The Alpha Billionaire Club Trilogy (39 page)

M
y clandestine trip
to the file room had gone according to plan, if not with seamless perfection. Almost losing the USB drive could be counted as a fail. But I'd gotten what I needed, and that was the important part. After that, the rest of my day went to hell. My afternoon was filled with straightening out an employee's health insurance mix up and listening to five employees, one after the other, complain about the emotional stress of having to listen to the details of two other employees' private life. The two other employees in question were the same pair Allison had been talking about in the file room. There was a good reason you weren't supposed to sleep with your coworkers. Well, there were a lot of good reasons you shouldn't sleep with your coworkers but in my opinion, the most important was that office affairs were a huge pain in the ass for the Human Resources Director.

I called Agent Tierney as soon as I finished putting together the envelope for Summer. I planned to drop it in the mail before I met with him. He knew nothing about Summer, and I wanted to keep it that way. I doubted I'd ever need those backup files, and there was no reason she had to get dragged into this. At least not any further than I'd already dragged her. But Agent Tierney couldn't meet me to take the USB drive. He said he was out of town on a case, there was no one else he trusted with my evidence, and he could meet me at lunch-time the next day.

So close… The USB drive felt like it was burning a hole in my briefcase. Now that I had what I hoped was the final piece of evidence they'd need to put together a case against Mr. Harper and the Russian mob, I just wanted it out of my hands. I couldn't believe I had to keep it one more day. The afternoon stretched into eternity. I texted Adam to let him know I was free for dinner, so at least, I had that to look forward to. Once I was done with Agent Tierney and the FBI, I was going to put some energy into this relationship and figure out what was going on with Adam Stewart.

By five o'clock I was exhausted, my head pounding, and all I really wanted to do was drink a big glass of wine and go to sleep. For the first time since we'd met, I wasn't looking forward to Adam coming over. He was there when I got home, standing at my door, carrying a bag of take-out from my favorite Chinese place. When the elevator opened, he looked up, his dark eyes warming as they met mine, then narrowing in scrutiny.

"You look beat," he said, stepping away from the door to give me room to unlock it and let us in. "Long day?"

"Day from Hell,” I said. Once inside, I hung up my coat and put down my things, eager to get out of my work clothes if I couldn't collapse on my bed and take a nap. Before I could say anything else, Adam pulled me into his arms, taking my mouth in a sweet, slow, uncharacteristically undemanding kiss. His lips left mine and brushed across my temple as he tucked my hair behind my ear.

"Why don't you go change into something comfortable. You look like you need a glass of wine and a foot rub."

See? This is why I couldn't break up with him even if he might have a secret girlfriend. A glass of wine and a foot rub from a thoughtful super hot guy was exactly what I needed. Somehow I knew he remembered that my favorite Chinese food was spicy orange chicken just like he'd remembered to order from my favorite Chinese restaurant. Adam Stewart was crazy hot, amazing in bed, and very sweet. All of that also made him a little scary.

It didn't take me long to strip off my pantsuit, kick off my flats, and change into a comfy but cute pair of yoga pants with a matching camisole and hoodie. It wasn't the most flattering outfit in my closet, but it didn't look too bad, it was ridiculously comfortable, and the deep lavender shade looked great with my eyes and hair. I was exhausted and frustrated, but I still wanted to look good in front of Adam.

My wine was poured and my food plated when I got back to the kitchen. Adam led me to the living room, carrying both of our plates, where he had a movie paused on the TV. We got together fairly often to Netflix and chill, which meant we didn’t end up watching a whole lot of Netflix. This movie was one we’d both talked about wanting to watch and never got around to.

"I thought we could eat in here," he said, handing me my plate as I sat down.

I'd never eaten my lunch and, at the smell of the spicy orange chicken, I realized I was starving. I dug in, ignoring everything but my dinner until the hole in my belly was filled. When I was done, I put my plate on the coffee table and picked up my wine, sending Adam a grateful smile.

"That was exactly what I needed. Thank you."

"Tell me what was so awful about your day," he ordered, spearing a piece of beef with broccoli on his fork and lifting it to his mouth, one eyebrow raised. I couldn't tell him all of it, obviously, but he’d probably think the employee relationship drama was funny.

