She did the same, and although her stomach protested with every swallow, as the time passed she started to feel marginally better. Once she had eaten and drunk as much as she could, she wiped her mouth, leaned back in her chair as he had done so many times, and waited for the ball to drop.
“So, you’re probably wondering why I called you in on a Saturday, and had this set-up when you came in?” He lifted an eyebrow, and she nodded.
“Yeah, it crossed my mind.” Sorcha licked her lips and noticed the way he lowered his gaze to watch the act.
“Let me ask you something, Sorcha. When you look at me what do you think?”
Was this a trick? A test?
“I’m not sure that I understand what you mean.” Her heart started beating fast again, and she shifted on her seat.
“Do I need to ask the question again? Rephrase it so that you can better understand it?” He was being a bastard again, and that was clear by the tone of his voice and this cocky fucking smirk that covered his face.
She felt her expression harden. Oh, she had a lot of things she could have said, a lot of things she had said in her mind and to Cora only. But they were things she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Rian Hartford, not unless she wanted to lose her job. “You’re my employer, and therefore I see an intelligent man that knows how to run a business.
“I see a man that took over his father’s company at a young age, made it even wealthier.” She was playing it safe, because she had no damn idea where he was going with all of this. He didn’t speak for a moment, and when he finally did he seemed angry, or at least the look on his face made her think he was.
“I didn’t ask for the sugarcoated explanation of what anyone could read in my bio. I want you to tell me what you see when you look at me. Off the record, without repercussions.” He started drumming his fingers on the table. Whether that was from nervousness or annoyance, she still hadn’t figured it out.
He seriously wanted her to call him out on the bullshit she thought about him? It seemed like a trick, and she didn’t speak for a second, and finally he exhaled roughly.
“Just speak.” He was most definitely angry now.
She sat up straighter, gritted her teeth, and narrowed her eyes. She so didn’t need to be talked to like this by some egotistical asshole that thought the world revolved around him.
He grinned, like did a full blown smile that had his straight white teeth showing, and totally changed the way he looked. “Exactly, Sorcha.”
Oh. Shit. She had totally said those words out loud. Her face heated, her palms started to sweat, and she contemplated bolting like a coward. Because wouldn’t that be the smart thing to do?
7
Rian watched her like a hawk about to swoop down and capture her in his talons. “I’m not going to fire you, Sorcha. In fact, knowing what you really think is very refreshing.” He grabbed the bottle of champagne, took the two flutes that sat on the tray beside it, and filled them halfway. He then grabbed the orange juice, and made mimosas before handing her one. Alcohol was the last thing she wanted, but the hair of the dog and all that.
“You’ll feel better.” He tipped his glass back, drank some, and watched her over the rim of the flute.
She took a long sip, and she did admit that after it was all said and done she felt marginally better as well.
“I am a cocky bastard, Sorcha, and can be cruel and unyielding when the time calls for it.”
She downed the rest of her mimosa. “We’ve eaten, had some drinks, so if you could please tell me why I’m here…” She swallowed, hating that she felt nervous like this. It was an uncomfortable sensation that made her feel not like herself. Whenever she was around Rian Hartford she felt weak, on display, and when he stared at her so calculatingly it was like there was no secret that she could keep from him.
But she didn’t tell him how she felt, didn’t show how unsteady he truly made her. Sorcha put up a wall of indifference and discontent, because when it came to a man like him there was nothing that was left out in the open.
He was authentic in his emotions, in his feelings and how he acted. He displayed his innermost basic urges that made a human what they are. And although they made him a bastard, a hard and unrelenting man, there was a part of her that could appreciate that side of him.
“Timothy,” Rian said in a raised, yet steady voice. A second later the cook entered the office again, cleared the dishes and food off the table, and then left them alone. “You’re anxious now to hear what I have to say, but I have a feeling you won’t feel the same way once you know my intentions.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, just stood and grabbed a manila envelope off of his desk. He faced her again, and then set the envelope on the table in front of her.
“What’s this?” she asked, but reached for the envelope and pulled the papers out of it before he responded.
“A proposition, Sorcha.”
She glanced up at him and watched as he moved back to his seat and sat down.
She looked back down at the paperwork, scanned the first page, and felt her heart drop to her stomach. “A proposition.” She stated it to herself. “This is a contract.” She stared at him again, offended, slightly appalled, but most of all curiously aroused as a few of the words in the contract jumped out at her.
“It is.” He leaned forward, clasped his hands on the table in front of him, and looked her dead in the eye. “My image tends to get tarnished because some of my past sexual partners go to the media, thinking they are somehow hurting me.”
She swallowed, and knew what he was talking about. Sorcha had seen the news, read the tabloids about some of the women he had screwed, a few of them coming forward because they had been scorned. Every woman wanted to be with Rian Hartford. They wanted to know what it was like to have him over them, thrusting into them, and showing them that the dominance he had was also what he used in the bedroom. Sorcha included. She wasn’t into BDSM, but didn’t know if that was what he was implying with this contract. But what she did want to try, what she’d even thought about on a few occasions, was how powerful he truly was behind the exterior he presented.
But what always turned her off was the fact that Rian was an asshole, a big-time douche-bag at times, and because of that she had put all desires she had to the back of her mind. She wasn’t immune to his charms, to the way he looked, or the fact that he screamed sex appeal. But she was smart and refused to be another one of his slutty office romances.
“But I want you, Sorcha.” He stared at her so deeply that she tightened her hold on the papers.
Could he hear her heart beating, see it in her neck? She felt like her heart would burst right through her chest. “You want me?” Had she said that out loud, or just thought it?
It took him a moment to answer. “Yes. I want you really fucking badly, in fact.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
She had never heard him swear. Rian was always so in control that cursing almost seemed like a waste of time for him, or at least that was what she had assumed given the way he acted and held himself. Looking over the contract, she took note of the key points. It was only two pages, but God, it seemed like there was so much more to it than that.