shit.

I scroll past the messages from my shareholders—plenty of time later to have my ass handed to me by old white men. I flag a few emails for follow-up and forward even more to my assistant, so she can do the heavy lifting on them.

There’s more than a couple of dozen messages from the press clamoring for an interview. Sure enough, I see Lis’ name as I scroll past it.

Lis is overqualified to work at The Chronicle. I think that every time I read her stuff. She’s fucking wasted on them.

But pitying her work situation isn’t enough for me to grant her an interview, or to any of the reporters crowding my inbox.

Minimizing my email window brings me back face to face with Tanner, who’s staring at me from the website of The Capitalist Chronicle. Damn if I don’t want him. Right here, right now.

But wanting him and liking him are not the same thing. In my case, where Tanner’s concerned, at least, they’re polar opposites.

I pick up the bottle sitting to my left to pour another much-needed glass of rosé, but nothing comes out. Given the turn my life has taken the past few days, it’s no surprise that I’ve managed to finish a bottle of wine.

In the middle of the day.

And I’m going in for seconds.

I haul myself to the kitchen, and as I grab another bottle from the wine cooler, I notice the imported chocolates that Monique sent to me just hours ago.

That assistant of mine needs a raise. No, multiple raises.

She knows just how to raise my spirits. Decadent dark chocolate truffles are a good start. But add it to my rosé, the strawberries I have in the fridge, and a few other goodies waiting for me by the tub, and I have the makings of a spirit-boosting bubble bath to die for.

I open the fridge and reach for the strawberries to add to the pile of sustenance I’m gathering on the counter. The can of whipped cream sitting beside the fruits takes me back to a certain Hamptons weekend getaway and the creative ways Tanner found to use whipped cream.

If I let myself, I could find connections with Tanner everywhere I look. Immediately after we ended, that’s all I did.

And it drove me crazy. I can’t let myself get emotionally attached like that again.

If I was in complete control of my life, the solution to my dilemma would be easy. I would avoid Tanner at all costs. However, his little stunt at the fashion show squashed that option.

Now, I have the board’s ultimatum hanging over my head like a black cloud, ready to pour down on me at any moment.

I have no choice.

For the foreseeable future, Tanner and I are going to be in each other’s orbit. Going on dates, kissing...and more?

I slam the fridge closed and fill my arms with the supplies I’ve gathered on the kitchen counter. I know when I’ve reached my limit to how much I can stress over a situation I can’t change. And I’ve reached it.

As I walk down the hall, I refuse to look into my office. The time for work has passed. The time for wallowing in my shitty situation starts right now.

I gently drop the loot that’s in my arms onto the small wood table beside my tub. Scratch that—my fucking huge tub.

This luxurious jetted tub was what sold me to this place. It’s melted all my stress away more times than I can count. And I’m counting on it doing the same thing today.

While the tub fills up with steaming water, I add in a yummy-smelling lavender bubble bath—the really expensive shit that has tons of bubbles. I throw in some bath salts for good measure.

With the candles lit, soft music playing and the lights dimmed, I start to peel off my clothes. As the fabric falls from my body, it’s way too easy to imagine it’s Tanner that’s disrobing me. I stroke my arms, my abs, all while imagining they’re Tanner’s hands caressing me.

I feel my pussy start to come alive. Even just imagining Tanner’s hands on me gets me revved up.

No, Elsa. Keep those thoughts out of your head.

It’s time I started looking at this as a pure business arrangement. I can’t let emotions cloud my judgment.

Not this time. Not again.

Settling into the steaming water, I grab my cell phone off the table. Time to bite the bullet and get it over with.

I scroll through the contacts looking for Tanner and finally find him, under ‘Jackass.’

With a little chuckle, I hit the call button.

Within one ring, his velvety voice is in my ear. I was not prepared for that.

“Hey, Elsa,” he practically croons into my ear. “Are you there?”

“Mmm...I mean, yes, I’m here,” I say, recovering my senses. “I was thinking that the sooner we get this charade started, the sooner we can get it over with.”

“What about dinner tomorrow night? Is that soon enough for you?”

“That will work,” I say. “I have a late staff meeting, so I’ll have to meet you there. Say around 7:30?”

“It’s a date. I’ll take care of all the details and forward them on to Monique. I’m good with the hands-on work,” he teases. “You remember, right?”

Before I can stop myself, I answer back, “I do, in fact, remember how good you were with your hands. I was just thinking about your han...”

Have I lost my mind completely?

“Really? You think about my hands, huh? Maybe I should come over there right now. I’d hate to deprive you of these instruments of pleasure after all.”

“Try to keep your ego in check,” I say with a scoff. “If you would have let me finish, I was about to say how rough and dry your hands looked. Have you never heard of a manicure?”

Smooth recovery.

“Okay, angel. I’ll let you think I believe you. See you tomorrow night.”

“What did I say about calling me ang—?”

And he’s already hung up. Perfect.

I don’t know which is worse: that stupid nickname being resurrected or the danger of starting a fake romance with Tanner.

That’s not true. It’s no contest.

I’m definitely taking a risk getting close to Tanner all over again, let alone pretending to be engaged to him. But I’m not about to let all of my hard work starting Dirty Little Angel and building it up to the success that it is just to let it fail because I don’t have the balls to go on a few dates with that jackass.

That sexy jackass.

A jackass with the velvety voice and magic hands.

I’m going to need a giant boost of confidence to stand up to his charms. And nothing gives me confidence like a good orgasm.

As I slip my hand under the water, I let myself imagine it’s not my hand stroking my pussy but a certain dark-haired, broad-shouldered, gray-eyed Adonis who could turn out to be my biggest weakness.