Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel (13 page)

“Next weekend?” she interrupted with exasperation. “Phillip, don’t be ridiculous.”

There was impertinence in her reprimand.  Everyone heard it and shifted their gaze onto Phillip, his piercing blue eyes glaring at her with censure.  Isabel quickly realized her error.  It was one thing to speak her mind—even complain openly to Phillip—behind closed doors.  But it was another thing entirely to criticize her boss—and challenge his expectations—in front of his most trusted business colleagues.

“It will happen next weekend,” he insisted, his jawline flinching with restraint. “Saturday evening, to be precise.  We’ll offer Mario double his normal rate to expedite the event coordination, and if you personally need more assistance, I will have Giselle help you as well.  I have already met with her this morning about running basic errands for the gala, so you should be consoled that some of the coordination has been taken off your plate. 

He said the word “plate” with a snap of his teeth that conveyed to Isabel that he would not endure another word of protest.  She glared at Phillip, enduring his punishing tone, intended to put her back in her proper place.  She was, after all, his assistant—not his business partner or his equal. 
Something had changed between them
.  His stormy glare and clenched jaw confirmed it.  Rather than their usual fluid conversation and amiable cooperation, there was nothing but an undercurrent of tension and conflict. 

“Okay—” Tami interjected, snagging Jett by the spandex of his running shirt.  “Jett and I will hash out some more leads for you, Phillip, and get right back to you with as much information as possible by Monday.”

She turned towards the door and mouthed her sympathy to Isabel. 
Oh my God, good luck
.  Then, she called out to Jett to follow her. “C’mon, I’ll order breakfast from Eduardos.  I need to drink at least three Bloody Marys to get me through an entire Saturday of working for you.”

Jett followed Tami towards the door, passing Isabel with a snap of his gum. “Love the new cat-fight attitude, Bella. 
Meow
.” 

He held her gaze longer than necessary before snickering and striding out of the office with a holler.  “Tami, let’s get you as many Bloody Marys as it takes you to get drunk.  I’m in the mood for a good time.”

Isabel tried to shake off the gleeful insinuation in his voice as she shut the office door and turned back to meet Phillip’s eyes.

“Eliot Watercross is our competition,” Norton called out, reminding Isabel and Phillip of his phantom presence. “But only because you treat him as such.”  He slowly rose from the sofa and hobbled across the office, opening the door and signaling the end to the meeting.

“As for our dear, Isabel…don’t be such a tyrant, Phillip.  She’s a mother with a young child.  Leave her a bit of peace this weekend and have dinner with me instead.  We can pick out china patterns for your precious gala,” he offered with lofty sarcasm before exiting the office without glancing back at them.

Phillip circled the translucent surface of his glass desk with the tip of his fingernail and waited for the absence of everyone in the room to change the dynamic between them.  Finally, he raised his eyes and fixed his gaze upon her with authority.

“You and I shall meet tonight to confirm all the details of the gala in order to make additional arrangements,” he stated, bobbing back into his executive leather chair like it was an undeniable fact.

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight,” he asserted, as if there was no other choice.

Isabel’s lips parted in silent protest as her body flurried through all the passionate sensations of last night.  The bite marks on the tips of her nipples still stung beneath her dress and the quivering burn of her own invading fingers was more than just a faded memory.  She constricted the lapels of her trench coat, as if she worried that Phillip could read the physical change within her body as well as her yearning desire to fulfill her needs again.  She was expected to show up tonight at Monroe Harbor—and if she failed to come, then she knew she risked signaling to her admirer that their affair was over. 

“No, I’m sorry…I can’t meet tonight, Phillip,” she said with resistance. 

Their eyes locked.  It was the first time in her five years working for Phillip that Isabel had ever declined his request for her to work after-hours. “I have other plans. I’m sorry.  It will have to be tomorrow.”

