CEO's Expectant Secretary(35)

She gently rubbed his shoulder muscles with her thumb and forefinger. “Good?” she asked.

He groaned in response.

She continued to knead his shoulders as she brushed her mouth against his ear. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” he said. “Too good. I want more,” he continued. “I want to feel you every way I can. Inside and out,” he said and turned around to meet her gaze. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“You haven’t finished your sandwich,” she said.

“I’m hungry for something else.”



The next evening, Brock asked her to meet him at the Prentices’ home, since he was running late. Elle dressed carefully, eager to convey just the right tone as Brock’s wife. After all, this was their first major public outing together. Fighting butterflies, she exited the car and climbed the steps to the Prentices’ mansion.

With marble columns, a valet in the driveway and a man greeting guests in black tie at the door, the major clothing manufacturer’s property oozed success, as it should.

“Good evening,” the man at the door said. “Your name?”

“Elle Linton,” she said, then corrected herself. “Elle Linton Maddox.”

His gaze flicked over her in assessment and he nodded. “Welcome,” he said and opened the door for her to enter.

Elle was immediately hit with the sights and sounds of an opulent party. The scents of gourmet food and wine filled the air. She heard a string quartet and smelled fresh-cut roses. Mirrors reflected guests dressed in couture fashions. She hoped the black gown with dark embroidered rosettes just below the bodice would pass muster. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and searched for Brock. She’d waited a few extra minutes to leave, not wanting to arrive before him.

A waiter offered her a glass of champagne and she shook her head. “No, thank you. Do you have water?”

He pointed to a waitress as the other end of the room where the chandeliers flashed light and brilliance that was reflected in the mirrors. “Thank you,” she murmured, searching the crowd for Brock. She didn’t see a soul she knew in the entire room, and wondered where the hosts were. She should at least be able to identify Walter Prentice since he had been in Brock’s office before. Accepting a glass of water from the server, she nodded her thanks and backed against the wall. Perhaps she would be able to see Brock from here.

A group of men on one side of her discussed the terrible performance of the Giants. A group of women on her other side discussed plastic surgery. Elle caught fragments of each conversation.

“They need to trade the pitcher. He can’t do anything,” one man lamented.

“Have you heard about Dr. Frazier? He does amazing things with filler.”

“If you ask me, it’s not the pitcher, it’s the management,” another man said.

“I hear he worked on Carol Maddox. She looks a little too tight to me,” a woman said.

Elle’s ears perked up at the mention of her mother-in-law.

“She looks better now that he’s plumped up her face a little. Speaking of Carol, did you hear about Brock? He’s off the market,” a woman said.

“Oh, no,” several women murmured. “Who got him?”

“I hear he knocked up his assistant. The only reason he married her is because she’s pregnant,” the woman said.

Elle felt her face heat with embarrassment. Even though she knew the woman’s words were true, the humiliation struck at the core of her. She wanted to defend her relationship with Brock. She wanted to tell the woman that she and Brock had experienced a closeness that neither of them had expected, yet both had cherished. But she wouldn’t. Because the bottom line was, Elle had betrayed him and he’d married her because of the baby.

Taking a long drink of water, she strongly considered leaving. She could tell Brock she hadn’t felt well…

“Well, well, Mrs. Maddox, what are you doing in the corner?” Walter Prentice said with a big smile and booming voice. “Come and meet my wife. She’s been dying to see who finally slayed Brock Maddox and brought him to his knees.”

Elle forced her lips into a smile and accepted the arm he offered. “Good evening, Mr. Prentice. You have a lovely home. And I wouldn’t call it slayed,” she said, referring to Brock. “I definitely didn’t bring him to his knees.”

“Oh, don’t tell me Brock didn’t give you a proper old-fashioned proposal?” he asked, ushering her through the crowd.

“Well, you know Brock. He’s a breathtaking combination of tradition and cutting edge,” she managed.

“Too true,” he said. “Now, here’s my wife, Angela. Angela, this is Brock’s new bride, Elle.”