Arousal Read online

  “Um, close the door.” My hand instinctively went to cover my neck.

  Aisha shut the door, situated herself in the chair in front of my desk, and waited for me to speak. I hesitated, debating about what to reveal. I trusted her more than anyone, and she was a true friend, so I wanted to share. But it was still a secret. And what if she really does like him? I didn’t want to hurt her or cause her to feel jealous.

  “You’re killing me,” she said, sitting up straight. She placed both hands on my desk and looked at me with rapt attention. Her lifted eyebrows urged me to fess up. Then she gasped aloud as if she’d figured out the mystery. “Wait, was it him?”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I know you had your eye on him. But he made a pass at me last night. Well, more than a pass. He made a point of telling me that he felt we had a destiny together.”

  “Oh my God, Allison.” She put her palms together and started clapping excitedly, as if I’d just announced an engagement. “This is amazing!”

  “No, it’s weird. Can I even take him seriously?” I pushed away from my computer and slumped back in my chair. Next thing I knew I was chewing the nail on my right index finger.

  “How can you not take a man like Nicolai Petre seriously? She stood up and paced. I half expected her to do a happy dance around my office. “He knows what he wants in life and goes for it. And he wants you, my friend.”

  “What about what I want?” I wasn’t even sure any more. Yesterday I thought his stories about destiny were crazy. Today, they seemed less crazy, and, this thing on my neck was warm and tingling with the memory of his lips on my flesh. “I don’t do relationships. And I’m not looking for love with a client or a billionaire who has complicated family issues.”

  “Billionaire problems,” she laughed playfully. “The troubles of gorgeous, sexy men with money and power can be so tiresome!”

  “He told me he believes I am his Ves’tacha.”

  “Awww. Ves’tacha is a Romani term. It means you are his soul mate, his true love, his lobster—you know, like Ross and Rachel on Friends.” As a lover of pop culture and ethnically diverse romantic movies, Aisha was an encyclopedia of terms of endearments from many traditions and could describe mating and wedding rituals from around the world.

  “I know. I looked it up.” A tear rolled down my cheek. I didn’t usually cry, especially at work. “The moment I set eyes on him I felt a connection, and he came after me and pursued it. But I kept trying to push him away the minute I realized he was our client. He wouldn’t let me.” As the words left my mouth I realized I didn’t want him to. Nicolai came along and had pushed me far out of my comfort zone with his speeches about love and destiny. He challenged me with his sexual dominance and self-control.

  “You should be happy,” she said, pulling a tissue out of the box I kept on my desk and sliding it over to me. “He would have to come on strong to get your attention.”

  “I’m confused. He said he is Romanian. Wouldn’t the world be Draga?” I did a little more research this morning about his culture.

  “His paternal grandmother, Alina Petre, was born in Russia and is also Romani. She’s world famous—and quite rich—for her intuitive predictions. I think that’s where it comes from. I read about her in Forbes.”

  “Really? Apparently, she is the source of this prophecy that convinced him we are meant to be.”

  “Well, that makes sense. Many people have sought her out. Royalty and celebrities. I read that he’s very close to her. Let me show you the article.” Aisha came to my side of the desk, saved my PowerPoint, and clicked over to Google to search. The piece came up with a big color photo of a regal elderly woman. She had Nicolai’s eyes.

  “He didn’t quite mention all that,” I said, skimming the article for Nicolai’s name. I saw it in the fourth paragraph, where it mentioned she nurtured him as a young adult after his parents died. “Our whole night was him trying to sell me on this idea of destiny. But he told me his grandmother was sick and dying. She looks pretty healthy here.” Anger flashed through me and settled in my chest. Was he playing me?

  “Well, it could be an outdated photo and the article is a couple of years old,” she said, leaving my computer and settling back into a chair. “Not to be blunt, but inquiring minds want to know. How good is he in bed? Please tell me billionaires can also be good lovers.”

