J. Critch - A Sinful Little Christmas

WHEN ALANA STEPPED inside the elevator the next morning, she wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived at the top floor. She’d stayed in bed too long that morning, for more than an hour, willing herself to get up. For the first time in a long time, Alana didn’t want to go to work, just because she knew Michael would be there.

Since leaving the club the night before, the whole sordid mess replayed over and over in her mind. Meeting Michael in her office, having him walk into her room in Di Terrestres. She’d been so close to letting go, and having sex with him, but she’d thankfully restrained herself. Her stomach knotted thinking about the ramifications that kind of mistake could have had. Hell, it was bad enough that she’d found herself mostly naked in front of her newest employee—the one she wanted more than any man in a long time.

Alana had been so tightly strung going home the night before that not even pushing herself to the limit on her treadmill, and a session with her best vibrator, had been able to bring her any sort of relief. And on top of that, she’d been unable to sleep any more than an hour or two—all she could think about was Michael, and how easily she’d almost crumbled when presented with the opportunity of having him. Every time she’d closed her eyes, she saw Michael. She could still smell him when she crawled into bed alone…

What could she do? She couldn’t fire him without cause, as she’d been the one who’d been almost naked. She couldn’t act on their obvious chemistry; that could surely lead to a sexual harassment suit—not that she thought Michael would report her. He was clearly just as game as she was, but she had to be careful. “What a mess,” she said to herself in the empty elevator car. The only thing she could do was ignore their chemistry, ignore how much she wanted him and try to work alongside him.

That didn’t stop the twinge of anticipation she felt flutter her stomach at the prospect of seeing him, or the uncertainty of how their working relationship would play out. Would he be just as aggressive? Would they spend all their time fighting? Would Alana jump him at the first opportunity? Part of her hoped that he would have already booked the first flight back to London. But she didn’t think so. He didn’t seem to be the type of man who would just run away. She would just have to put on her big-girl panties and deal with his presence in a mature and professional way.

When the elevator arrived at her floor, the doors parted, and with new resolve, she stepped outside and walked down the bright hallway to her office. It was a surprise when she saw that Michael was sitting on the small couch in the reception area outside her locked office, beating each of her very punctual assistants to work.

Alana covered her smile with her iced Americano. She didn’t want to admit that she was glad to see him sitting there, in her reception area, his long arms stretched across the back of the couch.

“You’re here early,” she told him, making her way to her office and using her thumbprint to unlock the door. He stood and followed her inside as she put her purse and shoulder bag on top of her desk.

She caught his smile as he consulted his watch. “Seven thirty on the dot,” he announced. “I like to start early.”

Alana admired a strong work ethic. “Good,” she said, facing the large windows behind her desk. When she turned back, he was standing in front of her. Suddenly reminded of their height difference—he towered over her by at least a foot—she was forced to look up at him. He held out his right hand, as if it was a peace offering.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, frowning. “I know we got off on the wrong foot. It was my fault. And I’m sorry for taking advantage of what was definitely an embarrassing situation for both of us. I was a Neanderthal yesterday.”

“Thank you.” She shook his hand. And electricity buzzed through her. Capable hands. Strong, commanding hands. “I appreciate that. And I want to apologize as well. I wasn’t myself yesterday, either. I wasn’t feeling well, and your arrival took me by surprise. And then when you ended up in my suite…” Not finishing the sentence, she trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t like surprises.”

“I can tell.” He straightened. “We have a truce, yeah? We’ll work together in a professional manner. You are my boss, and I will remember that.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Just as long as you remember that I’m not here to run your personal errands,” he told her.

“I know that.” She had no intention of treating him like her personal errand boy. She felt he’d learned his lesson—that no matter what, she was his boss, and was completely in charge, even though she wasn’t completely sure that was true anymore. But he had showed that he was a good sport. I really like the red thing. His words still rang through her head. It was completely unrelated that “the red thing” was the sheer red lace bodysuit she’d chosen to put on underneath her wrap dress that morning. Completely unrelated , she reminded herself.

Michael cleared his throat. He’d caught her daydreaming. She looked up at him and his knowing smile. “What’s on our to-do list today?” he asked. “It is officially my first day.”

Michael was down to business. And Alana was grateful for it. While concentrating on her work, she could maintain a cool upper hand. At Di Terrestres, she was in charge, and with her to-do list looming over her, she could forget about her libido, and every hormone that screamed out to her for Michael. “I guess we can start by giving you a tour of the club before we open the doors. Then, seeing as how our conversation got off track yesterday, we can talk about my expectations and your responsibilities.”

“Sounds good to me. I hope it goes a little better than our last conversation, though.” She turned to face him and he was again wearing that cocky, knowing grin on his full lips. “I mean, I had fun, but we didn’t exactly accomplish much, now, did we?”

“What happened yesterday will never happen again. We run a professional operation here. I don’t normally let my emotions get the better of me. You caught me on a bad day. And I certainly don’t parade around in my underwear in front of my employees.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, shrugging. “It’d be good for morale.”

He was incorrigible. Ignoring his comment, she shook her head. She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s get down to business.”

“I’m all for getting down to business,” he said, winking.

Pointing a finger at Michael, Alana brushed past him. “Watch it,” she warned him, attempting to stop the smile from forming on her lips. As seriously as she took her job and the club, she couldn’t help but have fun bantering with Michael.

“Oh, I’ll watch it,” he said, making no secret of the fact he was looking at her ass. The fire that had burned between them the day before still lingered, despite their truce. She rolled her eyes, and pointed to the door. “Come on,” she instructed, walking in front of him, making sure to put a little extra swivel in her gait as she walked away.

“This is the main playroom,” Alana told him as she led him down a wide staircase. So far, she’d shown him the bar, the private rooms. The Brotherhood ran a tight, clean operation, but he wouldn’t be able to get a feel of the place until it opened later that evening. Then he could see how Di Terrestres really operated with a packed house.

Michael was relieved that while a lot of the sexual tension had remained from the night before, at least most of the animosity seemed to have evaporated. They’d reached an uneasy truce, but he knew that the fire between them remained, that it would continue to burn whether they wanted it to or not. Hopefully, he could manage not to get burned.