“Lucy, I’m home,” I yell into the intercom speaker. The buzz of the lock being disengaged sounds moments later. I take the elevator up and then knock on the door. Malcolm is there before I can drop my hand away, and as the door swings open I see him.
He’s sitting there, his hand over the white box, all crushed and kicked-in. Ian doesn’t belong here. It’s not that he’s wearing a suit or anything, although I expect his expertly distressed jeans cost as much as a bicycle and that his big leather boots—black this time—could float my rent for the month. It’s just the way he holds himself. He’s commanding and looks like he owns the place. Malcolm stands to the side, his hands dangling out of the tops of his jeans pockets, shifting from one foot to the other as if he’s the visitor rather than Ian.
“Tiny,” Ian drawls out. Apparently he and Malcolm have had a long talk if he’s discarded my real name for my nickname. The way he says it, though, is so different than either my mom or Malcolm. With Mom it’s loving and with Malcolm it’s an insult. Out of Ian’s mouth it sounds like a caress. “Thanks for joining us.”
I decide that confronting this situation head on makes the best sense. Tossing my helmet on the living room sofa, I drop into the chair opposite of Ian. “Nice car out there.”
“Thank you.” He’s wearing his amused look. “You put that together quick.”
“Uh, it’s not hard. Rich guy. Rich car. Neither belong in this neighborhood.”
His eyes slide, almost imperceptibly toward Malcolm. “Not everyone made the connection.”
I shut up then because I might not get along with Malcolm but he’s still family and I don’t want anyone else insulting him. Other than me.
Ian cocks his head and we sit in extended silence, engaged in a weird battle for control. I can sit here all night, my stare conveys. But under the table, I’m pressing my legs together and my pussy is clenching as if in anticipation of something other than my own fingers being shoved inside me.
His smug smile says “I’ve been playing this game for a long time” but his eyes are burning right through me. If I lean under the table, I suspect I’d see a bulge in his pants. It takes superhuman effort not to check it out.
Malcolm breaks the tension. “Ian has a proposition for you,” he blurts out.
I bet he does. Even Ian’s unflappable face breaks into a tiny smirk at the double entendre delivered by my brother. We continue staring at each other and I continue getting more and more turned on. Fuck.
Finally, Ian decides to break first. “I do. I need someone to work for me for a period of two, possibly three months.”
“What’s it entail?”
“I’ll explain further only if you agree.” He snaps his fingers and Malcolm immediately produces two pages that look a lot like the contract I delivered, only with less words. “This is a non-disclosure agreement. It’s very simple. I’ll disclose some information to you and in exchange you’ll receive a weekly sum of money, along with other props necessary for you to carry out the work required of you—all of which you are free to keep after this project is completed. The only caveat is that you can never reveal anything I disclose to you. Very standard.”
I finger the document but don’t pull it closer. “How much?”
“$10,000 a week.”
“What?” I push away from the table. “What kind of lunatic pays that kind of money for anything?”
“I’m guessing you don’t know who I am, is that correct?” he asks. I shake my head. “I made $25 million a day last year and this year I’m on pace to make $37 million. A day.” He emphasizes the time period. “This amount is so paltry that I doubt my accountant will even need to expense it.”
The mention of an accountant eases my fear a bit because surely if he’s got an accountant, everything he does can’t be illegal, right? I slide into my chair because the sums he just spouted off are knee-shakingly high. No wonder Malcolm jumps when Ian snaps his fingers.
“Then it sounds like what you’re proposing to pay me is too low,” I say slowly, trying to decide whether I want to work for this man who I’m insanely attracted to and who has warned me at least once that he intends to hunt me down and . . . I have no idea what he’ll do with me when he catches me, and I can’t spend much time contemplating the scenarios because if I do, I’ll end up being a puddle of goo on the floor.
Behind me Malcolm sounds like he is choking but by the glint in Ian’s eye, I can tell he’s not offended at all.