  “I don’t know. He won’t have sex with me.” I had a flashback to his erection and my urge to ride him in the back seat but I didn’t want to reveal our limo hump.”

  “Oh wow, does he want you to save it for the wedding night?“ She chuckled and I did too.

  “He wants to wait. He’s got this thing in his mind about the sixth date.”

  “Holy heartthrob, Batman, he is serious about you!”

  “I haven’t even known him for twenty-four hours. What makes you think that? It makes no sense to me.” My inner world felt like a ping-pong match. On one level, talking about it, and sharing this with Aisha, made it seem more real. But hearing myself reminded me how bizarre it all was. I was bouncing between my desire to see where this is going and my cogent mind telling me it was all ridiculous; that love cannot be rushed to a finish line to make a full moon deadline; that fooling around with a client would mess up my life plans.

  “Sometimes things just happen really quickly between couples,” she assured me. “I’ve seen it. You plan your life a certain way, and love shows up and things change.”

  “Yeah, you’ve seen that in all the romantic comedies you watch.” I had to chuckle. “I can name about ten right now that had a meet-cute, a crazy conflict, and a big kiss at the end.”

  “True, but I’ve seen it in real life. It can happen.”

  Aisha and her brother were born here, but her parents hailed from India—a culture where arranged marriages were the norm, and they still were in many families. Although her parents would never force her to marry, they felt it was their duty to find a proper Hindu guy for her consideration.

  “My mother was promised to my father, and she tried to run away. But her family found her and brought her back,” she said, sitting upright in her chair. “Her grandmother tried to tell her they had found the perfect mate for her, and she couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to marry.”

  “Wow, your mother was the original runaway bride?”

  “I love that movie!” Aisha continued, eyes lighting up. “She kind of was.”

  “So how did your grandmother get her back on track?” I moved closer to the edge of my desk, elbow on the surface, and rested my chin in my hands to listen.

  “I believe it was fate at work,” she said, extending her arms to the heavens in a pose that was part Disney princess and part Vanna White. “She didn’t meet him until the wedding day, and when they removed the cloth placed between them at the wedding altar and she looked into his eyes, she says she knew he was her true husband. He had been just as scared, but he knew it too. They married under the pressure to fulfill their family duty, but they ultimately felt destiny brought them together. That was thirty-six years ago. I still catch them making out in the kitchen when they think no one is around.”

  “You’re so lucky to have good role models for love,” I said.

  “It can happen, Allison. For you too.”

  By now I was in a puddle of tears on top of my puddle of arousal. Aisha happened to walk into my office at the right moment. I’d needed to talk to someone about the whirlwind that began on the elevator the night before, to get some perspective. And her tale about her parents was sweet—although it would take more than one love at first sight success story to sell me on the idea of fate.

  I thought it was completely possible that a man could want to fuck me on first sight—but it was difficult to believe he’d want me to be his wife after one kiss. My jaded perspective aside, I appreciated Aisha’s attempt to win me over to her belief in happily-ever-after. She was a cheerleader for love. “Thank you, my friend. I have no idea where this speeding ro
cket is going, but I guess I will try to be brave enough to stay aboard.”

  “Every woman at the party last night, myself included, would think you are insane to not give this a chance, but I doubt anyone would be mad if you threw a billionaire back into the singles’ pool,” she said with a chuckle. “Especially Sheila. She seemed set on keeping him to herself.”

  “Oh God, Sheila. She obviously cannot get the memo that he and I are involved. If she catches on that I’m dating a client, all my plans for moving ahead and getting my dad’s company back will be fucked.”

  “You could refuse to take this any further with Nicolai,” she said, a mischievous look in her eyes.

  “In theory, this is true. But you don’t know Nicolai’s persuasive ways.”

  “Yes, I would imagine he doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. But I would also imagine that is exactly how it would have to be with you, Ms. Independent. My guess is he’d have to come up with a clever work around to get through your defenses.”

