RISK (16 page)

Ellie

"I'm such an idiot," I mumble to myself while he talks on the phone. He doesn't race off to another room to make the call. He does it right in front of me. I like it. I like hearing him asking a woman named Tilde how May is. This is his life, and he's let me inside.

He ends the call with a brief reminder to Tilde to call him if May wakes up. It's the third time he's told her that. "That was one of May's nannies. Now, explain the idiot comment, Ellie."

I wish I could. It's not about one thing, but I'm not going to tell him that. I'll just go with the obvious because dammit I should have put the clues together and realized that he didn't live in that apartment he took me to last night. "When we were in the office of your fake apartment, I knew something was up."

"That apartment isn't fake." He sits next to me again. He'd risen to his feet when he called Tilde, but he hadn't walked but a few inches from the couch. "It's real."

"You know what I mean," I say flustered. "It's not where you live."

"I own it. Many of the things I hold dear are still there."

I know he's referring to those photographs of the sailboats in the hallway. I've thought about those since he told me he moved out of that apartment. If they meant anything to him, he would have taken them with him to his new place. For some reason, they're hanging in an apartment he's left virtually untouched for years.

"The calendar was stuck at the month of May five years ago and the newspaper on your desk was open to a day from that month too. Is that when May was left in the lobby?"

The month of May. The baby named May. Wait.

"Did you name your daughter after a month?" I ask, without thinking the question through. Does it sound judgmental? I don't mean it that way. I've given some minimal thought to what I might name my kids when I have them. I'm leaning toward vintage names.

"She's named after my mother," he answers evenly. "Her maiden name was May."

I nod in understanding. "I should have realized you didn't live there when I was standing in the office. I knew something wasn't right. I wanted to ask you last night why you have the packaging from a smartphone that hasn't been sold in years on your desk."

His eyes drop to where his phone is resting on his leg. "Before last night I hadn't been to that apartment in more than a year. I have someone go there to check on it every two weeks. They dust and wash windows and do whatever else needs to be done. I gave them very strict instructions not to touch anything in the office because there are still some personal items in there. That's why it looks like a shrine to a day five years ago."

"The day May arrived?"

"Yes." He stiffens slightly. "I didn't put much thought into the move. I had other things on my mind."

An unexpected child and an entirely new life. I can't imagine being thrown into the role of parent and protector without a moment's notice.

"Why do you keep it?" I lean closer to him. "If you don't live there anymore, why keep the place?"

He shrugs as his hand slides from his leg to mine. "You could say that I'm keeping it for sentimental value."

I nod with a smile. "That makes sense. You keep an entire apartment because it has sentimental value while the rest of us just keep our mementos in a shoebox under our beds."

"Is that where I would find all of Ellie Madden's secrets?" His hand moves higher, edging the hem of my shorts. "Do you have a shoebox under your bed with all your keepsakes in it?"

"I'm not telling," I tease as I rest my hand on his leg. "I don't like showing my hand. It's much more interesting if you learn all about me piece by tiny piece."

"I'd like to learn more about what's beneath this tiny piece of material you apparently think passes for a pair of shorts?" His hand moves higher until his fingers inch beneath the leg of my shorts. They skim the tender flesh of my pussy.

I feel the weight of arousal instantly just from the softest touch of his fingertips.

"You're wet, Ellie." His voice dips, lower, throaty. Lust is there woven around the words.

I move my hand higher until it's brushing against his erection through his jeans. "And you're hard. It seems that we're even again."

"You have condoms."

I can't tell if it's a question or a statement. "You have assumptions."

"I have a raging need to fuck you." He pushes my hand around the outline of his cock. "Do you have condoms, Ellie?"

I straighten my back and huff out my answer. "No. I haven't bought any since I've been back."

"Good." He moves closer, his hand parting my folds under the tight material of my shorts. "You weren't planning to fuck either of those clowns."

"What clowns are you talk…oh, oh my God," I stutter when his index finger circles my clit.

"Spread your legs," he growls in my ear. "I'll get you off like this. I want to watch you come."

