Mastered 2: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender (38 page)

Breaking All The Rules

Cynthia Sax

Excerpt

I glance at my reflection in the elevator’s shiny metallic doors and wince. Although I no longer wear my temporary tattoos or visible body jewelry, the green hair and the holes in my ears, nose, and bottom lip remain, declaring my rebel status to the world.

This is who I am, who I’ve always been. I break rules. I push people. I don’t fit in anywhere. I tell myself I’m okay with this. In my heart I know I’m not. But I can’t change, not even for the Iceman.

The bell rings, the doors to elevator number four open, and my heart pounds. Nate stands in the back right corner, staring down at his phone, appearing as unapproachably handsome as usual, his blond hair short and neat, his broad shoulders clad in a form-fitting black suit, his crisp white shirt accentuating his golden tan. His tie is always black, always plain.

He wears the same clothing combination every day, and I want to peel the monochromatic fabric away from his kicking hot physique and lick him from his head to his toes. This impulsive act, while certain to be sexually satisfying, violates the rules of my game. He must touch me first. I keep my hands to myself and stride into the elevator, my hips swaying and my head held defiantly high.

Nate glances upward, our gazes lock and hold, and I forget to breathe, to think, to move. His eyes are the palest, coldest gray, a frigid blast of icy wind on a hot Californian day, and I want him as I’ve never wanted anyone else, my need for him carnal and raw.

He slides his phone into his jacket pocket and the silver Rolex on his wrist gleams. This symbol of wealth and the establishment, a physical reminder of who Nate is, doesn’t squelch my lust. It perversely feeds my fantasies.

In my overactive imagination Nate doesn’t stay in his corner. He stalks toward me, hooks one of his arms around my waist, pulls my curves into his muscle, and—

“Miss Trent.” His crisp businesslike tone returns me to reality.

“Nate.” I mimic his curtness, breaking an unspoken company rule by addressing a top executive by his first name. I tap the button for the legal floor. This is the law-enforcing, super-quiet department I’ve been sentenced to. I don’t fit in there, but then, I’ve never fit in anywhere.

Except here. I belong in this elevator car. I belong with Nate. I claim the corner across from him and openly study the object of my obsession. “You spent another weekend alone, I see.” The lines around his mouth and eyes are deeply etched, attesting to his many months of celibacy. This pleases me. I don’t want Nate to touch any other woman.

He’s my iceberg to melt.

# # #

The Buyer

Saskia Walker

When Naomi Kildare meets masterful Lucas Eaglestone a passionate affair sidelines her business and changes her life forever. Lucas asks her to surrender herself to him, totally, and at his hands she experiences sexual pleasures beyond her wildest dreams. A wild weekend with a dominant master proves Naomi's true nature, but will it also prove that business and pleasure don't mix?

Copyright 2015 Saskia Walker

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

About The Author

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Chapter One

The glass tower glittered like diamonds set in platinum.

Naomi Kildare stared up at the London skyscraper in awe. The glass and polished steel office tower was an extravagant statement and it thrilled her to know she was going inside to an appointment with the Eaglestone Agency, the most important retail agency in the business. Gripping the handle of her portfolio case, she tucked her clutch bag under her arm and crossed the road.

As she made her way through the glass entrance doors and across the vast reception area to the elevators, she took in her surroundings, observing the other people she saw there. The offices here housed financiers, and numerous international company headquarters. It felt good to be there. If it didn't work out, so be it. Naomi intended to give it her best shot and enjoy every moment of this opportunity while it lasted.

Her destination was on the thirty-ninth floor. Luckily she was alone in the elevator and used the time to compose herself. Silently counting the floors go by she took a deep breath and prepared herself for her presentation.

Thirty-nine. She stepped out of the elevator onto an expanse of white marble tiles and headed toward the reception desk. As she did, she glanced at the many framed prints of Eaglestone clients and their goods prominently displayed on large white pillars. Naomi's greatest wish was to one day see her Highlands Inspired clothing and accessories range amongst them.

A cluster of white leather chairs stood close to the reception hub. One other visitor was seated there, a woman holding a document carrier in one hand. She leafed through a glossy magazine with her free hand. The atmosphere was a strange combination of austere, dazzling, and relaxed.

Naomi focused on the reception desk. The smartly dressed woman sitting there was chatting to a tall, striking man who stood behind the desk alongside her. As Naomi approached the man leaned over to look at the receptionist's screen, clearly a fellow employee rather than a visitor.

Naomi took one look at him and instantly hoped he was Georgio Melandros, the fashion buyer she had an appointment with. He was attractive and built large with broad shoulders. His hair was black and worn long, brushing his collar. His cheekbones struck her most of all, though. His face could have been carved out of rock. Breathtaking in its masculinity, it was difficult not to gape.

As if he sensed her looking, his gaze lifted. Astonishing blue eyes met hers.

Once he glanced Naomi's way he quickly drew his business to a conclusion.

The receptionist reacted, turned to Naomi, and smiled at her in welcome. "Good Afternoon. How can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Naomi Kildare. I have an appointment with Georgio Melandros."

The man paused to listen to her discussion with the receptionist. The weight of his attention affected Naomi, making her more self aware than she would like to be at this point. She glanced his way and didn't register what the receptionist was saying immediately, because the man observing her made everything else fade into insignificance. His stare was assessing and blatant, softened only by the hint of a smile – a smile that held sensual promise. Was he the fashion buyer? She tried not to look his way again, but her attention was magnetized.

The receptionist's voice invaded her consciousness. "I'm so sorry, Ms Kildare, our buyer has been called away on a family emergency. We were just looking for your contact number to try to let you know."

