Page 13 of Duplicity

She’s just so damnbeautiful, in a way that’s ethereal and natural. Wholesome and sexy at the same time. She appears in the doorframe, bending to greet Mark. He’s lodged himself squarely in her path, giving her no choice but to acknowledge him. Her long blonde hair falls in a sleek curtain over her face, and I shamelessly ogle the silhouette of her body in heels and a pale pink fitted dress that might just be my downfall. She hasn’t seen me yet.

Mark, the little tart, is wiggling his ample arse at her as he laps up her attention. I issue myself a stern reminder that the scope of today’s interview is strictly limited to the executive part of the role and that I can’t overtly drool over her, make any innuendos, or shove her to her knees to commence her “audition”. All that is shelved until I decide whether she’s qualified to be my EA and she decides if she’s up for moving forward to the next stage, which really means that this afternoon is my audition, if you think about it.

I have to attract her and impress her and make her trust me and desist from freaking her out, and as I stare at her, that all seems like a pretty tall order.

I clear my throat in preparation for taking my voice as low as it’ll go. ‘Marlowe. Thanks so much for coming.’

She stops cooing over my dog and straightens up with a snap, her eyes going wide as her hair flies about her face. ‘Oh, hi,’ she says, clearly flustered. ‘I’m—it’s good to see you again, Mr Sullivan.’

I shoot her my well-proven smile. ‘It’s Brendan, please.’Except when you’re sucking my cock.‘Mark.Sit.’

My stupid dog does no such thing, and instead rubs his head against Marlowe’s thigh, something that should be my move. The little traitor has completely abandoned our 'bros before hoes' pact. We're going to have a serious talk about loyalty later, preferably when I'm not busy imagining what Marlowe looks like under that dress.

She manoeuvres herself gracefully around him so she can approach me. She moves like she's completely unaware of her effect on men, which either makes her the most convincing actress I've ever met or dangerously naïve. I'm going to enjoy finding out which it is.

We extend our hands and shake.

‘It’s good to see you again, Brendan.’

This time, I’m prepared. This time, the shock of her skin against mine doesn’t turn me into a spineless, voiceless wanker. Because this time, I’m a big swinging dick in my big swinging dick office, and she is not my acquaintance’s stupidly hot friend but instead a candidate for the most big-swinging-dick hire I’ve ever made.

‘Thanks for coming in. This is Mark, my one-man welcoming committee.’

She turns to beam at him, and I’m instantly jealous.

‘He’s very sweet.’

‘He likes you. He doesn’t like everyone.’Clever doggy.Mark is exquisitely discerning when it comes to humans, and Marlowe has passed his test with flying colours. My dog, who regularly snubs supermodels and once growled at a Victoria's Secret Angel, is acting like Marlowe has slipped him a steak. Between his silent if enthusiastic approval and the glorious fucking sight in front of me, I may as well hire her on the spot. It’s not like I give a shit what her qualifications are like. The only skills of hers I’m interested in are the ones I won’t get to test out until the next round.

Fuck, I wish it was the next round.

As I usher her over to the huge white L-shaped sofa in the corner and Plain Elaine appears to take our coffee orders, I eye-fuck her as hard as I can.

Marlowe, that is. Not Elaine.

She looks far more groomed than at our ill-fated meeting at the RA. I was too busy spinning out to lock down a concrete memory of her, but my memory is of a messy bun and lots of blonde wisps and a floaty dress. Now her hair is a shiny golden curtain, and I’m a far bigger fan of the fitted sleeveless dress she’s wearing today. It’s demure but sexy, and it definitely saysbend me over your desk and spank me, Mr Sullivan.So there’s that. Still, it’s not screaming for attention, unlike the packaging most of the women I date present themselves in. It’s just framing what’s already worth looking at. It’s classy.

And I’d forgotten her eyes were brown. How the hell could I have forgotten that? Blonde hair—it looks natural—and brown eyes and creamy, lightly tanned skin are an intoxicating combination. They’re a clear coffee colour and they bring so much warmth to her appearance. She’s tall and willowy and her bare legs are, from the clear view I got as she was petting Mark, knockout.

Between the legs and the face, she’s a solid ten, and she’ll hold that rank as long as she knows how to use her little pink mouth properly. The fact that I’ll soon be paying to find out feels almost criminal—kind of like getting a brand new Aston Martin at a police auction.

She’s everything I remembered from that first sucker punch but all wrapped up in somesexy secretarypackage, which is so compelling that it feels like Christmas. She could play some kind of sleek receptionist to a Bond villain.

The logical conclusion to that train of thought is thatI’mthe Bond villain in this scenario.

Elaine scurries off, shutting the door behind her—good—and I realise I've been staring at Marlowe’s mouth for an uncomfortably long time while my brain took a trip to Fantasy Island. This is why I take Ritalin on weekdays, for fuck's sake. Not that any amount of brain food could keep me focused on spreadsheets withherin the room.

Shiny new catamarans be damned, because she’s undoubtedly going to be my new favourite toy.

I can’t wait to take her for a ride.

CHAPTER 7

Marlowe

Okay.

Brendan Sullivan is ridiculous. Like, the kind of ridiculous that would make women more at ease than me with their sexuality (read: anyone) drop their panties just like that but makes me want to let out some kind of high-pitched, nervous titter, because I’m here to interview with some kind of bad boy, alpha-hole romance hero come to lifefor the well-paid honour of sleeping with him.

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