"I swear,” I said. “My job is fairly boring most of the time, but every once in a while…We have two employees, married employees, but not to each other. Sometime in the last few months both of them decided life would be more exciting if they started hooking up. I'm not going to give you too much description because you're eating and I don't want to spoil your appetite, but let me just say that these two employees are the last two people you ever want to envision hooking up. Or doing anything that would involve taking off their clothes."

Adam laughed and said, "I don't care if I’m eating, now you have to describe them to me. Whatever's growing in my imagination has got to be worse than reality.”

"It's just that she’s about five feet tall and maybe weighs ninety pounds. And she looks like she's sixteen. He's passed fifty, and he's a big guy. Over six feet and definitely over three hundred pounds. I mean, I don't even know how that works. And he's got this long greasy hair that I don't think he's washed since the 70s. She always has food stuck in her teeth and really bad breath. Her coworkers leave mints on her desk, and she just throws them away."

Adam put his plate down, still laughing, and said, “Well, everybody deserves love."

"I very strongly believe that's true," I said. "But these two already picked their soul mates. He's been married for three decades, and I bought her a wedding present last summer. Besides it is very much against company policy to have sex at the office. I'm sorry to tell you that they were caught on camera."

"Did you have to watch?" Adam asked, laughing so hard at this point the couch was shaking. Before I could answer, he reached down, picked my feet up off the floor, and sat back, tucking them into his lap. He rolled my big toes in his strong fingers and I let out a moan of pleasure as I answered.

"Not all of it, but enough. More than enough. I think my retinas were seared from the horror."

"So you had to deal with them all day?"

"No, that's the worst part. They've been dealt with already. A formal reprimand, both put on action plans, kind of like being on probation. Done and done. What I had to deal with was a never ending stream of their coworkers coming into my office to complain about the trauma of the affair when they were really just looking for dirt. Sometimes I think gossip is a basic human need, like shelter and food and sex. People are incapable of minding their own business, and it drives me nuts. I mean, these two already completely messed up their lives. Their jobs are in danger, not to mention their marriages. Do we really need to pick them apart during office hours too?"

"That really sucks," Adam said, shifting his hands so he could squeeze and press my heels. It felt so good I could've lain there all day. I took a sip of wine and closed my eyes. “I’m glad I don't have to deal with that kind of thing in my office,” he went on. “My team doesn't gossip."

I gave a little snort and opened my eyes again. “What? App developers don't gossip? I don't believe that. And don't tell me it's because you're all guys though you probably are. Half the gossipers coming through my office are guys."

Adam made a funny sound in his throat, and I looked at him, surprised to see a slightly panicked expression in his eyes. "What?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Nothing," he said. "And we're not all guys."

"Yeah? How many women are on your team?" I asked. "I've read all about gender issues in tech hiring. Are you saying your company is the exception?"

"Not exactly," he admitted. "But we do have a few female programmers. And I promise we don't give them a hard time."

"I bet," I said, not convinced. But his hands were working magic on my feet, my stomach was full, I'd had half a glass of really good Reisling, and being on the edge of panic all day had exhausted me. I didn't want to get into an argument about gender inequalities in the tech industry. That would just lead into a bigger conversation about differences in pay, the way stay-at-home moms got shafted, the way working moms also got shafted, how ridiculous it was that child care wasn't a deductible expense – a complaint I heard often – and a whole host of other topics on which we probably wouldn't agree. I didn't want to talk anymore.

I'd never thought of my feet as an erogenous zone, but Adam's touch had reminded me that there were better parts of me he could rub than my feet. I set my wine on the coffee table and swung my feet off his lap. Before he could react, I jumped him, straddling his hips and kissing him, burying my fingers in his short, silky hair and pulling his face to mine.

I didn't get to be in control very often. I liked it that way with Adam, so I wasn’t complaining, but just for a few minutes, I wanted to savor being in charge. I didn’t often get the chance to make the first move. Adam’s mouth opened, his tongue stroking mine, his head tilting to deepen the kiss. It wasn’t long before his palms closed over my ass and he squeezed, already taking over despite letting me be on top.

