Road to Destiny (Scorpio Stinger MC Book 5) (27 page)

He pulled me back into his chest, and with his hands over mine, pressed my palms into his erection.

Holy mother of...

I stopped breathing.

The elevator doors opened and I lurched forward, desperate to get out first. I needed air.

“Miss Clarke, are you mad at me? Or are you always this grumpy in the morning?” The amusement in his voice riled me further.

Yes, I'm mad as hell at you. And no, it's only
you
that brings out the worst in me.
I wasn’t usually like this. But every time Maxwell came near me, it turned me into a super bitch.

What was I so afraid of? Why was I protecting myself from liking him?

He grabbed my wrist and turned me toward him. His touch scorched my skin. Towering above me, he stared down at me. I pushed my chest forward, chin up.

Like hell would I let him intimidate me.

“Why on earth would you think that, Mr. Grant?” I shot back coolly, pretending I did
not
just rub against his hard cock. Surely he
knew
why I was angry?

“Next time, watch your balls,” I hissed.

I didn’t think he was used to women—or anyone else for that matter—answering him back so insolently. His eyes narrowed, his mouth opening as if to say something. He thought better of it, and suddenly let me go. I staggered backward as I struggled to regain my balance.

“Good luck with your presentation,” he said, his voice cold and hard. Before I could respond, he turned and strode off. I stood gaping at the back of the most infuriating man on this planet.

Oh my God
.

I disliked him more every time we met. Yet I was also turned on by him. How the hell was that possible? It was something I didn’t want to acknowledge, even to myself.

How was I going to cope with a full eight months of working for him? I shook my head, determined to shrug off all thoughts of my boss. I wouldn’t let him unnerve me. I wouldn’t allow myself to think of him in any other way than the person who signed my paychecks. I’d treat him with the disdain he deserved.

I glanced at my watch, it wasn’t long to go. I had to set up for my presentation.

It had to be goddamn
perfect
.

I’d show that prick.

“I
t gives me great pleasure to introduce Dr. Rebecca Clarke.” The applause died down and I braced my nerves to start my presentation. If only Maxwell had decided to leave. It wasn’t my lucky day.

Instead he sat in the front row, all six foot and several inches stretched out comfortably, right beside the chairman. He narrowed his eyes, and watched me with a guarded expression on his face. He stopped clapping and nodded at me slightly as if to encourage me to proceed, his eyes burning though me.

Fuck off. I’ll wipe that goddamn sneer off your face.

Somehow his gaze made me feel as if I were naked. There was no way in hell I’d let him know I was feeling unnerved and exposed behind the glass podium with his eyes trained on me. I was a goddamn professional woman and I’d show him just how much. I slanted my body away from him, fastening the button of my jacket. Throughout the presentation, I refused to look in his direction, swallowing my rising anger. I couldn’t allow him to disarm me so easily and throw me off my game.

I’m good at this, dammit.

And I intended to prove it today.

As soon as I finished, the crowd rose to their feet, clapping.

What the hell?

My chest expanded. It was my first ever standing ovation. The fire in my belly had pushed me to perform as I’d never done before. I’d put on a damn fine show, all for the benefit of my new boss, proving that I was worth every cent he was paying me. Proving he wouldn’t get the better of me. Could it be that Maxwell Grant actually brought out the best in me? 

Screw him.

Unable to help myself, I peeked in his direction. From the corner of my eye I saw that Maxwell was standing too, grinning from ear to ear, and applauding loudly.

Round one: Rebecca.

Hell yeah.

“Please join us for lunch, Dr. Clarke,” the chairman invited as I left the stage.

“Yes, please do, Dr. Clarke,” Maxwell said, emphasizing the word
doctor
, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

There he goes mocking me again. Asshole.

Before I could conjure up an excuse, Maxwell steered me toward the dining room with a forceful hand in my back. There was no escaping.

“I’m suitably impressed, Dr. Clarke,” Maxwell said, as he raised his glass, “and I’m glad you are on my team. But tell me, are you always this articulate and animated?”

