Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance(178)

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Well, no,” I stammered, “but I think that he--”

“Brienne?”

I whirled around, suddenly wondering what in the hell I was really doing there. How was I supposed to pull this off?

“Oh,” he said, his features a mask of amused confusion, “I thought you were bringing coffee?”

I waved my hand in the air as though that was a small matter that should be immediately forgotten. I’d seen other people get away with that kind of sorcery so why not? I could try it, right?

“Well,” I said, putting on a sultry purr, “I heard that you already had an espresso bar here in the building?”

I raised one eyebrow at him and hung my hand on my hip, trying to look as though I was sassy and confident even while my insides were doing backflips and begging me to hide in a corner somewhere.

To my complete astonishment, it appeared to work. His eyebrows went up in an expression of surprise and mirth. He seemed to be enjoying the tease.

OK. You like the saucy vixen, do you? Well, if this is going to be how I have to play it, I will.

I switched my weight to my other hip, almost biting my lip at the intense stroke of my panties across my crotch. That was a complication. How was I supposed to concentrate on my mission with my labia getting more frisky with every passing second? I felt a flush crawling up the skin of my chest and hoped he wouldn't notice.

“The meeting is over anyway,” he admitted, shrugging. “I assumed you had forgotten. We were just going to lunch. Would you like to join us?”

“I came about the job,” I blurted out with my chin lifted, slightly disbelieving the words as they rolled out of my lips.

I must be insane.

“The job,” he repeated slowly, working his jaw as though rolling the words around in his mouth. I could see a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Well, that is quite a development. Why don't you join us for lunch and we can discuss it?”

“Does that mean there is no job?” I said archly. “This was all some kind of tease perhaps?”

“Oh no no,” he said, quickly putting his hands palm out as though trying to stop traffic and express his innocence at the same time. “Please don't get the wrong impression. We have, uh, positions available in multiple areas. Honestly, I just-- I never really thought you were going to take me up on it.”

He stepped closer to me, his aquamarine eyes twinkling merrily. I had a brief memory of staring into his eyes flash through my mind like lightning. The way he squinted at me, confused and intense. The way his gaze darted down my cleavage and back up again...

“I can't tell you how exciting this is, frankly. There are about a thousand things that I would like to discuss with you. When can you take a meeting?”

Do I say: ‘I’m here now?’ Do I say: ‘I’ll pencil you in?’ I wondered, my body beginning to tremble from the strain of maintaining a regal, authoritative pose while my panties got progressively more swampy.

Maybe that pussy-shaving idea was bad timing. I can practically hear it purring.

Somewhere in the dark shadows of my mind, that small voice that tells me how ridiculous I probably look started hissing at me and I took my millionth cleansing breath. I figured had exactly thirty more seconds before I ran out of courage and started galloping for the front door.

While I considered how best to end the conversation I heard the elevator open behind me. A waft of expensive cologne washed through my sinuses as Lyle walked by and stopped, turning and crossing his arms in one smooth motion as though suddenly diverted by a shiny thing he might like to buy.

“Oh hello,” he said in a low chuckle. His biceps bulged inside of his crisply starched, sky blue shirt and I couldn’t help but remember his fingers grazing across the top of my thigh when he was behind me, pressed up to me, his hips behind my hips as though…

“Haven’t we met?” he said with a devilish smirk. “Didn’t we rescue you from a band of rabid square dancers last night?”

Do not glance at his crotch. Do not glance at his crotch. Do not glance at his crotch.

Aw, fuck.

Owen cleared his throat with a noise that almost sounded like one of those coughs that you use to cover some other word. I turned toward him, grateful for the distraction. My weight slid to my other thigh, dragging my sensitive undercarriage across my panties again, sending a shudder shooting up my torso that ended at my lips.

Did that come out?

Oh my god did I just make a sex sound??

Stretching a smile across my teeth I blinked, twice (I counted!) and took a breath through my nose. I stayed completely still, smiling like a game show model, throwing the last of my courage together with every ounce of strength I had.