Page 12 of Falling Fast

“Thank you,” she murmured, gathering her purse before standing, the gigantic diamond ring on her finger catching in the light. She wore it on her right hand, no doubt so people would see it every time she reached for her water glass or scratched the end of her nose.

Dean could smell her lack of self-esteem a mile away. She could wrap herself in expensive clothes and jewels and live in a ten-million-dollar mansion in Connecticut, but it would never fill the emptiness inside her. No, that kind of confidence could only come from inside a person, and she just didn’t have it.

She glanced up at him through her false lashes, her look bordering on flirtatious. “I’ll let you know by the weekend.”

“Okay.” She wasn’t going to accept the deal, he could already tell, and that annoyed the hell out of him. He’d have to make another, higher offer. If she didn’t accept that one…

Well, there were always other methods he could employ to get the answer he wanted if she proved difficult. He hadn’t needed to resort to them recently. Whenever possible he preferred not resorting to violence. It made his life a lot easier when things didn’t get messy.

For now, he’d wait. Give her a day or two to think about his offer, then push. He’d learned over the years that people reacted more favorably to pressure after a short waiting period, rather than right away. Just one of the things he’d figured out during the process of making the transition from a thug to a civilized businessman.

But still ruthless, even if people didn’t see it until it was too late.

He caught her hand, noted the flash of surprise in her eyes, the wariness, as he slowly raised it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back of it, just above the gaudy ring. Her cheeks flushed darker, and that shy little smile was downright endearing, even with the wrinkles. She saw only the veneer he showed to the rest of the world, the polished, successful real estate developer with the suave manners.

He took a certain perverse pleasure in knowing she had no idea who she was really dealing with.

“Pleasure to meet you face-to-face finally, Catherine,” he murmured against her soft skin.

“Y-yes. Nice to meet you too.” Still blushing, she pulled her hand away, nervously smoothed it down the front of her dress.

She was sweet in a way, almost innocent. It intrigued him, made him wonder how she would respond if he drugged her and did the kinds of things to her that her ex probably hadn’t dreamed of.

Maybe he’d do it after they closed the deal. Take her out to his place in the Hamptons and fuck her for the night. He’d slip something into her drink when she wasn’t looking, some of the new product that was going around.

A small dose would leave her conscious but not aware, and he could do any damn thing he liked to her. When it was over and she woke up alone in a hotel room the next morning, he’d have the land and she wouldn’t remember a thing.

He’d done it before, though the women he’d chosen weren’t linked to him through business, and usually younger and hotter. Still, he could make an exception for her this once. She wasn’t hideous, and the thought of defiling her that way sent a wave of power through his veins, settling in his groin with a pleasurable ache. It had been too long since he’d let his inner deviant out to play.

He shifted to block the sight of his swelling erection in case she happened to glance down and gestured to the door with another easy smile. “Shall we?” He set a hand on her lower back, keeping the contact light, non-threatening, but a shade possessive. She didn’t protest or pull away, shooting him another glance from under her lashes.

Outside the restaurant, a cool breeze tugged at his suit jacket. In between the skyscrapers of the concrete jungle that was downtown Manhattan, slices of pure blue sky were visible. A gorgeous spring day.

He hailed a cab for her, even opened the back door and paid the fare before he put her in the backseat. She shot him one last smile and waved as the cab pulled away from the curb. He was still hard, arousal swirling through him at the thought of what he could do to her.

Feeling energized, he turned and headed south up the sidewalk, pulling out his phone to call his secretary back at the office. It was only a ten-minute walk and the weather was perfect for it. “Did they fix the issue yet?”

“No,” she answered. “They’ve tried everything.”

Annoyance burst inside him. This was the third tech company this week that hadn’t been able to figure out why his supposedly “secure” and insanely expensive state-of-the-art computer system at Pinnacle Group was continually being infected by a complex and vicious virus.

Whoever was behind it had fucked up the whole system and so far no one had been able to figure out a solution. “Tell them to forget it, and that I’ll only pay them half their fee. Then get on the phone and find someone who can fix the system.”

“Yes, sir.”

He ended the call without responding and headed for the curb to hail a cab. It pissed him off so much that someone was fucking with his system.

Unacceptable. He’d been expecting an important wire transfer the other day and because of certain…delicate alterations he had to make before it went into his bank account, he had to run it through his specialized system at the office.

Except the virus made that impossible. If he didn’t get the issue resolved in the next day or two, certain high-profile clients would demand answers. Attention he didn’t want and couldn’t afford.

Dammit, he might have to make the two-hour drive to his place in Sagaponack and run the transfer through his encrypted laptop. But that was risky because if anyone at the bank or a government agency traced it, they might launch an investigation. He’d only do it as a last resort.

This business was fluid, and considering the kind of people he dealt with, he was only as good as his reputation. And his rep was only as good as his last job or transaction. He was an important man and had important people to keep happy if he wanted his lifestyle and position within the cartel to last.

An available taxi came into view as traffic began flowing toward him again. He started to lift his hand, then an idea occurred to him and he lowered it, turning away to head back into the tide of people moving along the sidewalk. He reached into his inside breast coat pocket and took out the special, encrypted phone he only used for his private business ventures.

“I was just going to call you,” Tim, his most trusted source said. “The meeting in Tampa is a go.”

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