I lost myself in the kiss. This was what I needed after such a miserable day. Not the wine or the food. Adam. Just Adam. In the back of my mind, I was waiting for him to pull back, to give me an order and take charge.

Instead, he rolled to his feet, holding me in his arms. I wound my legs around his waist and kept kissing him. Adam carried me to my bedroom and lay me back on my bed, saying nothing as he broke our kiss and slowly, deliberately, stripped off my clothes. His dark eyes raked my body, lingering on my naked breasts, then my full hips. His fingertips trailed over my skin, following the path of his eyes, his touch almost reverent.

He left me there, naked, laying at the edge of my bed, legs hanging down, knees parted. He took off his own clothes in the same slow, deliberate way he’d undressed me. I ached for his touch. I ached to touch him. His body was revealed in parts, each one beautifully male.

I loved his shoulders, broad and muscled but not bulky. Ditto for his arms. He was strong, strong enough to pick me up like I weighed nothing, but his muscle was compact and lean. Unbelievably sexy. And I could lust after his ass all day. I wanted him inside me, my knees pulled back and my hands on that ass, my nails digging into the hard muscle as his cock filled me over and over. At the thought, I let out a low groan and my knees fell a few more inches apart.

That was all it took. The last of Adam’s clothes hit the floor and his body covered mine. He pulled me with him, dragging me back until we were sprawled in the center of my queen size bed, his hips pushing my legs wider to make room for his body. He rose up on his arms and looked down at me for a frozen moment before I felt his cock press past the gate of my pussy.

Unable to help myself, I tilted my hips more, taking him deeper, needing to feel him all the way inside me. I gasped at the stretch, and he gave me what I wanted, thrusting to the hilt. He fell on top of me, growling into my ear, “I fucking love your body. You feel so fucking good. So tight. Your fucking pussy’s so tight.” He thrust harder, his breath coming in harsh pants. “Fuck, Emma, you’re so soft. So perfect. I’m not fucking giving this up. I’m fucking keeping you. I don’t fucking care.”

His words spun through my mind and fell away. Adam rarely spoke during sex, at least not unless he was giving me orders. He wasn’t one of those guys who needed to hold a running commentary on what we were doing. Which was good because once he got me naked, I couldn’t seem to pay attention to anything but the raw sensations of his body inside mine. Tonight was no different.

I pressed my knees tighter to his sides and rocked up into him, meeting every thrust with one of my own. I always wanted Adam. But after my tense, awful day, after months of worry and stress, I just wanted this. Adam fucking me, taking pleasure in my body and giving me the same with his own. I tried to hold off my orgasm. I wanted to stay where I was forever, to feel Adam’s chest rubbing my hard nipples, his cock moving inside me for hours. I tried to wait, but he must have been on the edge and ready to come himself because he took my mouth in a hungry kiss that drove my head into the mattress and demolished all my resistance.

Orgasm roared through me, I arched my back, caught in a wave of hot pleasure that blanked my mind completely. Adam’s hips jerked into mine, hard and fast, and he came with me, his groan of release mixing with my higher pitched scream.

He stayed where he was for longer than usual. By the time he rolled us to our sides and slipped away, I was already falling asleep. I barely felt him clean me up and pull the comforter to my chin. I had just enough time to wonder if he was leaving before I gave in to the exhaustion pulling at me and passed out.

F
uck me
. I was fucking the whole operation up. I’d slipped and mentioned the team to Emma. I hadn’t even realized it at first. The conversation hadn’t felt like part of the job. It had felt real, like I was her boyfriend and we were relaxing after a long day, telling each other stories about work while we ate takeout.

Not like I’d slipped a dose of sleeping meds in her wine and was about to fuck her until she passed out so I could search her apartment for evidence she’d committed a crime. She’d jumped me after only drinking half the wine, which wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t relying on the drugs, they were just a way to keep her out a little longer than usual. I didn’t need her waking up while I was searching her place again. I could have gotten her to finish the wine if I’d needed her to.

Who the fuck was I kidding? The second her soft breasts pillowed against my chest and I had her ass in my hands, I was done for. She’d never taken the initiative like that. I knew Emma liked it when I was in charge. Taking control of her sexually was part of the way I’d hooked her so fast. It was only a side benefit that I liked it just as much as she did.

