He’d thought telling her about Sean, about his mother, would have been warning enough for her to back off. But apparently not. Apparently that had been waving a red cape at a very angry bull.
She’d pushed him and he’d lost it. Turning her over his knee, spanking her. Then screwing her hard enough to make her scream. And it didn’t matter that she’d virtually demanded he do it to her, that kind of behavior was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid for the past five days.
He’d
hurt
her. The red marks had been there on her pale skin, and he’d hated that he’d been the one who’d put them there.
Bullshit. What you really hate is that you enjoyed every fucking minute of it.
Jax came to a halt, scowling. “No, I did not,” he said to his empty office, as if saying it aloud would make it true.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
He
wasn’t supposed to be this way. And he didn’t know how she managed to get under his skin, but somehow she did. Passionate and honest and brave. He’d never met a woman like her before. She was … addicting.
But he should have been stronger. He should have been more in control.
Dammit, he really had to put the pressure on his personal investigator to dig faster into Nick Garret’s dealings. The sooner the guy found something on him, the sooner they could break this engagement, the sooner she would be out of his life.
Are you sure that’s what you want?
Jax shut down that thought hard.
“I like it,” an amused voice said from behind him. “You always did an excellent Heathcliff impersonation.”
Jax turned to see Donovan strolling into his office and perching on the edge of his desk, eyeing him with a certain amount of speculation.
Christ, he needed to get a grip. “What do you want?”
Donovan raised an eyebrow. “Uh, you were the one who called me up here.”
Ah, shit. So he had. Fuck, he
really
had to get a grip. Jax thrust his hands into his pockets. “How are we doing with the engagement publicity?”
“Excellent, if I do say so myself. I’ve organized dinner for two at the 2nd Circle. Discrete, exclusive, but you’ll be noticed, never fear. Also I’m putting together an engagement party that will have people wanting to murder their own mothers for an invite.”
Typical Donovan. His old company used to be famous for the parties it organized. “Fine, but don’t get too carried away. Don’t forget this is only for show. We won’t be going through with it.”
His brother folded his arms. “Hey, I do have an actual, honest-to-God reason for it. If you build enough buzz, people will be excited. And if they’re excited about a party, they’ll be less likely to look disapprovingly at your choice of fiancée or said fiancée’s unfortunate family connections.”
His brother had a point. “That makes sense.”
“Of course it does.” Donovan raised a brow. “The city’s been pretty excited by the engagement news so far. I don’t think you have anything to worry about Pandora’s background affecting Morrow negatively.”
It was true. The engagement even seemed to have taken the heat off the docklands scandal, which was something.
Jax turned away, staring back out over the city. “What about Garret himself? Our sources turn anything up yet?”
“Still working on it,” Donovan said. “There hasn’t been one successful prosecution brought against him, you realize? The guy’s so squeaky clean he probably sparkles.”
“Unsurprising. He’s been getting away with all kinds of shit for years. Which means he’s probably got City Hall in his pocket.”
His brother gave a delicate cough. “You know, we’re not entirely without our own contacts.”
Well, he knew what that meant. Donovan’s morals were … loose at the best of times. Yet another reason why bringing him back to the company had been a good idea. “No,” Jax said firmly, turning from the windows once more. “We have to keep everything above board. Morrow stands for honesty and we need to be especially mindful of that with the docklands fiasco still going on.”
“About that,” Donovan began. “If you’d just hear me out—”
“No, Van,” Jax cut him off. “Morrow has to be beyond reproach or we’ve got nothing. I know you’re used to handling these things on your own but we’re a team now, understand?”
The green flecks in his brother’s blue eyes glittered, his mouth a tight line. “Yeah, a team. Sure.” His voice was flat.
Jax eyed him. “You got a problem?”
“I do when the team leader isn’t listening to his own damn team.”
“Christ, is this about those docklands plans again?” Donovan had been walking around with the biggest I-told-you-so look on his face for the past couple of weeks since the whole thing had blown up. He’d had very definite ideas about what to do with the real estate. Plans that Jax had nixed because he just wanted the damn thing sold. “We’ve been through this.”
