Dirtiest Lie: Executive Toy, #5

Chapter 1

In the darkness of my boss’s guest bedroom, I stare into my phone’s warm glow while I scroll through job ads in cities far away.

I woke after only an hour of sleep, coming back to consciousness gripped in icy panic. Fear is nothing new to me, but years have passed since I last felt like this.

A sales position in San Diego catches my eye. I tap on the listing and begin reading about the company. It’s not that I’m planning to skip town, but this is soothing, looking at new cities, new positions, and imagining starting over, becoming invisible again.

Invisibility comforts me. That might sound at odds with my appearance, my long, platinum blonde hair, my excruciatingly careful attention to my makeup and wardrobe, but I’ve learned that projecting an image of my choosing is the second best thing to invisibility. If I could turn invisible, I’d take it in an instant.

A slight creak somewhere in the mansion sets my heart racing.

This time, at least, I don’t jump out of bed, ready to run. I don’t even sit up. But even though I know I’m perfectly safe here, in Romeo’s mansion, my stomach clenches and a bitter taste sours my mouth.

I could go to Romeo’s bedroom. I think he would let me into his bed.

But I can’t bring myself to do it. My cowardice shames me. Romeo would take one look, and he would see my fragility. While I know he would soothe it away, I also know I’d regret it in the morning.

What I need is sleep. All this adrenaline constantly surging through my veins is exhausting.

My thumb mashes the side of my phone and the screen goes dark. On a deep inhale that fills my lungs with the fresh scent of clean sheets, I summon pleasant thoughts.

Like my bosses, and how lucky I am that they’re going to help me. I’m still not sure how we can fix everything; their idea of solving my problems is unlikely to mesh with mine. One misstep and I’ll get caught, and my grandfather will… what?

Have me institutionalized. If I’m lucky.

Damn, Lindsay. Way to focus on the positive.

My thoughts shift to Bandit, my wise yet silly cat, the supplier of constant affection and cat hair.

But he isn’t here. In fact, he’s under observation in a vet clinic in Milford Crossing, a day’s drive away. He’s sitting in a cage, probably wondering what he did to deserve such punishment.

I use all my energy to push back the guilt. Bandit will be fine. That’s all that matters.

Slowly, I force the air out between my lips, and I close my eyes. Just another hour of sleep will make all the difference.

Miraculously, I drift into a sort of twilight, a magical darkness that takes me to a dinner with my three bosses. Slade, his aristocratic laugh pleasant while he cracks jokes with Romeo, who surreptitiously checks his cell phone to make sure he doesn’t miss a single business call. And Hawthorne… being Hawthorne. That is, slightly snobby, his piercing blue eyes quick to judge me.

A floorboard creaks. The bedroom door sighs, a draft moves across my skin.

My eyes fly open.

Silhouetted against the faint hallway light, the broad-shouldered man says my name. His voice is a soft rumble of thunder on a summer evening. Lindsay? Are you awake?

Instead of answering, I close my eyes almost all the way and peek through my lashes.

Romeo doesn’t ask again.

Instead, he moves deeper into the room. His muscular arms are full of something, but it’s not until he arranges it over the back of a chair that I suspect it’s clothing. Squinting, I catch a glimpse of shoes.

They look like high heels.

Like crazy, sky-high, break your ankle, put a chiropractor on speed dial heels.

But that can’t be right. Last night, my bosses worked me through a bizarre ritual where they divested me of my sexy clothing. Special attention was paid to my high heels. All the while my bosses said they were freeing me.

Any outfit that Romeo brings me to wear will be comfortable… and boring. Schoolmarm, with miles of itchy textiles and high necklines. Clothes that won’t make me invisible but will instead render me powerless, unable to smile and flirt my way out of trouble.

He smooths one of his large hands over the clothing, and in the silence of the room, I hear the rustle of fabric, then soft thumps as Romeo arranges the shoes just so.

Then he turns to look at me, and I quickly close my eyes to slits.

Moving silently, he comes closer. The scent of his aftershave is faint, from the morning before. His pajamas, of indeterminate color in the dark, nevertheless glide around his muscular legs and shimmer like silk. They sit tantalizingly low on his hips, giving me an unobstructed view of sculpted abs.

It takes all my control not to fully open my eyes and gawk at him.

It’s rare to see Romeo like this. For all the hassle he gives me about my padded pushup bras, he’s the kind of businessman who wears a tailored Italian suit even on the weekends.

He bends over me. I can feel the warmth of his body.

I think of the platonic night I spent in his bed, and that makes me close my eyes all the way… because I don’t want to want things I can’t have.

You’re not asleep. His deep voice is soft but amused.

He clicks on a light.

Slowly, I raise my gaze to meet his.

Immediately I’m sucked into the depths of his brown eyes.

Romeo is handsome, even compared to movie stars and male models. His jawline and cheekbones are softened by symmetrical features. His is a rare masculine beauty. Despite his thick muscles and his resemblance to the powerful animal that gives him his surname—Wood Bison—he is every inch a sophisticated businessman.

Even now, in his black silk pajama bottoms, he radiates authority, commands respect and deference.

Time to get up, he says. He reaches out, and I think he’s going to caress my cheek, but at the last moment his hand drops and he begins peeling back the sheet I’m wrapped up in.

I’m wearing one of his T-shirts, and it got hiked up over my hips while I slept.

And that’s all I’ve got on.

The sheet exposes the twisted bottom of the shirt, then my ribs… my stomach… my hips…

Cool air swirls as he continues uncovering me.

He stops, and very slowly, his gaze travels down my body. A tingling sensation makes my arms pop into goosebumps.

No panties, he says.

Hot prickles spread over my cheeks and throat.

It must be explained that Romeo has seen me in some very compromising positions. He—along with my other two bosses—has done things to me that most women will never experience. Intimate things.

I glance down and see my nipples are stiff peaks distorting the borrowed shirt. I’m lying partially on my side, and my legs are scissored a little.

It’s enough for him to see the mound of my sex, but at least I’m not completely flashing him.

In other words, it could be worse.

Go take your shower, he rumbles as he drops the sheet and steps back.

Almost trembling, I get up and walk quickly to the bathroom.

~ ~ ~

By the time I emerge from the bathroom, smelling like sweet pea and vanilla, Romeo is gone.

The door is open, and I hear his voice somewhere in the mansion.

I adjust the towel and tilt my head. Footsteps sound out on the stairs. I can tell he’s no longer barefoot, which I suppose means he’s dressed and I won’t get to ogle his hulking muscles.

He’s still talking, and I realize he’s already on the phone. Of course he is.

Could you please hold a moment? he says as he crosses the threshold. He mutes his call.

He’s wearing a dark suit. No necktie, but his striped grayish shirt is buttoned to the top, so I suppose he just hasn’t gotten around to putting one on yet. I wonder if he chooses his clothes the night before or if he just grabs whatever’s handy. Despite how closely I’ve been watching him and how much I