"My roommate," I whimper. "She might come home."

"It won't take long. You're close. I can feel it." His breath is hot on my neck, his lips kissing a trail to my ear. "Spread your legs, Ellie."

I do it. I know I shouldn't. If Adley walked in I'd be horrified, but his touch and the words. All of it makes me want the release his fingers promise.

He pulls his hand out and within the next breath it's down the front of my shorts. He runs his fingertip over my clit, rubbing, teasing, pressing. Every stroke of his finger, each movement is in perfect concert with my body's need.

I close my eyes as I near the crest. My hand darting to cover my mouth, to muffle the sounds I know I'll make without thinking.

"Look at me." His voice is controlled, an edge of roughness in his tone. "Let me see what my touch does to you."

I come, quickly, violently, my legs moving off the couch, my ass curving as my body seeks more. He gives it when he yanks his hand free of my shorts, tosses me over his shoulder and takes me to my bed.

Nolan

I haven't eaten pussy for that long since, truthfully, never. When I go down on a woman, I have one goal in mind. I want her to orgasm as quickly as possible. I generally settle for just one and then my pleasure becomes my priority. I'm a selfish bastard. I know it.

The lesson I learned when I first started on my personal sexual path was that you need to give the woman you're with what she wants first and then you can take. It's my prescription for success in the bedroom or any other room I fuck a woman in.

Last night it was in Ellie's bedroom. She told me which room to enter and when I left over an hour later it was with her smell and taste all over my face and hands. I licked and sucked her beautiful pink cunt until she was quivering and told me it was too much and that she couldn't take anymore. Then I kissed her goodnight and me and my hard-as-nails dick walked home hungry for more of the taste and those fucking sounds she was making. It was a squeak and a moan and a chorus of words that make no sense, but I could have listened to that all night long. I wanted to slide inside of her, but I didn't. I couldn't.

I had no qualms about fucking her without a condom. She's too aware of her surroundings not to be tested regularly. She had sex with the scummiest man whore in Las Vegas for months. She's been tested since. I'd bet everything I own on that. I'm clean too and I'm in no position to knock her up, so it's safe.

Extra safe.

It's a-vasectomy-a-week-after-May-arrived-kind-of-safe.

I was clipped for good measure after I realized that those statistics on the side of a box of condoms are real. They do fail. My daughter is proof of that.

I always played safe before May was born, always. I wouldn’t touch a woman unless my dick was wrapped and she was using birth control, but obviously one of those women, one with the same shade of blonde hair and brown eyes as May, lied to me.

The onus was as much on me as her. I fucked whoever the hell she was with full knowledge that regardless of what we used to prevent a pregnancy, there was a slim chance of conception. I'm grateful for the latex failure now, but back when I became an instant dad when I was twenty-three-years-old, I was fucking panicked. I decided that I'm a one-kid-only kind of guy and went to see my doctor.

A week later the problem was taken care of. I still use condoms, every single time, but I have the reassurance of knowing that I'm not going to wake up with another baby on my doorstep.

I bit my tongue last night when I undressed Ellie and crawled on top of her while I was still fully clothed. I wanted to tell her that I trusted her and that she should trust me. I wanted to fuck her raw with nothing between us, but I want the trust that comes with time. I'm not going to pressure her into anything. I'm in no hurry.

"You look like a cat that just ate a canary and enjoyed every last bite of it."

My head snaps up to see Crew standing in the doorway of my office. I've been here alone since early this morning.

I fell asleep once I got home from Ellie's, but then a soft touch on my shoulder woke me. It was May with tears in her eyes and a hand-drawn picture of Barney in her hands. My daughter isn't an artist although it's her goal to be one. That's the plan this week, so I bought her a package of markers and a sketch pad. Her mission before this was to be a farmer. That's why we visited a petting zoo an hour upstate. I'm all for her chasing her dreams, all of them.

My job as her dad is to make sure the route is safe while she does the exploring.