  Everyone seems to have my M.O.

  Chapter Ten

  At a quarter to five, I went to the bathroom to freshen up, check my makeup, and confirm that my hickey was hidden by my jacket and hair. I also breathed into a paper bag for a minute in an attempt to relieve some tension. Then I headed to the boardroom to set things up in advance, leaving word with the front desk to have someone show Mr. Petre to the room.

  My whole body was on alert as I waited, trying to look busy.

  When he came in with his team my heart fluttered. One look at him and I could feel moisture between my legs. The connection from last night, the one he described as the force between us, was still there. It was strong. It was palatable. I hadn’t even known him a full twenty-four hours, yet my body seemed completely connected to his.

  He was wearing a navy-colored suit that was so beautifully tailored to his form that I couldn’t take my eyes off him. No one in the room could. He was flawless. His classic Egyptian-blue gingham dress shirt, with contrasting white collars and cuffs, and dark silk tie, made him look like a movie star playing a super-hot businessman. His light beard was perfectly trimmed. His eyes came alive with his body swathed in that color palate, and especially, it seemed, when he saw me. He offered a sexy smile of acknowledgement, just for me, before anyone could see.

  “Ms. Monroe,” he said, taking my hand and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss. “So lovely to see you again.” He gave me that sexy wink, again.

  I hoped the fluids of my arousal would not start flowing down my leg.

  He bent his mouth to my ear and whispered. “You smell so delicious today. You are happy to see me, yes?”

  “Yes,” I admitted, struggling to maintain my professionalism. When I looked up, Sheila and two others on her staff had entered the room. The meeting had begun.

  I sat by the laptop at the end of the boardroom table, close to the projector screen, to drive the PowerPoint. Nicolai unbuttoned his suit jacket and took the seat across from me. I was painfully aware that my nipples were erect and that Nicolai was looking right at them. The chill from the air conditioning wasn’t helping matters. With all eyes on him, I hoped no one would notice where his gaze was wandering.

  He gave the directive to start. “Please proceed, Ms. Monroe.”

  I looked over at Sheila, knowing she thought of this meeting—and all meetings—as her show. It was her habit to position herself, at the start of a meeting, as the person responsible for everything that went well. Her surprised look was quickly replaced with a fake smile but she was not going to be happy about him giving me the go ahead.

  “Yes, Allison, please get this started.” She said it as if it were her plan all along. After that, she kept her mouth shut, but I could feel her displeasure coming in my direction like a million tiny darts of anger.

  I proceeded with the presentation. I was focused and got the job done, but it was a twenty-minute blur.

  Thank goodness it was a successful launch and we’d had great results last night. Thirty media outlets had attended, twenty had ordered loaners of the product, and a mix of tech bloggers and publishing reporters from The New York Times to CNN said they would be reporting on it when the product went live next week. In the PR world, this was great.

  The next step was to get the device into the hands of the readers. I outlined our social media strategy for that, and our plan to win favorable reader reviews. I was actually very proud of my work on this product, and I had ideas for making it a success in a very competitive US market as well as other markets. Even though Sheila had told me to keep my mouth shut, I decided to run my idea by Nicolai and his team.

  “You know, Mr. Petre, romance readers truly love their alpha heroes,” I pointed out.

  “Is that so? Enlighten me, since this field is new?” he asked. “What do women love about alpha heroes?”

  You could hear a pin drop as he awaited my response with a slight smirk on his lips. I wonder if they noticed he asked about women in general and not just readers.

  “Well, of course, they love their heroes to be fully assured of themselves, and to be take charge leaders,” I said, sharing the first things that came to mind. “To never worry what others think, and to follow their dreams as they seek achievement.”

  “And what else,” he asked, his voice smooth and low, as if he was in a bedroom not a boardroom. “I’m curious to know, Ms. Monroe.”

