Engage (Billionaire Series) (5 page)

After inspecting to
his satisfaction, Philip told her to sit down.

The chair’s fabric
was soft against her skin.

“Lean back and
spread your legs.” Philip’s hand dropped to his crotch, caressing the growing
bulge. “Cup your tits.”

Jennifer blinked,
the vulgarity sounding odd coming from such a cultured man. She lifted her
hands and did as he said, the weight of her breasts familiar against her palms.

“Now pinch your
nipples.”

Jennifer squirmed.
How could he know that she’d always liked that? The moment her finger and thumb
closed on the delicate flesh, a rush of wet went straight to her pussy.

“Harder,” Philip
commanded. “Pull on them. I want to see them standing up in hard little
points.”

Jennifer responded
automatically, but even as she rolled her nipples between her fingers, she
found herself wondering why she was responding this way to Philip’s commands.
Brad had always told her what to do, but it had just made her feel bad, as if
there were things she wasn’t good at, ways she couldn’t please him. Philip’s
orders, however, were somehow different. Maybe it was his tone, strong and firm
rather than Brad’s condescension. Maybe she just found Philip more attractive.
She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was finding a strange sort of
freedom in doing as she was told, a thrill at being ordered around.

“Good girl,” Philip
said in a satisfied tone as he squeezed his now-prominent erection. “Now for
something else.” He motioned towards the desk that sat against the nearby wall.
“Bend over the desk.”

Jennifer released
her nipples, biting back a whimper as she did so. The tips were pink and
swollen, sticking out in little points. She walked over to the desk, her inner
thighs slick with her juices. As she bent over the desk, her stomach tightened
in anticipation.

“So pretty like
that,” Philip murmured, suddenly behind her. She hadn’t heard him get up. His
fingers brushed against her lower lips and she jumped.

“So pink and
glistening.” Philip sounded like he was talking to himself, but Jennifer didn’t
care as long as he kept touching her. As if he’d read her mind, Philip’s hand
ran over her ass, fingers splaying to palm one cheek. “Soft skin.” He dropped
his hand lower and Jennifer made a strangled sound. “Very responsive.” He
sounded pleased. Jennifer squeaked as Philip pushed his index finger into her
pussy. “And soaking wet,” he chuckled.

A glance over her
shoulder revealed a smirk on Philip’s face, a smile that didn’t quite reach his
eyes. He caught her watching and raised an eyebrow, twisting his finger as he
shoved it deeper.

“Ah,” Jennifer’s
back arched, eyelids fluttering. She was still sore from last night, a
pleasantly raw, used feeling that she’d never had before. Brad’s idea of good
sex had either been a few quick pumps while breathing alcohol-laced air in her
face or a rough pounding without any foreplay. That was a totally different
kind of raw, used feeling.

“Amazing how a
little exhibitionism and a few orders, can get a woman dripping.”

Jennifer sucked in
her breath as Philip began to thrust his finger into her. He leaned against
her, his cock hard and hot against her hip. Her palms, slick with sweat,
slipped on the desk and her breasts brushed against the polished wood,
pinpricks of pain traveling through her aching nipples. Philip added a second
finger and Jennifer moaned. She could feel her climax building, Philip pushing
her towards it with each stroke. She gave herself over to the pleasure,
forgetting everything but the sensation of Philip’s fingers moving inside her.
She was desperate for release.

A knock at the door
cut through the room and Philip yanked his hand away.

Jennifer gasped at
the unexpected loss, brain scrambling to process what had just happened. Her
body screamed with her need for relief, hovering at the edge. She was vaguely
aware that Philip had gone to the door, but all her brain could think of was
her interrupted orgasm.

“Thank you.”
Philip’s voice finally broke through the haze and reality came back into focus.
Jennifer straightened, suddenly and shamefully aware that she was naked. She
covered her breasts with her arm, her hand moving to the juncture between her
legs.

The expression on
Philip’s face when he turned was one of amusement. He tossed a bundle of
clothes onto the chair he’d been sitting in. “Really no point in covering up.”
He wiggled his fingers at her, two of them still shining with her juices. “I’ve
already been there. A couple of times.”

Fighting back the
instinct to keep her hands where they were, Jennifer let them drop.

“Better.” Philip
motioned to the clothes. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to clean up and get
dressed. Unless, of course, you have travel documents with you.”

