Page 72 of Spooked

“Uh, sure.”

I headed into my office. Mr. Vale had been in such a weird mood recently, but firing Selena was extreme. She was good at her job, he’d always said so, and such a fun person to be around.

There was a bound document on my desk. No note. For crying out loud—was I meant to mail it, photocopy it, or shred it? Why couldn’t he just communicate? I scanned the first page—it was some kind of legal thing.

This divorce agreement (“this Agreement”) is made and entered into as of the Effective Date by and between Braxton Louis Vale (“the Petitioner”) and Carissa Madeleine Dunn (“the Respondent”)…

Frantically, I flipped through to the end. Four signatures, all dated yesterday. Mr. Vale, Carissa, and two witnesses. Oh, hell, he’d done it. He’d really done it.

He’d gotten divorced, which meant he’d lost everything.

Was that why he’d let Selena go? Was she just the start? Had Carissa decided to close Nyx? It wasn’t as if she had a clue how to run the club herself, and the building would be worth millions as real estate.

Gingerly, I pushed open the door to Mr. Vale’s office, half expecting him to be passed out drunk. But he wasn’t. He was sitting at his empty desk, clean-shaven, no tie, his top shirt button undone.

Waiting.

But for what?

“You…you really did it?”

“I really did it.”

“You gave up everything? This place?”

“Almost. I would have, but luckily it didn’t come to that. Some old friends stepped in to help, and Carissa made a rare mistake.”

“So Nyx is still yours?”

“Yes, and it always will be. Come and sit down, Meera.”

I headed for the visitor chair in front of his desk, the place I usually sat, but he shook his head.

“Not there.” He tapped the desk in front of him. “Here.”

“You want me to sit on your desk?”

“I do.”

He had the old gleam back in his eye, the cocky confidence, the glint that said “I’m going to ruin you and you’re going to enjoy it.”

I sat, eyeing him warily as goosebumps popped out on my arms.

“Good girl.”

He ran his hands down my legs, then put my feet on the arms of his chair, my legs spread, the heels of my pumps digging into the soft leather, my panties exposed. The goosebumps turned into a shiver. I’d never felt quite so vulnerable.

Or quite so turned on.

Mr. Vale’s divorce was finalised, and there was nothing between us now. Nothing to keep us apart. Well, nothing except the fact that I’d probably have to leave the country in the morning, anyway. My guilt complex was at war with itself. Deep down, I knew that he’d pushed the divorce through because of me, because of the heat that simmered between us every time we were close. But I didn’t want to lead him on, to give him hope that we could have a future together and then fail to deliver.

He deserved more.

But then there was the selfish part of me—she wanted her say too. If my family tracked me down, I’d be forced to marry Karam, to submit to a man I hated. I’d have to give up everything for him. But he wasn’t having my virginity. No, that gift would go to a man I loved.

So when Mr. Vale rose out of his chair and kissed me, his breath rough, his gaze heated, I kissed him right back.

I’d always worried that my lack of experience would stall me, that I’d make some embarrassing error, but now I realised my fears had been unfounded. Mr. Vale led, and I followed. He was in control. And the way he looked at me… I felt beautiful. Sexy. When Karam looked at me, I felt like a specimen under a microscope. As if he was assessing my many flaws.

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