Page 41 of Unstitch

Well, well, well.

I was right.

The Big Dick-ness of this entire setup is truly epic.

He’s standing behind a huge, old, expensive-looking desk, grinning at me. He has on a pale blue shirt and a navy tie. His hair is slicked back and he looks every inch the corporate legend he apparently is. I may be tall, but in my sundress and flat sandals I feel vulnerable and even a little gauche. Maybe not gauche, but I’m definitely not of this world.

He doesn’t want me to be of this world, I remind myself. I bet Rix can’t work a pole like I can. Max has invited me here precisely because he wants an escape from work.

‘Well, hello there,’ he says, still grinning as he rounds his desk and comes towards us, his hands in his pockets. ‘Thank you, Rix. Miss Carew and I are not to be disturbed. We have some very important business to attend to, don’t we, sweetheart?’

‘Of course, Mr Hunter,’ she replies smoothly as I flush. I’m not sure if it’s the endearment or his allusion to why I’m here that’s getting me flustered. It’s definitely not for business—though I suppose I have an important job to do.

Still, it’s all a bit intimidating. I’ve come here for a booty call at the behest of the CEO of Europe’s biggest private company, and the old-school art on the walls and the thick white carpet on the floor and the deferential way Rix addresses Max all conspire to make me feel a little out of my depth.

He’s on me as soon as the door clicks shut behind us, wrapping one hand around my neck and clamping the other to my bum so he can pin me against him. I look up at him, at the approval in his blue eyes and the arrogant smirk on his handsome face.

Yep. This is definitely a better plan than my original one of arranging all my romance paperbacks on my sister’s bookshelves.

‘I enjoy it when you do as I say,’ he murmurs against my mouth before kissing me. I decide responses are overrated and open for him instead, winding my arms around his neck and revelling in the decisive force of his tongue pushing into my mouth, and the possessive way the hand on my neck moves upwards to grab a fistful of my hair, and the hard press of his lean body against my curves.

It’s not until he’s released me that I retort, ‘I only do what you say when it suits me.’

‘Of that I have no doubt at all,’ he says drily. ‘Except I’m amazed it didn’t suit you to take twenty grand off me.’

‘It didn’t suit me to take money for sex.’

‘It wasn’t for sex,’ he says slowly and deliberately against my lips, as if I’m being deliberately obtuse. ‘It was for the dance. The very, very sexy dance. You earned it.’

‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘like I’m going to dance for you and fuck you and then walk off with your money. I don’t think so.’

‘Suit yourself.’

‘I did. And I will, thank you very much.’

‘So, today it “suits you” to take some cock, does it?’

‘It’s that or rearrange my bookshelves,’ I deadpan, and he throws his head back and laughs.

‘Un-fucking-believable.’

He manages to slap me on my arse before I wriggle out of his arms. I toe off my sandals and set about exploring his office. Oh wow, this carpet is like velvet. I could happily go to sleep on it. I could?—

Oh, shit.

‘Is this Anton’s old office?’ I ask suspiciously, whipping my head around to look at him.

‘It is,’ he says. He’s crossed his arms and is watching me with an expression of amused hunger, which seems to be his default when it comes to me. It’s as if he can’t decide whether to pounce or to leave me to my own devices a little longer for his entertainment.

I make a face. ‘Ew. So my sister knows this carpet well, then?’

Another hearty laugh. ‘Yep. And that boardroom table.’

‘Oh, God.’ I grimace, though I don’t really blame her for rolling over in here. She was probably as powerless against this room’s Big Dick Energy as she was against Anton’s. I stand in front of a chic dark grey bookcase housing not only a terrifying amount of business books but tonnes of awards for Wolff. Ethical Employer of the Year: Winner. B-Corp of Year: Finalist.

Impressive.

For some reason, I didn’t expect Wolff to be anything more than a big, fat, dirty conglomerate. I wonder if anyone on the marketing side ever dared suggest to Anton that a company name that sounded like a ravenous predator might not be the smartest branding decision, even if it is his surname.

---