"What time is it?" I scrub my hand over my face. I didn't shave. I showered just before five this morning when May finally went back to bed.

"Time for me to break the bad news to you." He strolls into my office, stopping short of the chairs in front of my desk.

"What bad news?" I glance down at the screen of my phone. No Mayday messages have come in. It's a code Crew came up with for the three nannies I employ after May took a tumble and split her lip when she was a toddler. If they type it in a text, it means it's an emergency. If I don't respond, they contact Eda and Crew simultaneously.

It doesn't take the edge off the panic I feel whenever I see it or hear it, but it does convey the message that my daughter is in trouble in an inconspicuous way, regardless of who else is in the room.

Very few people know I have a child and her existence isn't fuel for public consumption. I don't want her picture online or her image sold to the highest bidder. The vague promise that was in the note left with May when she was an infant has kept me wary of letting anyone near her.

"You're fucked." He chuckles as he takes a seat in one of the chairs. "You're royally fucked, pal."

"In what sense?" I lean back into my chair.

He smirks. "In the sense that you have never, to my knowledge, told any woman about May. Yesterday I was here when you just put it all out there in front of Ellie."

I did do that, without a second thought. "I wanted her to know. I want her to know May."

"Since when did that become a good idea?"

Since I decided that I want her to see me in a way no other woman ever has and since I want my daughter to spend time with the most perfect example of a strong woman I know. Every other woman I have ever met is inferior to Ellie in every conceivable way. I can't deny that. I wouldn't try. "I like her, Crew. May will like her too."

"I get that." He taps his shoe against the floor. "What's going on between you two is new. It's early, Nolan. You need to wait for a beat before you take Ellie home to May."

I don't take offense. He loves May just as much as I do. To her, he's Captain Crew, her uncle. He's been there every step of the way, but she's my daughter. I get to call the shots. "When the time is right, I'll introduce them."

"There's no rush," he points out as he stands. "If this thing between you and Ellie has legs, you have all the time in the world to introduce the two of them. Pace it right, pal. Give it time. Think about what's best for May."

He's right. I know he is, but right now, after spending half my night with Ellie and the other half with my baby girl in my lap drawing pictures of our life together, all I want is for my daughter to meet the woman I can't get enough of.

Ellie

"What's going to happen to all these pastries?" I sigh heavily. "What do you do with them?"

"I assume the cleaning crew takes care of it." Eda picks up a mini donut and pops it in her mouth. She chews rapidly. "I have no idea what they do with them."

I scan the large cloth covered table that was set up by the catering company hired to feed the Matiz executives who came to the meeting that just ended. I was required to sit in so I could listen to their individual concerns regarding security. One person brought up the fact that sensitive files are being emailed through the company's internal system. I'm not equipped to address that so Matiz's cyber security expert handled it.

I only had to speak once when a woman who runs the nail polish division had a question about the new protocol I put in place regarding self-samples. I told her that the reason I outlawed them is that too many customers were helping themselves to the sample bottles. When one went missing, the sales staff used to replace it immediately with a new bottle of polish. It wasn’t uncommon for the store to run through two or three bottles a day to replace those taken.

Now, when a customer wants to paint a fingernail to see if they're purchasing the right shade, the person working the polish counter does it for them and then places the sample bottle back behind the counter. If a customer does decide they like the color, the sales associate will hand them a bottle from the display case and then either ring their purchase in or direct them to the main check-out area which is only a few feet away. It's a very simple way to cut down on the theft of the polish but one that apparently no one thought of until now. Since Matiz polish ranges from twenty to thirty dollars a bottle, the savings is significant.

"Why do you ask, Ellie?" Nolan asks as he stalks toward me. "You can take as many as you like home. I know you have a sweet tooth."

I have a sweet spot on one of my teeth, not an entire tooth. It's likely going to take me the rest of my life to work through that gallon of ice cream he brought to my apartment. Adley and I have eaten a few spoons a day since he brought it over and there's barely a dent in it. Pastries are the last thing I need.

"I wasn't asking for me."