Jennifer shook her
head. She watched as Philip walked over to the sink and washed his hands. She
shook her head and crossed the room to the chair. Her knees were a little weak,
but she managed to get to the bathroom with the clothes Philip had requested.

As she wiped down
her body with a damp washcloth, Jennifer tried to gather her thoughts and
regain her composure. She winced as the cloth scraped over her nipples, then
shuddered as she passed it over her pussy. If she’d had more time, she might
have finished herself off. After all, she’d had plenty of experience doing
that.

Part of her
wondered if Philip had purposefully given her so little time for that reason.
Her entire body was tense as she slipped on the panties and bra. The material
chafed her nipples and she grimaced as she reached for the silk blouse. To her
embarrassment, her nipples were still hard, visible through the bra and blouse.
She didn’t know how she was going to get through the day. The entire thing was
so surreal.

By the time she
emerged from the bathroom, Philip was waiting, jacket back on, expression
blank. The elegant tailoring was, fortunately, enough to hide his erection.
Jennifer had a momentary thought that he’d requested the design for that
purpose. He seemed to be the type of man who had a plan for everything. He
opened the door without a word and walked out of the room. Jennifer hurried to
follow. Neither one spoke on the elevator ride down to the lobby, but as they
stepped out, Jennifer spoke up.

“I need to go to my
locker and get my purse. And I should probably talk to my boss about not being
here for my shift tonight,” she heard herself starting to babble unable to
stop.

Philip cut in. “Get
your purse. I’m your boss.”

“Right,” Jennifer
blinked at the abruptness and hurried away.

When she came back,
a bewildered Todd was standing in front of an impatient Philip. Jennifer
couldn’t meet her former boss’s eyes as she walked past him and out the front
doors, trailing just a few steps behind Philip. She tried not to gawk at the
limo, but was unable to hide basic appreciation. As she settled into the seat,
she said, “I live at...”

“I know,” Philip
interrupted, pulling his smartphone from his pocket. “When we arrive, you are
to go inside and grab you travel essentials. You need to be fast. There’s no
need to pack anything. It’ll be taken care of.”

Jennifer’s stomach
was in knots by the time they reached her building and she dashed up the stairs
as quickly as her heels would let her. The keys fumbled in her hand for a
moment before she was able to fit the right one into the lock.

“Jennifer?” Rachel
Allan, Jennifer’s thirty-something roommate looked up from the counter where
she was making her late lunch. The surprise in her baby blue eyes quickly
turned to concern when she took in Jennifer’s rushed appearance. “What’s wrong?
You said you were working late and you’d already picked up the early shift for
Alex.”

“I can’t really
explain everything,” Jennifer said as she hurried to her room. “Basically, the
short version is that I got a promotion and my boss is taking me to Tokyo.”

“Wait, what?”
Rachel shook her head. “Like, in Japan?”

“No, Tokyo in
Wisconsin, silly,” Jennifer laughed as she rummaged through her dresser drawer.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she found her passport.

“Aren’t you just a smartass
today,” Rachel retorted.

“Look,” Jennifer
said already heading for the door, “I have to go. Just know I’m safe, I’m good,
and I’ll be home soon. I have my phone and I’ll call you if I need you or
anything.”

“Be safe!” Rachel
called as the door closed behind Jennifer.

Once
again, I was wearing my smartest clothes and waiting in the lobby of an
incredibly sleek, enormous building which made me feel like a mouse in the
Cheesecake Factory – tiny, out of place and a little bit envious. My awe was
starting to melt into irritation, though, as the clock slowly created distance
between the time of my appointment and the time I wanted to be out of the
office and taking a long, hot shower back at my apartment.

The
suspense of meeting Mathis again had been bad enough even before I entered the
office. Now that I was sitting here, I was painfully on edge. Ever since I had
been told that Mathis was going to be the person doing my training, I had been
remembering the time we spent together in the past. His ready smile, his sense
of humor and his seemingly inherent ability to do everything well, even if he
had never tried it before, all stood out to me.

A part
of me wondered if Mathis even felt the same way about me – if he ever thought
about me or remembered the time we had spent together. The time when it had
seemed as though he cared about me.