“
You
went through it.”
Being reminded didn’t do anything for Jax’s already precarious temper. “Yeah, because I’m the fucking boss.”
“Well, far be it from me to question your authority, your holiness.” Donovan was smiling but his eyes still glittered with anger.
Jax gritted his teeth. Shit, and there he went again, letting his temper get the better of him. Making his already fragile relationship with Donovan worse. “Look,” he said, grasping for his usual detachment. “I need that real estate gone. As in yesterday. And since you feel strongly about it, I want you to handle it. The only condition being that it’s sold and sold quickly.”
Donovan opened his mouth then, apparently thinking better of it, shut it again. He slid off Jax’s desk. “Generous as always,” he said without inflection. “Sure. Anything for the boss.”
He didn’t trust the calm acceptance in his brother’s tone but at that moment, the phone on his desk went off. Cursing, he stalked over to answer it as Donovan disappeared through the door.
“Morrow.”
“You sound happy.” Pandora’s slightly husky voice was amused. “Day not going well?”
Jax sat down in his office chair, swiveling round to face the windows again. A lick of desire swept through him at the sound of her voice, bringing back reminders that weren’t particularly appropriate for the office. Of her in his lap with her dress hiked up and her panties down, the delicious curves of her ass bare. The warmth of her flesh beneath his palm. The jerk of her hips as he’d brought that palm down on her backside. The pressure against his cock as she’d squirmed, trying vainly to find a release…
No, fuck, he couldn’t be thinking this kind of shit at work. He needed to get his head out of the gutter. Now.
“The usual story,” he said, clearing his throat. “How’s that report coming along?” Since he’d taken her on as a “security consultant,” she’d been reviewing Morrow security software and had promised him a report in the next couple of days.
“It’s coming. I just wanted to know what you thought of scarves.”
“Scarves?”
“I got some today. They’re red. I thought you might like to tie me up with them.”
Another image he didn’t need leaped fully formed into his brain. Of Pandora, naked, her wrists tied with red silk scarves above her head. He forced it away, shifting in his chair at the sudden constriction in his groin. “I’m at work, Pandora.”
“Yeah, I know. Just giving you something to look forward to for when you get home. Not to mention an incentive to finish early.”
He leaned back, his jaw tight and his pants feeling tighter. Now that’s all he could think about. Leaving work and getting back to his apartment. Taking those red scarves and—
Fuck. Jax did some more shifting in his chair. She was pushing him again, like she had the day before. But he couldn’t give in again. Passion was too dangerous and if the fallout of their one-night stand hadn’t been enough, then those red marks on her butt should have been.
“Not tonight,” he said curtly.
“Oh,” she said. “Why not tonight?”
He hated the disappointment in her voice. It hurt in unexpected places. “Because Van’s organized us an intimate dinner for two somewhere nice.” She always liked it when they went out together, so maybe that would help.
Sure enough, when she spoke, her voice was brighter. “Well, that’s cool. Where?”
“The 2nd Circle. I hope you’ve got something suitable to wear.”
“Wow. Alex St. James’s club? Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve got something.”
She sounded excited now, and shit, that made him feel pleased. Pleased that he’d made her happy. Jesus, he should not be feeling this.
“Good,” he said, keeping his tone brusque. “Be downstairs by seven. I’ll have a car ready.”
There was a pause. “You’re not coming back to the apartment first?”
He wanted to. Wanted to take those scarves and tie her hands, drive himself inside her, relieve this goddamn ache. But he couldn’t. He had to maintain his detachment. Keep pulling back. Because wherever these feelings were coming from, they had to stop.
“No. I have work to do.”
Another pause.
“More work, huh?” Pandora said, a curious flatness to her tone. “I guess I’ll see you downstairs then.” And she ended the call.
Jax cursed again, tossing the phone back down on his desk.
He should
not
be feeling so guilty about disappointing her. He shouldn’t be feeling anything for her at all. But he did. Which meant he had to take some rational, logical steps toward managing the situation. Pull back and regroup.