He nods at Eda which immediately sends her on her way out the door with another donut in her mouth.

He waits until she leaves us alone in the boardroom before he touches my cheek. "Who were you asking for?"

"Do you think the cleaning crew throws them in the trash?" I count just the tarts on the table. There are twenty two. There are at least twice as many small donuts and an entire chocolate cake that no one bothered to cut into. Most of the people at the meeting took a cup of coffee from the self-serve station beside the pastry table and sat down. They didn't even look in the direction of the tarts, donuts, cake or the delicious looking muffins that appear to have candied walnuts on top of them.

When I turn to look at him, he's studying me. There's a question in his eyes, so I wait for it, but he shakes his head faintly before he looks at the table. "They don't throw them out. I take the extra food after our meetings."

"You must really like donuts and cake." My voice is soft. "You also must work out like a madman to look as good as you do if you're eating ice cream and pastries all the time."

"I don't eat them all the time," he quips.

"You ate both the butter cookies we got from the street cart."

"I did?" He pops a donut in his mouth and chews. "Jesus, I'm a rude prick sometimes."

I raise an eyebrow. "They're very good cookies. I don't blame you."

"Blame me, Ellie." He taps his chest. "Tell me that I need to make it up to you."

"You don't." I reach out to cover his hand with mine. "Just tell me what you do with all this food. I'm curious."

He lifts my hand to his mouth, feathering his lips over my palm. "It's sent to a mission in Midtown. They distribute it to the people who need it. If we only deliver pastries, like we are today, I'll arrange for something more substantial to be brought in, so the people they help will have a well-balanced meal and dessert too."

His words bring a smile to my face. "You're not rude. You're one of the good guys."

"If you see me as a good guy, I'm doing something right." His voice is quiet. "Your opinion of me matters a great deal. I like knowing that you see that in me."

"I think a lot of people see that in you." I tug my hand away from his when I look toward the corridor beyond the open door. Matiz corporate employees stream past at a steady clip, each turning to glance our way. There's a grin on every face, just as there was during the meeting. "Everyone who works here seems very happy."

"I pay them to look happy." He raises his hand, jerking his thumb back in the direction of the door. "The second I'm out of earshot, they're bitching about me."

"You don't know that." I meet his eyes. "I think people who work for you genuinely like you."

"Including you?" He lowers his hand to my waist, his fingers pressing through the thin blue blouse I'm wearing causing my nipples to furl into firm points. "Do you genuinely like me?"

I nod as his gaze falls to my blouse. "I work for Crew, but, yes, I genuinely like you."

"I can tell. We're alone so feel free to show me how much you like me." The tone of his voice lowers as he steps even closer. My body heats, the flush racing over me. The need to touch him winds through me from my core. He's taunting me with my own desire for him.

I lean in, not wanting anyone passing the room to catch my words. "I'm not sucking your cock in this conference room, Nolan."

He stares at me, first my eyes and then my lips. His fingers bite into my skin through the blouse. "Don't tease me with that mouth, Ellie. You've made me hard."

I glance down. The outline of his erection is straining against his pants. "Don't tease me with that."

"I'm not teasing," he hisses the words out. "Don't think for a second that I won't lock that door and strip you naked. I'm not opposed to fucking you on the conference table."

"I thought we were talking about you fucking my mouth."

"Jesus." He runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. "Come to my place at nine tonight. The place I took you to."

"You mean your shoebox?"

A soft smile crosses his lips. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"You said it has sentimental value, so it's your shoebox."

"I suppose it is." He steps back as someone clears their throat in the doorway behind him. "That's Miller from Marketing. We have a meeting. If he's lucky, he'll have a job when it's over."

"Don't pretend you're not a nice guy, Nolan Black." I inch back on my heels. "I'll see you at the shoebox at nine."

"Nine sharp. I'll be there waiting for you."

"I'll try not to touch myself before then," I whisper. "No promises, though. You look extra hot today in that suit."

"That mouth," he growls under his breath as I walk past him and smile at Mr. Miller on my way to the elevator.