But her making the first move had knocked me sideways, and I’d lost control. Lost it all the way. Talking during sex? That kind of shit got men killed. Women too, if they were in my line of work. It was sloppy. Stupid. And for some reason, I hadn’t been able to help myself. Emma had been so fucking gorgeous lying back on her bed, her soft, round, lush body mine for the taking, her eyes heavy with desire as she’d watched me strip. She’d spread her knees, I’d caught the gleam of moisture between her legs, and my brain had taken a back seat to my cock.

I liked Emma, I liked her a lot, more than I should. My cock fucking loved her. I’d let it take control, it had buried itself inside her tight, scaldingly hot pussy, and what was left of my brain had leaked out of my ears.

What the fuck was I thinking telling her I was going to keep her? I couldn’t keep her. Best case scenario she was about to lose her job, everything she owned, and would probably have to leave the state. Worst case, she was going to jail for a long time. I’d thought about helping her with a lawyer, but I couldn’t even do that without working against my own client. And I doubted William Harper was going to agree to let me help the woman who’d been selling out the company his grandfather had founded in nineteen twenty-three. Once I was back to being Axel Sinclair, Emma Wright was untouchable. I would have to walk away and let her drown in the mess she’d made. I knew it in my head, I just had to convince my dick.

That was my shit to deal with. And I would. Later. While Emma was still passed out in her bed, I had to get back into her laptop and pray there was something I could use to end this charade before I managed to really fuck it up. I’d gone through the files I’d found the night before, but they’d been useless. What I’d hoped was proprietary information was actually just confidential personal data on Harper Shipping employees. Exactly the kind of thing the head of Human Resources should have had on her company laptop, and exactly what she would have stored in an encrypted file.

I took a second to listen to the quiet apartment, then got to work. For the first time since I’d sweet talked my way into Emma’s apartment, I hit pay dirt right off. A USB drive was tucked into a discreet inner pocket of her briefcase. Ignoring the fine tremble in my hands, telling myself it was anticipation and not dread, I popped open her laptop and plugged it in.

Bingo. Pages and pages of shipping contracts with job dates, client info, including bids. Schematics for the new line of refrigerated trucks Harper had told me they’d been working on. And company cell phone records. I’m not sure how they fit in, but the data on the clients, contracts, jobs, and the schematics was more than enough to hang her.

I sat back, staring blankly at the screen, rage searing through me. It wasn’t until I saw the proof of her guilt that I realized I’d truly thought she was innocent. The whole time I’d been reminding myself I had to walk away, I’d been secretly certain she’d come out of this clean, and she could be mine. Axel’s woman, not Adam’s. Somehow, despite all my years in this job, deep down I’d been certain I’d never find anything on Emma. That I could keep fucking her, would prove her innocent, and we’d live happily ever after. Or something like that.

The USB drive and the documents on the screen tore a gaping hole through my half-formed plans of a happy ending. Emma was guilty as hell, and I was going to have to turn her in. If Harper decided not to call in the police, and I was sure he probably wouldn’t, he’d undoubtedly end up forcing a huge payoff out of Emma. She’d be ruined, her brand new MBA worth nothing. She might be better off if Harper called the police. At least, she’d have a place to live in jail.

My gut burned. My breath was strangled in my chest. She’d started this well before we met, yet I still felt betrayed, felt as if Emma had stolen from me, sold
me
out, instead of Harper. All my ill-conceived plans to help her went out the window in the face of my anger. I wanted her to go down for what she’d done. She was a liar and a fucking criminal. She deserved everything that was coming to her.

From behind me, I heard the sound of her bedroom door opening. Guess she didn’t drink enough wine. I stayed where I was, fury coursing through my veins, waiting to see the look on her face when she realized she was caught.

I wasn’t disappointed. She stood at the end of the hall, wrapped in her faded pink robe, eyes wide open and terrified. Giving her my coldest stare, I got to my feet, pulled a pair of police-issue handcuffs from my pocket and dangled them from one finger.

“Game Over,” I said, and took a step forward, ready to catch her when she ran.