Page 58 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
19
Summer
I hold my wrists under the running water from the tap. Goosebumps pop on my forearms. Get a hold of yourself; it’s okay.
It will be okay.
I came all over my new work client's fingers while he negotiated some kind of deal on the phone. My thighs clench. I stare at myself in the mirror. What the hell is wrong with me?
I seriously don't think that what he did to me is hot, right?
The complete control of his actions as he’d finger fucked me to not one, but two orgasms, right there on the conference table, was… hedonistic. It was a hundred ways to screwed up. These things don’t happen in real life. The audacity of the man. He seriously thought that he could get away with it, too. Has he tried this with anyone else previously? I shut off the tap, and my fingers clutch at the cold metal. Of course, he must have. Had he done it in that same conference room? The one where there are no cameras so there can be no incriminating evidence of his trysts. I tip up my chin. I am not going to be yet another in a long list of fuck buddies that he’s gathered along the way. Someone he thinks his power and money can buy off. Isn’t that what brought me here in the first place?
The fact that he holds all of the cards. He has the money I need so desperately. Hell, I could sell myself and not come up with the kind of cash he is offering, at least not as quickly as I need it. It is my life, my sister’s life, my fledgling company.
How far would I go to secure my future? Would I sell my body to the fucked-up machinations of one man? A power drunk, obnoxious jerkface. Too bad he has a countenance that could floor a woman at twenty paces. And that body? I gulp. He could have stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Not to mention a razor-sharp mind, with the ability to stay fully in the present and navigate his way through a complex deal, while the rest of him is focused elsewhere. The man had literally split his attention with cold calculation to ensure all of the tasks at hand were fulfilled to his satisfaction.
And mine.
Moisture laces my already damp panties. I shift my weight from foot to foot. Damn it, I didn’t have a choice. I shove my underwear down my legs, and stuff it into my bag.
The door opens and an older woman walks in. She’s dressed in a fitted skirt, obligatory jacket, and stilettos. She pauses at the wash basin next to mine, and pats her already sleek bob. Not a hair out of place. I stare at my own flushed appearance, the strands of pink hair stuck to my forehead. Grabbing a paper towel, I dab at the shiny skin. Her gaze meets mine in the mirror.
"You have beautiful skin."
I bite the inside of my cheek. "Thank you."
"You're new, huh?"
"No prizes for guessing?" My voice comes out sharper than I intended.
"Don’t let him get to you."
"Who?"
"Sinclair." She flips out her compact and dabs at her nose, "His bark is worse than his bite."
"Oh?"
"It’s the difficult upbringing he had."
I tilt my head, "Difficult?"
"The kind of horrific things he and the rest of the Seven faced as children would have forced many others to have committed suicide or turned to the wrong side of the tracks… which," she snaps her compact shut, "I admit they dabble in the gray area, but they have each other’s backs. And true loyalty among men… Well, there’s something that marks out the character of a man, huh?"
The Seven? Who are the Seven? Is that what 7A is all about? How do I find out about them?I wad the tissue into a ball and drop it into the slit provided. "There’s no honor among thieves. Doesn’t mean their actions can be condoned."
"What if you weren’t seeing the whole picture and your point of view was biasing you?"
I turn to her, "What are you not telling me?"
Her features soften. "That’s for you to find out. You are a resourceful woman. Surely you can solve the rest of this puzzle on your own?"
She reaches out a hand and pats my shoulder. "Come dear, he hates to be kept waiting."
She turns and heads to the doorway.
"Wait."