  “I believe readers find eye contact extremely important, “I continued. “And when they read, they can almost feel themselves lost in the hero’s eyes, or maybe they want to see love in those eyes.”

  “So a woman can tell a lot by the way a man looks at her? That’s good insight for us to have.” His gaze touched mine from across the table. I got lost for a moment before remembering to bring it all back to my point.

  “Romance readers are a special consumer, and they especially like when the handsome, sexy men that are featured in the books come alive on their social media pages,” I continued. “I wonder if you might consider having one particular model associated with the campaign and with the brand.”

  “Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “Um, well, yes.” Him. But I couldn’t say what I was thinking of in front of everyone. “We can come up with some suggestions.”

  “That’s a genius idea for social media.” His team all nodded and agreed. Sheila looked pissed. “In fact, my cousin is a professional model. Maybe he can help.”

  I could hear an excited murmur in the room from the other women, and imagined they were all thinking: Oh my God, he has a hot cousin too—and he is a model! I was more excited that he was validating and supporting my ideas. Aisha, being our official hot man-researcher, pursued it a little further.

  “What kind of modeling does he do?” I guess she wanted to know if he was Dolce and Gabbana or the Macy’s catalog material. “Have we seen him in anything?”

  “He’s in a big high fashion campaign right now,” he said. “I’ll have his agent send over the details. I can tell you, from observation, women find him very appealing. But you’ll have to take a look at him and see if you approve.”

  “We would all love to meet him,” said Aisha, blushing, and twisting her hair around on her finger.

  “In due time,” he said, turning from her and casting a glance my way that made it seem like a personal invitation to meet his family.

  Nicolai kept a steady stare on me throughout our meeting, and I’m pretty sure I kept a steady blush. Or was I flushed? I somehow got through it, sounding intelligent about the project, but inside I was melting. Despite my concern that others would be able to sense there was a romance in their midst, it apparently went well.

  At least Nicolai seemed to think so, based on his enthusiasm. But I had to wonder if his desire to win me over was spilling into business. Was he pretending to like my ideas?

  “Well, Sheila, I am very happy with what you and your team have done. Great start for our launch.” He was kissing up to her instead of giving
me all the credit. Smart. As much as I was weary of managing Sheila’s high maintenance ego, his response showed me he knew how to work her.

  “We’re so happy to pleasure you,” she said. “I mean, please you… Happy that you are pleased.”

  Jeez, I guess everyone gets flummoxed in his seductive presence.

  “That will be all for now.” He got up from the conference table. “But I may need someone on your team to come to a meeting tomorrow to share this with the rest of my staff so they are apprised of our success and game plan.”

  “Of course, I would be happy to—”

  “—To send Ms. Monroe. Yes, that would be perfect since she is the lead on this account.”

  Crap. So much for his treading gently on her ego. I have to admit, it made me hot to see him take control like that. He was so commanding about it, there was no way she could balk. I watched her face turn six shades of red and recognized her disappointment-to-annoyance facial expression, as I have seen that look so many times. But she submitted to his wish. “Of course, Allison, please clear your schedule tomorrow.”

  I looked over at Nicolai. He tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow, awaiting my response.

  “Yes, of course.” Jeez, he got me a hall pass out of work. I felt like a teenager cutting school with the high school bad boy.

  “I’ll send a car for you in the morning.” He rose from the table, re-buttoned his suit jacket, and nodded his good-bye to me. He didn’t give my boss a second look.

  Sheila’s glare in my direction let me know she wasn’t happy. As he headed out the door, she leaped out of her chair and followed him.

  I just sat there, afraid the deluge of lust that could not be contained by my non-existent panties would end up on the chair beneath me. His presence in the boardroom, my lack of underwear, and his public selection of me over Sheila—it all conspired to rev up my passion. I waited until everyone cleared out to get up. Then I grabbed my purse and went downstairs, where Nicolai’s car awaited me.

  When his driver opened the door I was surprised that Nicolai was nowhere in sight.