“Rebecca,” I said coolly, looking him straight in the eye. I didn’t like the way he called me ‘doctor’ Clarke. That title was reserved for my clients and my family when they teased me.

“Always challenging me, aren’t you,
Dr.
Clarke?”

Arrogant bastard.

If I started a fully blazed war here with the chairman watching, I may be looking for a new contract very soon. I didn’t want to burn any bridges. Not yet, anyway.

He smiled. “Well done,
Rebecca
, that was a first class presentation. Should bring Grant Industries a few new clients.”

Oh, so that’s it then?

It was his company he was concerned about. New clients and
more
profits.

“I am proud of you. Really,” he said quickly, as if sensing my disapproval.

The man was a chameleon, one moment tormenting me, the next surprising me. He was actually smiling at me, genuinely showing pride. His hand covered mine as if to appease me. Even when he was being nice to me, he confused me. I quickly withdrew my hand, as I couldn’t bear him touching me.

His smile evaporated as he clenched his jaw. “I have urgent business to take care of this afternoon. However, I will be back in time for this evening’s cocktail party. Miss Clarke, I will meet you at 7.15p.m. in the lobby.” It wasn’t a request.

So, it’s back to ‘miss’ now, is it?

It could have been worse.

Add exasperating to the list of things I hate about my boss right now.

I
’d sent Alain a text message that I couldn’t see him tonight—
again
. He wasn’t happy, but since it was work related and the reason I was here in the first place, he had to accept it.

What I hadn’t told him was that my annoying boss was going to be there, too. Although it made me positively glow that a man as sexy and good looking as Alain, who could probably have any woman, wanted
me,
his jealous streak wasn’t something I wanted to deal with tonight.

Back in my hotel room, I drew the heavy curtains and I crawled under the sheets in my underwear for a power nap. When I woke in an hour, I’d feel revitalized and still have enough time for a long warm shower to freshen up and get ready for the cocktail evening. I hoped the speeches weren’t going to be long and boring.

The bed felt heavenly, as I stretched out, yawned and closed my eyes, succumbing to the sleep I craved. 

The sound of my name woke me with a jolt. Someone was banging at my door. The alarm clock blinked in the darkness. Seven thirty-nine. Shit, I’d slept solidly for two and a half hours. Then it hit me. I was late for the cocktail party.

The banging at the door was more insistent now. “Rebecca.” I heard Maxwell’s voice booming. “Are you in there?”

Oh shit. Angry bastard is going to break the fucking door down.

I jumped out of bed and grabbed the top sheet, wrapping myself in it as I rushed to the door. I jerked the door open, catching him with his fits in the air. 

“Rebecca,” he huffed, looking over my shoulder at the bed to see if anyone else was there. He took in my sleepy eyes and messed up hair. He drew in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,” I said, still sleep mussed. “I overslept. Jetlag.” I half smiled apologetically. I was still too sleepy to be in fighting mode.

Maxwell pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He’d invaded my comfort zone now, so I took a step back instinctively, clutching the sheet around me.

His eyes widened and his jaw clenched. “Stop fighting me, Rebecca,” he said with menacing calmness, as he took another step forward, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me toward him. Before I could protest, his mouth was crushing mine.

Searching. Hungry. Invasive.

He gripped my hair at the roots. I couldn’t move. I tried to push him off me with all my strength, letting the sheet slip from my grasp. I winced as it fell to the floor, feeling exposed and vulnerable. There was only one thing I could think to do. I bit his lip, drawing blood. With a jerk, he stopped his invasion of my mouth and instinctively stepped back.

His gaze traveled down my barely clad body, the sheer pink lacy panty and bra leaving very little to the imagination. He groaned loudly and pushed me against the wall, pinning both my wrists above my head with one large hand, palming my breast in the other, squeezing hard. I yelped.

“God, I want you.” His mouth claimed mine.

Probing. Relentless. Possessive.

I couldn’t breathe.

His tight grip was digging into my flesh, hurting. I wriggled and tried to free myself from under him, but he was too strong. His torso pushed against my chest, his knee between my legs, rubbing against my apex. The friction was...delicious.