Like stop sleeping with her for a start. That was, after all, the whole reason they were in this mess in the first place. And sex with her was the point where his control was weakest, as that spanking episode had highlighted.
Jax swallowed, ignoring the painful ache in his cock and the even more painful twist behind his breastbone.
She wouldn’t be happy but it was the best answer. The most logical answer.
Tonight. He’d tell her tonight.
*
Jax’s hand rested on the small of Pandora’s back as he ushered her from the limo to the massive black doors of the 2nd Circle, New York’s most exclusive private members club.
She shot him a glance as they approached the doors, ignoring the camera flashes from the paparazzi who’d been hanging around since the limo pulled up.
The car journey hadn’t exactly been a lot of fun. From the moment he’d come out of the elevator to meet her in the foyer, he’d been on his phone, issuing orders and discussing various business matters in a cold, calm voice. And apart from the one, searing glance he’d given her as he’d stepped out of the elevator, he’d barely even looked at her. Not that it was anything new. He’d been doing the same since he’d turned her over his knee and spanked her the day before. Both of which had hurt.
She’d thought that afternoon she’d broken through his walls, busted down his detachment, but she hadn’t. It seemed she’d only entrenched it further.
A pity when she’d put in a special effort with the dress she was wearing—going for red because it was kind of “their” color now—plus she had a special naughty surprise for him on underneath. Or rather, not on underneath. But it was like he hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared.
Why are you even bothering? He’s made it pretty clear what he expects and it’s not like you have any special feelings for him, either.
Pandora swallowed and tore her gaze away from Jax’s face. No, she didn’t have any special feelings for him. God, he was the first man she’d had sex with and what a typical virgin she’d be if she fell for her first lover. A really stupid virgin since her life of freedom had only just begun. The last thing in the world she wanted, after all, was to be trapped in yet another cage because that was pretty much where love left you, wasn’t it? Her father’s love had kept her trapped and suffocated and goddamn, heartbreakingly lonely.
The doorman smiled at them as he opened the door, his manner deferent without descending into obsequiousness.
Inside, a club manager greeted them in the reception area, ushering them into the club’s restaurant where the maître d’ showed him to their table—a round affair circled by a bench seat covered in the club’s signature deep red velvet. The table had a good view of the rest of the restaurant and yet had red velvet curtains that could be drawn around it for privacy.
She’d heard a lot about the club—one of the only private establishments her father hadn’t been able to gain membership to no matter how hard he tried—and she had to admit it was pretty amazing, with a quiet, luxurious, and very, very expensive vibe.
The maître d’ fussed around with seating them but Jax ushered him away, doing it for her instead, leaning down to lay the snowy white napkin over her knees. She could smell his aftershave, the warm, familiar scent of musk and spices, which made her heart contract in her chest. She swallowed as he spread the napkin, but his fingers didn’t touch her, not even a fingertip brushing the thigh revealed by the nearly hip-high slit in her dress.
He straightened, then slid into the seat around the other side of the table, picking up the menu and frowning over it, his expression once more as transparent as a granite slab.
Ah, screw it. She hadn’t done anything to deserve his curtness on the phone or this cold, silent treatment, and she was so done with not saying anything. “Jax.”
“What?”
“Did I contract some hideous disease or something?”
He didn’t look up. “No. Why would you think that?”
“Because you haven’t looked at me once in the past half an hour.”
Jax’s blue gaze finally came to hers. “I’m sorry. Work stuff.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been like this for days.”
He looked down at the menu again. “It’s nothing.”
At that point the waiter approached for drinks orders.
“A bottle of Kristal, please,” Jax said curtly.
“He can have the Kristal,” Pandora said to the waiter. “I’ll have a martini. A dirty one.” Once the man had gone, she said, “It’s not nothing. Talk to me.”
His jaw tightened. “This isn’t a real date, don’t forget.”
Anger coiled down low in her gut. Jesus, now she felt like a kid being told off by a stern parent. “Yeah, the only problem with that is that I’m a real woman, not a doll you can play with when it suits you and ignore when it doesn’t.”