If she couldn't convince herself her love had nothing to do with his money, how could she convince anyone else?
Chapter Ten
"Mr. O'Brien would like to see you in his office immediately." Angela didn't sound her usual bubbly self. The fact that she'd used Dominic's title didn't bode well considering the company's creed that they were all part of one big family so there was no need to stand on formality.
Chantelle hoped that she wasn't the cause of the woman's uncharacteristic solemnity, though she suspected she was. Dominic must have just read her letter of resignation.
"Tell him I'll be there in fifteen minutes." Chantelle tried to make her voice sound coolly professional, but butterflies were dancing in her stomach.
Let him stew in his own juices for a little longer.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her legs and swung her chair in half a dozen complete circles before she remembered that she could be seen from the outside.
It wasn't as if she planned on leaving tomorrow. She had just politely informed him that she would work out her three month notice period effective from today.
Her iPhone immediately beeped.
Get up here now. Or I'll come down and get you!
She stood up and immediately headed towards the lifts. He was crazy enough to come down and haul her upstairs by her hair … or kiss her senseless in front of everyone.
Angela looked up in relief when Chantelle tapped on the door.
"Hi Angela, I finished what I was doing a little earlier than expected."
"No problem, Chantelle." The woman's frowning face broke into a smile and Chantelle wondered if she knew more than she let on. The woman reached into a drawer and pulled out a handbag that Chantelle had seen priced at several thousand pounds. Dominic must pay the woman a fortune. "He's expecting you. Go on right through. I'm popping out for lunch now."
Dominic stopped his pacing when she pushed the door open.
"What the hell is this?" he demanded, shaking the paper he held crushed in his hand at her.
God, he's even more gorgeous when he's angry!
"Dominic, I told you I was going to leave."
"And I told you that you weren't going anywhere!"
She'd come up with several reasons to convince herself that she was better off leaving him and the company. Just one look at his beloved face made her wonder if she could honestly bear to tear herself away.
"Dominic, it's better this way," she began, backing away to the door as he advanced. "If the media find out about us, Shawn and the girls could get teased or bullied by the neighborhood kids … even their own friends."
"That's why I want you to move."
"I don't want them to get used to a certain lifestyle and then have to go back to what we have now when our relationship is over."
"Who said that it would be over?" He challenged. "I've made some enquiries and it's not too late for them to change schools for the new school year. Shawn wants to go to Oxford next year, but realistically he has a very slim chance unless he's attending a private school. My brother Edward lectures there, but he doesn't have enough clout to influence the admission board. I've found an excellent school for him and they will arrange extra tuition if he needs it. Cerise can board at the school I've found for her, or she can live at home and get a lift there daily. There are plenty of schools Charmine can attend. She's little and you know her better, so you can choose which you think will suit her best."
He put his arms around her and she let him push her head onto his shoulder. His offer was so tempting she didn't know why she was hesitating. It was a dream come true … But one that could turn into a nightmare if he decided he had enough of her in a few months' time.
"You don't know what it's like to have the rug pulled from under you." Her throat ached as memories flooded back. "My parents weren't rich, but we had everything we needed. We went to Jamaica every summer to see our grandparents and even though my father never came with us, we had a great time. When we came back from that last holiday … my father had disappeared and the house felt so … empty."
"I'm not your father."
"I know you're not, but I saw what love can do to a woman. It was like my mother's spirit died and left an outer shell. Believe it or not, when you first saw her, she was in a better state than when my father left. With him gone too, it was like we were orphans. When I started to mature I had no one to turn to for advice. It was Mrs. Alexander, the P.E. teacher, who pulled me aside one day and told me I needed to wear a bra. Cerise's hair is soft like Dad's, I could pull it back into a ponytail and put a couple of slides around her head to make it look nice. My hair's thicker. I didn't know how to handle it. I looked like a wild child in the class year-group photograph that year. My white shirt was a dingy grey instead of white, my skirt had a noticeable scorch mark because I didn't know how to regulate the iron and my hair was in three tangled puffs because I couldn't pull the comb through it. Whenever I see that photograph it makes me feel sad, not because of my clothes or my hair, but the hopelessness in my eyes."
"Don't cry." He tightened his arms around her and Chantelle realized in surprise that her eyes were wet. She never cried; she didn't have time.
"It was tough, but I survived it." Annoyed with herself, she twisted out of his embrace and backed away until she felt the door behind her. "I never want to feel that vulnerable again."
"All I want to do is look after you. To give you the life you deserve."
"I can look after myself!"
"Really?" His voice was dangerously cool as he covered the space between them with a few long strides. He pressed her back against the door and cupped her breast through her cream silk blouse. Her nipples sprang to attention even before he took them between thumb and forefinger. He raised an eyebrow arrogantly as he tweaked them into tighter, harder points and asked again, "Really?"
"Dominic!" she protested weakly, as he then unerringly found her clit through her skirt and thong and rubbed his erection against it. She hated that she was such a pushover for him-she couldn't help but melt at his touch. She would resist him the next time, she promised herself, but right now she needed … needed to come, desperately.
"Brace your hands against the door." Spinning her around he covered her breasts with his hands once more and continued the sweet torment.
"Angela could come back at any moment!" Sanity returned briefly as his hands left her breasts to move to the hem of her skirt, but not for long. He pushed the fitted skirt up and briefly rubbed his hands over her smooth behind before pushing her thong downwards to pool at her feet.
"If she gets in here and see us it will be entirely your fault." With that he knelt behind her and buried his face between her legs.
Oh fuck!
Chantelle bit her wrist and held back the scream that threatened to escape in the following moments as he ate her with no mercy. She stepped out of her thong and tilted herself up further so that his tongue could lave her just … so. The world spun crazily for a moment as she came in a series of shivers and shakes. She cried out, worried that she would fall, but Dominic straightened and held her securely back against his hard body.
"Angela's probably wondering what's happening in here," he said. "Go tidy up before she comes to investigate."
Face aflame, Chantelle snatched up her thong and staggered to his washroom on legs that felt too weak to support her and three-inch heels that seemed twice as high.
Her hair was still in place and except for the sweet ache between her legs and the languid look in her eyes, she looked fine. She hurriedly tidied herself and returned to his office to find him seated behind his desk, looking as though he hadn't moved all day.
She glared at him for a second and then headed to the door and pulled it open. Angela's seat was unoccupied.
"Lucky she's meeting friends for lunch today and won't be back until late." Chantelle turned back and once again shot him daggers from her eyes. He smiled and licked his lips. "Your delightful little scream as you came would have given the game away."
"You knew she wasn't there, you bastard!" She couldn't help but smile with relief at the thought that no one but him had heard the loud involuntary moan which escaped despite her best efforts.
"My parents had been happily married for twenty years before I came along," he corrected. "Speaking of parents, I booked a table for you and my mother at Bea's tomorrow at one. Don't keep her waiting."
***
As the waiter ushered her to the table, Chantelle realized that they seem to be heading towards a woman whose hair was liberally streaked with grey and brushed smoothly back from her face into a large, curly Afro puff, sitting alone at a table for two.