The
more I thought about it as I sat in this lavish, richly furnished lobby,
though, the more doubtful it seemed. Here I was, a girl who worked in a cubicle
and washed my hair with the shampoo my best friend saved for me every time she
organized a wedding at a fancy hotel. I was wearing pants from the sale section
of Target, and Mathis was a successful multi-millionaire who had risen from nothing.
He probably got someone else to shampoo his hair for him. He probably had
someone who made him his own shampoo.

It was
ridiculous to even think about the possibility that he remembered me. Certainly
after the way our friendship had ended. It was time to stop thinking about
silly things and be a grown up. That is, if Mathis ever actually arrived.

I took
out my phone and rechecked the message for the fourth time in twenty minutes to
reassure myself I had the right time and place – yep, 4pm, the Magnus Building,
Mathis
Côté’s
office on the 30
^th
floor. Except that it was now 4:35 and I was
still cooling my heels in the lobby.

The
message had been cold and impersonal, exactly like a business memo –
meet at
4pm re. investment training, don’t be late.
Don’t be late, ha! I had been
fifteen minutes early and I’d been waiting almost an hour.

“Can I
get you a cup of coffee, Ma’am?” the little mousy-haired secretary asked me
again, looking extremely apologetic for her boss’s bad behavior.

“No
thanks,” I smiled at her.

“I can
place a call through to Mr. Côté’s cell if you’d like?” she offered.

“It’s
fine,” I insisted. “I’m sure he’s a busy man.”

“Speak
of the devil,” a deep, mellow voice said behind us. We both turned around. My
face showed surprise while the secretary seemed to give a knowing nod.

It was
Mathis. There was no doubt about that. He still had that imposing presence
which made everyone in the room turn to face him. Well over six foot, his
broad, athletic build was still as lithe and elegant as ever. His tanned skin
was complemented by his crisp white shirt, not starched and boring like the men
at the lawyer’s office, but commanding and stylish, the top button undone and
his tie – if he had been wearing one – nowhere to be seen, exposing his tan,
muscular neck and just a hint of collarbone. His light brown hair was perfectly
windswept. He was exactly as I remembered him, except for two small details.

“Sorry
to burst in like this,” Mathis said, his arms around the two small details –
two leggy, gorgeous, and underdressed women in skyscraper heels with enough
makeup between them to paint the walls of the lobby. “I wasn’t expecting
company.”

“Sir,
Miss Taylor is your 4 o’clock,” the mousy secretary said in a professional
tone. She seemed unfazed by his entrance.

“Miss
Taylor?” Mathis made a show of looking around the room, his eyes finally
falling on me. “Ah yes, my after-hours assignment.” The two women on his arms
snickered, and I blushed at the double-entendre.

Although
he looked the same, his manner was nothing like I remembered. For one thing, I
had never so much as seen him look at a woman before. Not that I was surprised
– he was undoubtedly attractive, and he obviously had enough wealth to support
a whole harem of women if he felt like it. Still, something about his behavior
bothered me. He had always been so courteous to me in the past, treating me
with respect and kindness. This playboy who was openly mocking me, seemingly
oblivious to his rudeness, was a total stranger.

“Well,
it looks like Miss Taylor has been waiting some time,” Mathis sighed, looking
from one tittering showgirl to the other. “Why don’t you ladies spend a little
time enjoying yourselves? Here,” he handed the blonder of the two a credit
card. “Pick out a few outfits. I’m sure you have room in your wardrobes for one
or two more dresses, hmm?”

“But
Matty, what about dinner?” the blonder bimbo purred. A flicker of irritation
seemed to pass over Mathis’ face, but an instant later it was gone.

“I’ll
catch up to you later, Kathryn,” Mathis promised with a wide smile. “You just
concentrate on finding something suitable to wear.”

The two
women clattered off in their heels, sweeping from the lobby like models leaving
the runway.

“Now,”
Mathis said, his face expressionless now that his arm candy had left the
building. “Miss Taylor, why don’t we go into my office and get to business.”

It wasn’t
a question, and I followed behind him as he strode across the lobby towards a
broad mahogany door.

“Excuse
the mess,” he said carelessly as he opened the door for me.

It was
really difficult not to gasp. Two of the walls were sheer glass, offering a
splendid view of the city, the tall buildings and the sparkling water – magnificent
and for our eyes only. The room itself was decadently furnished with glossy
wood and stylish modern couches just big enough for one, a little too small for
two, unless you wanted to get cozy. It made me feel small and insignificant,
but it was breathtaking.

