Anne Marsh - Off Limits / Ruled

This isn’t right. It’s not us. He sleeps with other women and, sure, he flirts the heck out of me, but that’s harmless.

This doesn’t feel harmless.

The music slows and I slow with it, putting some space between us with what I tell myself is relief.

‘Get me up to speed on the New York situation,’ he says.

‘I intend to.’

I’m snappy because I’m uncertain. I’m completely wrong-footed by his nearness, his touch, and my own desire for him is swamping me. I need a minute to regroup, but his fingers are giving me no time. They’re throbbing across my spine, my arse, and I am heating up by the second.

‘Tonight. Now.’

I angle my head towards Wolf unconsciously. He’s still locked in conversation. I have no intention of going home with him, and yet I resent Jack’s implication that I don’t have a life of my own.

‘It’s not urgent.’ My words are stiff. ‘It’ll keep till tomorrow.’ And I force myself to pull completely free of Jack’s grip.

It’s the equivalent of grabbing a lifeline from the side of a sinking boat. It’s slippery, and I’m pretty sure I’m not strong enough to hold on to it for long enough to save myself. Drowning is inevitable.

‘I want to hear about it tonight.’

It’s a challenge. A gauntlet. He gives me a lot of latitude in my job because he knows how much I do. And I do it well. But at the end of the day he’s my boss, and I don’t know if anything is to be served by refusing him this request.

‘Fine,’ I say with a shrug of my shoulders. But I’m not going to let him think he’s won. ‘I just need...twenty minutes.’

I disconnect myself from him and try not to register how my body screams in frustration.

I saunter off towards Wolf before I can see if Jack’s reacting in the same way.

Wolf is deep in conversation when I approach. ‘May I have a moment?’ I look with a hint of apology towards the men he’s with.

‘Sure.’ He grins at me. A nice grin. He really is good to look at. Not groundbreaking, earth-shattering, but nice.

He puts a hand on my elbow but I am leading him, walking quickly out of the ballroom, seeking privacy for no reason other than to give Jack a taste of his own damned medicine. That and to send a loud and clear message. He doesn’t control every part of me.

‘All good for later?’ Wolf asks.

I smile. ‘No, it’s not. I have to work tonight, actually. I’m going to brief Jack on the software situation.’

‘Tonight?’ He arches a brow, his voice rich with disbelief.

‘He micromanages everything,’ I explain. It’s true. ‘And he’s impatient as hell. I just want to make sure I have all the information.’

He nods, not quite hiding his disappointment. ‘Let’s recap.’

And that’s how I spend the nineteen minutes I have. Well, eighteen... I allow myself one minute to pull a bit of my hair loose from its bun and to pinch my cheeks, making them appear flushed with pleasure.

Jack is waiting for me in the limousine twenty-five minutes after I left him. I imitate breathlessness as I step inside, and enjoy the way his eyes sweep over me with undisguised speculation.

‘Ready?’

It’s not what I expected. I nod, but as I do so I feel like maybe I’m agreeing to something I don’t understand. Like there’s a hidden meaning I don’t yet know.

‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

Chapter Two

I’LL SAY THIS for Jack. He knows how to do this. Late-night entertaining is clearly his forte.

His office is dimly lit and he’s switched on some kind of acoustic guitar album that’s humming low in my abdomen. The vocalist has a husky rasp and it’s doing very strange things to my equilibrium. He mixes two martinis with a maraschino cherry in each.

I arch a brow as he hands me mine. ‘I hate cherries.’

‘Interesting,’ he murmurs, his eyes hooked to mine. ‘Why?’

I stare at it and swirl the glass, sipping the alcohol and wincing as the slightly medicinal flavour assaults my back palette. ‘They’re weird. Plasticky.’

‘Not the real ones.’

‘No.’

I swallow, wondering at the way my gut is churning and my pulse is racing. I need to bring it back to business. It’s the reason I’m here with him.

‘The server in Canada can pick up the slack, but it’s going to slow things down.’

‘By how much?’

‘Just a few seconds’ lag. It’s unavoidable, given the distance.’

‘A few seconds?’ He shakes his head. ‘There’s nowhere closer?’

‘Not that can handle this amount of data.’

He throws his drink back in one motion. ‘And Wolf thinks that’s acceptable?’

He says his name with obvious derision.

‘You think he’d go to the effort of flying out here to propose it if he did?’

‘Well, he’s banging you, right?’

I can’t hide the angry intake of breath. Sure, he’s always rude. And demanding. And I’ve learned not to give a shit. I don’t expect the same courtesy from Jack Grant that most people pepper into life. But this is too far even for him...even when we’ve been flirting all night.

‘His suggestion is professional,’ I return softly. A warning lurks in my words. Does he hear it?

Apparently not. Jack is like a cat with a mouse.

‘But you are fucking him?’

‘God, Jack,’ I snap, standing up.

His eyes follow the fluidity of my movement. They’re narrowed. Assessing. He’s reading me like a book. But I’m too angry to care. Too worked up, as well. He’s halfway to being drunk, and he’s obnoxious, and since he pulled me hard against his body I’m a bit mushy.

I hide my mushiness, though. I hide it behind a veil of anger. ‘That’s none of your damned business.’

His eyes flick to mine. There’s a lazy arrogance in his features but anger palpitates off him.

‘He works for me. You work for me. If you’re fucking him I want to know.’

‘What I do in my own time, and with whom, is up to me. Until the day it starts affecting my job performance you should just butt out.’ I jut my chin, my eyes sparking with his. ‘Got it?’

He looks calm, controlled, but I know there’s an undercurrent of emotion just beneath the handsome surface. Because I know Jack. Probably better than anyone else on earth.

‘You don’t strike me as coy,’ he says.

‘Because I’m not.’

I step backwards. The wall is behind me. I brush against it, feeling cornered and unbelievably confused and turned on by this strange turn of events.

‘So answer the question.’

‘Am I fucking Wolf?’ My question emerges as a husk in the night.

‘Yeah.’ He moves forward. An infinitesimal step. ‘You know everything there is to know about me, don’t you? So why keep your secrets?’

I open my mouth to say something snappy, but shut it again. He’s right. I know a lot about him. Not the ‘everything’ he claims, but a lot.

‘You could always lock your door if you want to be more private about your love-life.’

‘Sex-life,’ he interjects swiftly, on autopilot, and I know it’s because of Lucy that he’s so emphatic on this point.

I don’t know anything about his wife. I presume she was a nice enough person—although agreeing to marry Jack does make me question both her sanity and her judgement. But maybe he was different before she died. Maybe his bastard impulses weren’t so apparent?

‘So you’re going to live out the rest of your life like this? Moving from one woman to another, never getting to know a thing about them beyond their cup size and their sexual proclivities.’

His eyes drop to my breasts and I can tell he is assessing my cup size. Crap. My nipples strain hard against the flimsy fabric of my dress—it’s too tight for a bra, and sadly I don’t really need one.