The thought of this man looking me up made my stomach clench. It terrified me…but that wasn’t all it did. I wondered if he’d glared at his screen the way he’d glared when I’d stood before him. Or maybe he’d been emotionless, extracting every detail from my online presence like a surgeon hunting for cancerous tumor cells.
I shifted in my seat then froze, conscious that he was listening to my every move. When I spoke, my voice was stilted. “If money is no object, I can get you on a private jet in two hours. Local time in Tokyo will be five-forty a.m. on Wednesday when you land. You lose a day crossing the date line. Will you need a chauffeur on either end of the journey?”
“Please,” he replied.
“Where should they pick you up?”
He gave me an address in Tribeca.
“The car will pick you up in forty minutes. Safe travels, Mr. Frost.”
“I think we’ve graduated to first-name basis by now, don’t you think, Deena?”
The sound of my name on his tongue made my stomach clench. Heat flowed down my thighs, and I tossed my laptop aside so I could squeeze my legs together.
“Call me Cal.”
I would do no such thing. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Frost,” I replied, voice snapping on his name. “I’ll send through my invoice in the morning. Good night.”
I hung up the phone before he could answer, then tossed it across the room toward the small two-seater sofa on the opposite side of my studio. The device bounced on my faux fur throw cushion, landed on the floor, then skittered under my tiny dining table. I clenched the sheets, pulled my legs up, and pressed my forehead into my knees.
I was jittery and keyed up. My limbs were restless, and the sound of Callum Frost’s voice still echoed in my ears. His dark, low chuckle. The way he said my name. How it felt to know he was listening to my every move.
I should’ve hated it, but my heart was stuttering and I couldn’t catch my breath.
I was turned the hell on.
I would never speak to him again. I couldn’t go anywhere near him. It was dangerous to my health. He was everything I’d run away from—the domineering, controlling man who thought he could twist me into knots for his own amusement. I’d clawed my way out of my old life and built my business in order to gain whatever freedom I could. Iwantedfreedom. I wanted independence and security and the ability to live my own life the way I chose.
But I also wanted him. I wanted all that energy and intensity on top of me. I wanted him to chuckle in my ear, wanted those big hands on my body while I writhed and begged. I wanted him to tell me to drop to my knees and watch him come undone when I did, and I wanted him to say dark and dirty words while he entered me.
I was such a fucking mess—but I couldn’t resist temptation. My hand slid under my pajama pants, into my panties, where I was already wet and needy. My eyelids fluttered shut, and all I saw was Callum’s face.
This moment would go with me to my grave. No one had to know—especially not him. If he ever found out just how quickly the thought of him made my back arch and a whimper escape my lips, I would never, ever live it down.
FOUR
DEENA
In the firstweek of February, I was called back to the glass tower that housed Frost’s firm for yet another last-minute travel emergency. Three people had to make it to New York within the next twenty-four hours to close some big important business deal, and they were coming from three separate continents. I exited the elevator and immediately sensed the frantic energy on the floor. A woman in a pencil skirt tottered on high heels, pages fluttering in her hands as she made her way toward the corner office. The reception desk was empty. A middle-management-type man yelled at a younger man, both of them frowning at a computer screen in a nearby conference room. The clever people in the office clattered on their keyboards and made themselves look busy.
I helped myself to a mint from the bowl on the reception desk as I skirted around it and followed the sound of many humming voices toward Callum Frost’s office.
Today, I wore wide-legged pants of forest green paired with a black turtleneck. My wool trench coat flapped around my knees, and my favorite tote bag hung from my shoulder. I’d worn gold-plated filigree earrings that dangled almost to my shoulders, a luxury I shouldn’t have bought but couldn’t resist. Pretty armor that would protect me better than the boring suit. I spun one of my rings with my thumb, the movement hidden against my palm, the only indulgence I allowed myself to release some of the pent-up energy that had circled inside me as soon as I got the call to come and help.
January was typically a slow month for me after the franticness leading up to the holidays, and I’d had to tighten up my spending to make it through. This job would give me a few weeks of breathing room, which was the only reason I’d agreed to take it.
At least, that was what I told myself. I couldn’t deny the jump in my pulse that had occurred when I’d seen “Frost Venture Capital” in my email inbox.
Most of the voices came from desks outside Callum’s office, and a few heads popped up to see me walk by. I ignored them all, noting the empty desk that used to have Miranda’s name on it. It was clear of the papers and detritus of an active workstation, which meant he hadn’t found a replacement assistant yet—no great surprise. I knew he was a bear to work for, and I didn’t even work for him.
I found Callum with his large hands flat on his desk, his dark head bent over an array of pages. The woman in the pencil skirt hovered nearby, a laptop balanced on one palm while her other hand danced over the trackpad. “I’ve organized a car to get you to the meeting this afternoon?—”
“Send me the details. I’ll check them before you put them in my calendar.”
“Still suffering from terminal micromanagement syndrome, huh,” I said from the doorway, wanting to catch him off-balance. I’d forgotten the power of his stare, though, and the moment his head snapped up and that icy, intense gaze landed on my face, itwas me who wobbled. I leaned against the doorjamb to hide it and gave him a humorless smile. “I’m here to save the day again.”
The woman brushed past me, evidently seeing my arrival as the perfect excuse to leave the lion’s den.