He sat
down on one of the little couches, gesturing at me to sit opposite him. All
that separated us was a small coffee table, and for a moment, I felt like we
were sitting on Uncle Andy’s porch, trading stories and eating sugar snap peas,
laughing together about the events of the day. It was on the tip of my tongue
to ask him whether he remembered that time, or any of those times we had spent
together as teenagers, but just as I opened my mouth, he leaned forward and
opened up a laptop, ignoring me entirely.

“So,
Miss Taylor, I assume you’ve been properly briefed about this business?” Mathis
asked briskly. I frowned at his continued use of my last name; in front of
other people perhaps that was proper business etiquette or something, but now
it was just the two of us.

“Call
me Amanda, please,” I said. “It’s not as if we’re strangers.”

“Amanda,
then,” Mathis said, and it seemed like he hesitated for a moment as the name
slipped past his lips. “Do you know anything about investments?”

“Mathis
– you
know
I don’t – no more than Uncle Andy taught me, at least, and
you were there for most of that,” I said.

“I’ll
take that as a no,” Mathis said simply, and I felt my heart sinking. Stupidly,
I felt as if I could cry. I wasn’t exactly celebrating the fact that my uncle
was dead, but inheriting something from a loved one should be a good thing, not
a chore. So far everyone involved had made me feel like a silly little girl. I
had thought that Mathis would be different. My heart felt like a stone as I
realized that my schoolgirl hopes of rekindling our friendship were obviously a
figment of my imagination.

“I take
it you are familiar with the basics?” Mathis asked, his entire manner expecting
me to shake my head.

“I’m an
accountant,” I told him, tilting my chin up proudly. “I think I know at least
the basics of how an investment works.”

“Hardly;
an accountant and a hedge fund manager don’t have much in common,” Mathis said,
and I felt as if his comment had punctured a hole in my lung. “I suppose we’d
better start from the beginning. You at least know the major investments you
are now in control of?”

I found
myself reeling off a long list of investments, not daring to look Mathis in the
eye – the downturn of his firm mouth was enough to show that he had no interest
in someone as ignorant as me.

“I’m
glad you’ve retained at least that much,” said Mathis. “If you can memorize
half of what I teach you, this won’t all be uphill work.”

“I am
not an idiot!” I snapped, finally tired of Mathis’s superior manner. There was
no reason for him to be acting like a dick. “I know that I’m only an accountant
and you’re worth millions of dollars, but I work hard. Uncle Andy knew that,
and you know it too. I’ll learn everything you have to teach me, and it will
not
be uphill work.”

There
was a glimmer of something in Mathis’s eyes as my outburst stuttered to a
close. It may have been anger or contempt, but whatever it was, it was more
like the Mathis I remembered than this cold, arrogant businessman in front of
me.

“The
first lesson, Amanda, is that actions speak louder than words,” he said. I
blushed, embarrassed at my show of emotion. “You work as an accountant? Are you
planning to continue your work? Your uncle left you no
small
amount of
money.”

“For
the time being, yes, I’ll be continuing my work,” I said. Once again my mind
flashed to writing – but Mathis was right. Actions did speak louder than words.
Even though I fantasized about being a great writer, the truth was, I didn’t
know if I had it in me. What if I failed? What if I simply couldn’t do it? Then
I’d just be a rich, silly woman with nothing better to do than go out to
lunches and boast about the novel that I had been writing for the last decade
that still wasn’t close to being finished.

“Very
well,” Mathis said, showing no surprise at my decision. “I’ve created a
schedule which won’t interfere with your working hours. Make sure you don’t
miss an appointment – my time is valuable and these tutoring sessions will be
taking up a good deal of it over the next few weeks.”

“I’m
not the sort of person who shows up late,” I said, with a little more emphasis
on the words than was perhaps polite.

“Excellent.
We’ll begin in two days’ time.”

Rising
from his chair, Mathis went to his desk and picked up a plain manila folder. He
held it out to me, and I reached my hand out to take it. For a moment, our
hands touched. A bolt of lightning ripped through me at the familiarity. We
both tore our hands away, and I looked up at Mathis in amazement, but he was
looking away from me, his expression unreadable.

“That’s
everything for today,” he said. “Goodbye, Miss Taylor.”

“Bye,”
I said timidly. “Mathis,” I added under my breath as I closed the door.