It’s my last semi-pleasant thought before another screams loudly through my mind . . .
I’m getting fired.
And then . . .
Dad’s going to be so pissed at me.
Chapter 5
Colton
The sight before me would be amusing, and perhaps a part of me is chuckling inside, if it wasn’t so utterly brazen . . . and bizarre.
I’m nearly a hair’s breadth from calling on security to have this woman promptly hauled off, but the ridiculous antics intrigue me enough to find out what prompted this outrageous venture.
Admittedly, her delectable ass might play a part in that decision to wait as well, I think as I pick up one of the dozens of copies of her round ass split down the middle by a shadow that appears to be a lace thong.
I shut the door behind me, closing us both into my private space. A threat to us both, but I’m decidedly in charge here.
“Holy shit,” the blonde whispers from the floor, her legs dangerously askew.
I silently walk over and shut off the copy machine, and the whirring noise quiets, tragically ending the additions to the stack of copies in the tray.
I continue my trek, first closing the window and then sitting at my desk. I sip at my too-sweet coffee as if I haven’t a care in the world. “Clean up your mess.”
The order is cold, and I swear I detect the slightest shiver through the woman’s body. I don’t dare get close enough to help her up, knowing that would be a fool’s errand and a sure-fire way to ‘have your hand caught in the cookie jar’. An American phrasing I find rather amusing.
She huffs haughtily as she flips over, much like a tortoise who’s stuck on its back. On all fours, it almost seems as though she sways her bare ass at me in one last attempt at . . . whatever game it is she’s playing.
Seduction? If so, she is woefully clumsy and dependent on her rather pleasing looks. Or perhaps she has been sent to trap me in an unseemly situation.
Sabotage? Though she wasn’t going through my desk or personal files as a corporate spy would do. I glance at the black screen of my computer.
Maybe there’s another angle I haven’t deduced yet. Best to stay wary.
I watch carefully as she stands, pointedly wiggling her skirt over her ass as she glares at me as though this whole thing is my fault. She scrambles around the room, picking up the copies.
Mindlessly, she stacks them neatly with every few additions, automatically facing them the same direction and aligning the edges as though they’re significant. The unintentional action tells me something important about her. An attention to detail her current predicament contradicts.
As she works, she mutters to herself. “So fucking stupid, Elle. You’re going to get fired, and for what?” She throws her voice high, obviously mimicking someone. “Make your mark.” In her own sultry voice, she sneers, “Whatever the hell that means.”
Her conversation of one only intrigues me more.
Having collected all the copies, save the one in my hand, she faces away from me, her back ramrod straight, and I know she’s staring at the door and considering making a run for it.
With her not looking at me, I take the opportunity to glance from the copy I possess to the ass before me. Round, full globes that I could dent with my fingertips as I squeeze her, ones that would look quite lovely with a pink tint from a smack.
I clear my throat and my mind of inappropriate thoughts. “I could call security if you’d like. We have two officers on this floor at all times.” I sound as if I couldn’t care less. Truthfully, I’m much more interested in handling this . . . whatever this is . . . myself.
I notice her shoulders tense at the mention of security, climbing a half-inch before she drops them heavily and turns around.
“No, sir. That won’t be necessary. I apologize—”
I cut off her useless apology. “Sit,” I say, gesturing to the chairs in front of my desk.
She freezes, and after a split second where I wait for her find her courage, I slam my hand on my desk, making everything bounce. The framed photo she reset on the corner falls facedown.
Her jump is a small victory. Her sitting down as requested is a larger one.
I peruse the photo in my hand like it’s a work of art, letting her watch me visually critique her sexy buttocks.
She interrupts me, apologizing again, though this time I swear she’s batting her lashes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wolfe. I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”
“Your name,” I bark sharply, cutting her off.
“Elle Stryker,” she says, just as sharp. She might as well be giving me her name, rank, and serial number.
My heart stops as the name rings a bell. I blink, noticing the faint resemblance. On the surface, they’re nothing alike, him dark haired and her blonde, but there’s something about the intelligence lurking in her blue eyes. “Stryker . . . Daniel is your father?”
“Yes,” she answers automatically, but I can see the fear the admission causes.
But why fear? Because she’s been captured being Daniel’s insider, like his so-called bodyguards? Or fear that word of her inappropriateness will reach her father’s ears? Or something else?
A hundred scenarios play through my head, one of which says that Daniel was in on this whole bizarre incident to cause some sort of scandal that’d weaken my position with the company and ruin my chances of heading HQ2.
It’s pretty far-fetched, but the timing’s tight. If Daniel’s got a little core of familial operatives in the company . . .
Fury surges from my gut at the thought. Would he really stoop so low? I knew he was going to try to stop me somehow, but I thought he’d be honorable.
“Did Daniel put you up to this? Some off the wall attempt to try to smear me?” I demand. “Because if he did—”
“No!” Elle says bravely, raising her hand. She’s scared, very scared, but in her voice, I hear honesty. She shakes her head vigorously. “He would never! And if he knew I’d done this . . . he’d kill me.”
I open my lips to call her a liar but pause. She’s convincing. Is she right? But why else would she be in my office, carousing like a half-naked tart after a night at the pub?
The sincerity in her body and in her face stays my words.
“Then why?” I ask.
She drops her gaze, her first true yield.
“Have you ever been dared to do something so crazy that you know you should say no, but there’s a fire inside you begging you to do it even though you know it’s ridiculous?” The words are a tumble of syllables across her pursed lips.
I arch an eyebrow, baffled, amused, and intrigued all at once. “A dare? So if someone were to dare you to jump off my balcony into the canyon behind us, Miss Stryker, would you?” I ask.
Normally, I’d be certain I knew the answer to such a ridiculous question. With this woman, I’m not at all sure that she wouldn’t find a way to do it.
“No,” Elle says quietly, her stock rising in my eyes by the word. Playful? Yes. Prone to foolishness? Obviously. But at least she knows how to comport herself when necessary. “Unless you’re talking about base jumping, because then, I might do it. Though I’m scared of heights.” She shrugs like that would mean nothing if she were actually dared.