Page 55 of Duplicity

The keynote speaker, you may ask?

Yours truly.

It takes a lot to get me excited about a conference, but this one checks all the boxes. It’s fucking gold when it comes to cementing (see what I did there?) Sullivan Construction as a leader in sustainable luxury construction. It’s a huge validation for me and amajor fuck youto everyone who’s ever written me off as the playboy Sullivan brother. And, of course, the financial opportunities are sky high. If I get this speech right, we could hit the jackpot on multiple ten- and eleven-figure contracts from governments and developers worldwide.

Yep, this is the big leagues, baby.

That said, I can’t write schmoozy speeches for shit, so my strategy and PR teams are working endlessly on my behalf to craft the perfect keynote. Words like “rhetoric” and other wanky terms are being bandied about far too much for my liking. I’m chiming in occasionally with my opinions, my camera turned off so I can zone out without being busted, and growing sufficiently bored out of my brain that I seek out some light in-car entertainment.

We’re about ten minutes away from the Kingsley Group’s headquarters near the Bank of England. Plenty of time to have some fun. I slide the privacy screen up, separating us from Yan, and flick the intercom off.

‘Open your legs,’ I mouth at Marlowe. Her jaw drops in surprise, and I nod curtly to show her I’m serious. She does asI ask, widening her legs beneath the roomy skirt of her dress. I push the fabric upwards and run my fingertips along her thigh until I find the lovely, exposed spot I’ve been searching for. It’s so warm and soft and wet. So inviting, I could get on my knees right here and eat her.

But I won’t.

I’ll make us both wait.

I mute myself for a second.

‘You’ll have to be a very good girl when we get into this meeting,’ I whisper, pushing two fingers inside her. Her mouth makes an O shape as she takes me. It makes me want to grin, but I don’t. I want her to get the Stern Brendan experience. Because she really issucha good girl. ‘And you’ll have to be very quiet now,’ I continue, holding my phone up so she can see me unmute myself.

For the next few minutes, I toy with a squirming Marlowe as I pretend to give a shit about what my project managers are saying. Really, my focus is on getting to Kingsley.

That’s when the real fun will start.

This is all a test.

That’s what I tell myself.

It’s a test to see if my very expensive new EA with benefits can handle the more extreme parts of her job. A test to see if she’s willing to earn the salary that makes her the most well-compensated person at my company, myself and our Finance Director aside.

It’s a test to see if sheenjoysit. To see how much she can handle. Just how filthy she’s capable of being.

It’s not a case of me being a horny, entitled dickhead.

Not entirely, anyway.

MARLOWE

These offices are as opulent, as stylish, as you’d expect for the headquarters of a seriously high-end hotel group. I’ve never been in a Kingsley hotel, not even to have a drink, but I follow them on Instagram and I can confirm that their feed makes me drool.

As my diabolical boss leads me into the sleek lift, I’m still worked up from the way he edged me on the way here. I swear, this man is frustrating. He orders me to wear the most porno set of underwear he bought me, he ignores me all morning, and only on the way to meet one of his most important clients does he start to play. Ugh! I could cheerfully strangle him.

‘What’s the agenda for the meeting?’ I ask him, attempting to pull myself together. He’s cool as a cucumber except for the hand in his pocket fiddling with what I now know is a fidget toy.

‘Just a general catch-up.’ He seems evasive, but then he winks at me. ‘Nothing too serious.’

‘Got it.’

The lift doors open and Brendan ushers me down a wide corridor whose walls are lined with a taupe-coloured linen. At the end of the corridor, a man stands perfectly still, his hands in his pockets. It looks like he’s waiting for us. As we approach, I can see that his hair is somewhere in the dark blond slash light brown region, swept back from his face. He’s tall and lean—less bulky than Brendan—and he doesn’t crack a smile as we stop before him, even though I’m smiling at him in a way that’s more jittery than anything else.

His lack of smile is unnerving.

He’sunnerving.

‘Hiya, mate,’ Brendan says easily.

‘Bren. Good to see you.’ He sounds friendlier than he looks, although his face seems to soften a little as he shakes Brendan’s hand. Up close, his eyes are an astonishing colour—cold and light grey and strangely beautiful—but it’s his impassivity that stands out the most.

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