An awkward discomfort between them ensnared her like an invisible net

Then, like a welcomed distraction, her cell phone rang.  She pulled it from her trench coat’s pocket and looked down at the screen: WATERCROSS CAPITAL.  She hesitated, feeling the pricking sensation of dread coursing through her heart.

“It’s Eliot Watercross,” she announced like an intentional challenge to Phillip’s control over her.  She watched his expression harden like cement.  “I extended an invitation to him to the gala—before I knew he was our direct competition.”

“Watercross has always been our competition,” Phillip replied with skepticism. “Only recently has he found a way to compete with us so…directly.”  He pushed out his words, as if he was implicating her misconduct.  Like a threat, her unanswered phone rang in her hands. 

“Confirm his attendance,” he finally relented, bitterness filled his mouth. “Next time, you will have to conduct yourself more carefully with him.” 

She glared at him, silently wondering if he was the real enemy rather than Eliot Watercoss. 

She turned away, answering the call. “This is Isabel.”

“Bella…” Eliot Watercross’ confident voice called through her receiver. “I’ve missed you.”

Isabel felt the hush in her heart.
I’ve missed you
.  She repeated the phrase in her mind and glanced up at Phillip, certain he had heard Watercross’ flirtatious words through her phone.  Confirming her fears, Phillip’s distrustful glare pushed her away towards the walls of windows.

“Got your message about Phillip’s gala at The Old Main,” Eliot continued.  “Sounds like quite the lavish affair.  I assume you’ll be attending?”

Her pulse raced as she attempted to compare the strong cadence of each word against the husky whispers of her seducer from last night. 

“Yes, of course,” she confirmed. “However, the date has changed.  We’ve pushed it up to next weekend—Saturday night.”

“Even better,” he said with sly delight.  “Count me in.” 

Isabel studied his silence and hesitated. “Shall I put you down as plus one?”

“No, just me, Bella.  Just me.  And while I’m there, I’ll expect you to grant me a private tour.  See you soon.”

He lingered on the line, waiting, listening, studying the pace of her anxious breath before ending the call.  She shivered, the smoothness of his arrogance sliding down her back like a forbidden chill. 
See you soon…
He had said it with an alluring magnetism that forced her to consider its implications, and yet, she had confirmed nothing and everything.  It was impossible to believe that she had allowed herself to be seduced by the one man who could ruin her and her career; and yet, it was impossible to deny the fluttering palpitations within her own heart. 

“He plans to attend, I presume,” Phillip finally called to her.

Isabel nodded, turning to meet his gaze.  “Yes.  And I apologize, Phillip.  Next time, I will be sure to gain your approval regarding the invitation list.”

His crystal blue eyes stared at her, as if he expected her to surrender to the silence.  She waited to see if he would keep her there or release her, but he did neither.  Instead, he gave her the choice—and for the first time in a long time, she chose her own personal needs over the demands of her professional life.  She broke from his gaze, gathered up her briefcase and Aidan’s backpack, and moved to exit his office, pretending that none of it mattered until Monday.  But Phillip’s commanding voice trailed after her.

“New earrings?”

She halted in the doorway and touched the gemstones.
Nothing ever went unnoticed with him
.  Then, she felt the heavy weight of the matching sapphire and diamond necklace around her neck—a physical reminder of how much she had been desired and coveted only hours before.

“Yes,” she whispered, directly meeting his searing eyes. “A gift.”

He stared at her, judging the tension between them.

“Lovely,” he finally remarked, as if he was taking in the way their shining brilliance framed her high cheek bones. “Your birthstone,” he added, lowering his eyes and fingering a loose paperclip across the glass surface of his desk.  “A gift from someone who must know you well.”

Isabel peered at him, her dark eyes challenging him—and his assumptions of her. “Yes.  Sapphires symbolize devotion,” she said confidently before exiting his office.