I was getting wet. Turned on. God, no
. 

Unable to block him, I stopped writhing beneath him; it had only seemed to excite him more. Me too. I didn’t understand why it was affecting me this way.

I hate the fucker, yet I’m aroused. Shit.

I couldn’t stand it any longer. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

He stopped abruptly as if a snake bit him and stared at me.

“You’re crying.” Confusion marred his face, as if he’d never seen anyone shed tears before.

Sobs wracked my body, I was shivering uncontrollably.

“I'm so sorry, I didn’t mean to... ” With his thumb he tried to wipe away my tears, but they just fell faster. He leaned forward and kissed my cheeks, soaking up my tears.

“Don’t cry. Please...
Rebecca
.” The desperation in his voice was unmistakable. He was holding me as if I were an injured bird. What a paradox this man was. Rough and demanding. Then, in an instant, gentle and caring.

“P...please, l...leave now... ,” I stuttered. My heart thumped against my ribcage.

“Is that what you want?” he asked brusquely, hurt in his eyes.

“Yes.” I spat out.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then decided against it and turned to leave.

“And if you ever,
ever
touch me again, I will sue you for sexual harassment,” I hissed through my teeth, anger blazing, my head pounding.

I slammed the door behind him, then, leaned against it, my knees trembling. I sank to the floor. Closing my eyes, shame washed over me.

I’d wanted him to ravish me. Fuck.
What the fuck is wrong with me?

I
n the shower, I allowed the scalding water to rinse over me. I was so confused. First Julian, and now Maxwell. Why was it that married men were attracted to me?

I didn’t want that kind of relationship. I didn’t want another woman’s man. Sharing my man with another woman was
not
an option I’d ever consider.

All I ever wanted was a man that loved me and only me. I wanted to be the center of his universe,
his everything
. I wanted him to wake up next to me every morning and to come home to me every night.

I wanted him to make love to me in all kinds of ways, sometimes with tenderness and sometimes hard, but always with passion. I wanted him to be the keeper of my heart, to possess me—body and soul.

My best friend. My lover. My hero.

In return, I’d love and cherish him with all my heart; bear his children. I’d be loyal and faithful. A good wife. He’d be the axis around which my world revolved.

Is that asking too much?

Maybe for me it just wasn’t meant to be.

Was I destined to be ‘the other woman’—the one who understood when his wife didn’t? The one who laughed at his jokes, pampered him, who restored his confidence, and stroked his ego. The one he fucked long and hard, but never slept a night with. The one who was showered with expensive gifts to placate her because she could never have what she really wanted—the man himself.

No. That’s not for me. My man must hold me at night when we sleep after making passionate love and kiss me lovingly when we wake in the morning.

I wanted the fairy tale, I wanted forever...

Goddammit. Why is it so fucking hard?

Maybe Alain would be the one to finally give me all that I desired. Maybe he wanted me that way, too. My heart quickened at the thought.

At the conclusion of the conference, I had six free days before I had to start the workshops. Six glorious days to explore Paris, and, hopefully, the possibilities with Alain.

But, at this moment my soul was bruised, my spirit crushed. Alain was right; Maxwell Grant did want to fuck me. I shuddered at the thought. Shuddered at how close I came to giving in to the carnal desire he had stirred in me. I wasn’t sure what to do.

Confused, yes.

Should I declare the contract void?

I was sure Maxwell wouldn’t stop me. Hell, most likely he’d want me to leave since I had so blatantly refused him. A powerful man like him, rejected by a woman like me. His ego was probably crushed when he left to go home. Back to his beautiful wife.

Alain would never know how right he was, and would go crazy if he knew what had happened tonight. It served no purpose to stoke his jealousy. After all, I wanted to see where this relationship with Alain went.

As far as I knew, Alain was free to love me back. Unencumbered. That was what I wanted. A man that was only mine.

W
hen Alain invited me to breakfast the next morning. I decided to shake off what had happened, to put it behind me, and to make the most of the next few days. After all, Maxwell was back in New York by now. Far away. I wouldn’t need to see or speak to him for at least a week. By that time, we both would have simmered down.