It was her final act of defiance.  He had treated her with callousness, even disdain, during the meeting, but she wanted him to realize the fault was his own.  If Phillip expected Isabel to always remain the dutiful assistant—completely subservient to him—he was the one in the wrong.  Last night, she had experienced the ecstasy of being satisfied and pleasured as a woman and lover, and as a result, something untamed and ravenous had been unleashed within her. 

She strode out of Phillip’s office and down the open corridor, searching for Aidan.  But Tami peaked out from Jett’s office and intercepted her along the way.

“What the heck has gotten into Phillip?”  Tami said under her breath, keeping pace with Isabel as they headed for the kitchen.

“You mean…something more than his usual obsessive, demanding, surly bastard self?”

Tami snorted.  “Totally.  I mean… does he think you are seriously going to work non-stop for the next week to plan that gala for him?”

“Yes, he does.” She turned squarely to Tami. “And no, I’m not because tonight, I have other plans.”

Tami stared at her, noting the glean in Isabel’s brown eyes.

“Oh my God…you did it.  You met up with Mr. Mystery Billionaire Man last night.”

Isabel hid her smile and entered the kitchen.

“Oh my God, oh my God!” Tami pawed at the sleeves of her trench coat and towed her back. “Don’t you dare walk away like that?  Who was it?”

“I don’t know...” She shrugged, like she was surrendering someone else’s secret.  “He made me wear a mask.”

“He what?” Tami almost shouted before muting her own horror. “You mean like a weird Smurfette fetish Halloween mask?”

“Shhhhh—” Isabel grabbed Tami’s elbow and hushed her with reprimand.  “No, like a blindfold.”

Tami pushed up her librarian glasses, unable to decode the unusual expression on Isabel’s face. “Wow, seriously kinky,” Tami said, chewing on the idea like invisible gum.  “And you agreed?”

Isabel answered with silence.  Tami’s jaw dropped.

“Wowzas.  And so…
what
?  Did you actually
do
it with him? While blindfolded?”

Isabel looked out across the open floor as Phillip exited his office.  His eyes immediately met her own, and she challenged his piercing gaze. 

“I’m meeting him again tonight,” she punctuated.

“Holy hell, it was
that
good?”

But Isabel barely heard her.  She watched Phillip, tracking her and her conversation with Tami before crossing the hallway and disappearing into Norton’s office, shutting the door behind him. 

“Yes,” she stated, like she was a new woman, and turned towards the glass doors of the kitchen. 

Tami heeled after her. “Geez, please tell me this guy has some single friends?”

Isabel and Tami halted inside the kitchen, spotting Aidan and Giselle sitting at the kitchen table, playing with a stack of poker cards.  Aidan was completely consumed with glee by his new babysitter. 

“You can’t pick another card!” Giselle suddenly exclaimed.  “You already have
five
. Look, one, two, three, four, five.”

“Hee, hee, hee…” He deviously snuck another card out from the center pile of cards. He flipped it over and showed it to Giselle, who dropped her head in dramatic shame. “Oh no, not again.  You win!”

“I win!” Aidan bellowed with delight, towing all the cards into his chest and hording them like a windfall of poker chips.

Isabel gazed at Giselle, who pretended to cry.  When Aidan gazed at her in concern, she popped up with a smile and tickled his belly. 

Aidan giggled and pushed all the cards towards her.  “Let’s play again!” he squealed and waited as she gathered up all the cards and dealt him a fresh hand.  It was obvious that they were playing a made-up game.  Isabel had seen her mother’s attempt to teach Aidan how to play “Go Fish” with painful results.  In contrast, Giselle’s silly faces, sound effects, and willingness to follow Aidan’s lead invigorated him with joy and delight.  Clearly, the problem was not entertaining him; it was how was she going to tell her son that it was time to say goodbye.

“Look,” Giselle suddenly said, shifting their attention on Isabel. “Let’s tell your mommy which card is your favorite.”

Aidan glanced over at her. “The King of Spades.”

“Really, why?” Isabel asked, surprised that Aidan even knew what “spades” were.