When the words reached her, Naomi's heart sank. It felt as if she'd been tripped up before her designs even had their moment in the spotlight. It was incredibly frustrating.

The woman on reception looked genuinely apologetic. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to rearrange your appointment."

"Rearrange? I spent the day traveling from Scotland for this meeting."

As she voiced her dismay at the situation, the man standing to one side stepped forward. "That won't be necessary. I'll take the meeting."

The receptionist looked surprised, but nodded.

He came to Naomi's side and took the handle of her portfolio case from her as he directed her to his office. "It'd be a shame to ask you to travel down again, since you're here now."

"Thank you, I appreciate that." Who was he though? He didn't look like a fashion guru. Then again, he was wearing a gorgeous designer suit. She'd read an article about Georgio Melandros and he was described as a flamboyant man. This guy was striking in the extreme, but flamboyant he was not.

"Please ask Diane to hold all my calls until we're done," her companion said to the receptionist, then led Naomi along a corridor.

Stepping alongside him she noticed his posture. Elegant but understated, his large, fit body was something he wore easily. He looked powerful, but it wasn't just that. He had the elusive quality of a man in control. It made her feel self-aware and it made her hot. Quickly, she reminded herself of the purpose of the meeting and mentally ran through her key selling points.

When he ushered her through a doorway Naomi scanned for a nameplate, but there wasn't one. The door opened into a grand office with floor to ceiling glass windows on the far wall, offering a magnificent vista over London. It was late afternoon and the September sky was aglow. Naomi glanced around, trying to ground herself. It was difficult, because the place was ostentatious and the man at the center of it had such presence.

It was a massive space, simply furnished with classic pieces in dark wood. There were three desks, arranged to provide options to work facing the view or with your back to it. Beyond the desks she could see St Paul's Cathedral and many other notable London landmarks amongst the rooftops and skyscrapers.

"Please, take a seat." Her companion stepped behind the main desk and gestured to the simple black leather chair opposite him. He'd left her portfolio case close to the chair.

"Thank you." As she took her place, she put her clutch bag down on the floor and glanced to either side. On one wall six clocks displayed the times in various cities around the world, the city named below. A sleek, glossy black cabinet below looked as if it might contain refreshments. On the opposite wall a long and wide black leather couch looked suspiciously as if it offered the owner of the office the chance to sleep there overnight if necessary. Such were the requirements of a prestige retail agency like this, she surmised. Next to the sofa and facing out across London was a high tech running machine. It definitely had the makings of a home away from home, Naomi decided.

"I didn't catch your name," she said, as she straightened her outfit. The light was behind him, the glass windows flooding the offices with natural illumination.

"Lucas." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. "I apologize for the change of circumstances. It can't be helped. Georgio was called away at short notice. His father has been taken into hospital."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Lucas. Family must come first."

"Just Lucas, please. And you're…Naomi?"

"Yes, Naomi. Naomi Kildare."

"You've had a long journey, Naomi, I appreciate that. I can at least offer you a hearing. If necessary I'll confer with Georgio when he's back in the office." His manner was somehow intimate, as if was genuinely interested in hearing her pitch.

As flattering as it was to have this gorgeous man paying her attention, she couldn't help wondering if it wouldn't be better to postpone her appointment until Mr. Melandros could see her himself. "I sense you're not a fashion buyer yourself."

"Very astute. Georgio Melandros is our fashion expert. Rest assured I do know a good product and I'm in a position to offer contracts and engage top exposure, should I think a product warrants it."

Naomi eyed him cautiously. He wasn't a fashion guru, so what was his role? Advertising, or perhaps marketing – yes, that could be his game. The fact he wasn't the fashion expert put her at an immediate disadvantage, though. This agency only represented a tiny percentage of the products they saw, and they rejected hundreds without even looking. They had an esteemed placement list in all the top retail outlets. If her work was contracted by the Eaglestone Agency it might be seen in airport shops and top-class London stores like Harrods and Selfridges. She'd already felt like she was clutching at a slim hope when she came in, because of the small client list they chose to back. If she didn't even have the actual fashion buyer's attention, what hope did she have?

"Can I get you a coffee or something else?"

"No, thank you."

He rested back in his chair. "Why don't you start by telling me a bit more about yourself and your background?"

"Is that as important as the product itself?" As far as she was concerned, her designs should be judged on their own merit.

"Most of our retailers want a face for the product and whilst we can manufacture that, if necessary, it helps if the designer's background is somehow special, reflecting the uniqueness and creativity of their product. A talented designer who's prepared to be the face of the product vastly enhances the marketing potential."

Yup, definitely a marketing guy
. She could see his point, but she was itching to open up her portfolio and show him the samples she'd brought with her. "I have a good education in fashion design, a first-class degree from St Martin's College here in London and a Masters from Edinburgh College of Art. I apprenticed with Scotland's leading knitwear designer before going out on my own. My family lineage is in the Highlands, although I was brought up in Edinburgh, and it's from the dramatic textures and colors of the Highlands I draw inspiration for my fashion design."

"You know your field. That's obvious." Again he was looking at her with curiosity, and seemed in no rush to see the designs she was talking about.

"Do you follow developments in the fashion industry yourself?"

His eyelids lowered and he smiled. "The fashion industry represents twenty-six billion pounds of income for the British economy, every year. It would be foolish for anyone involved in retail finances to underrate its importance in national terms."

Naomi tried not to squirm. She'd made a foolish remark and wished she could withdraw it. She was on edge and worried she wasn't speaking to the right guy here.

Lucas was still mid-flow. "The Eaglestone Agency is experienced in the field and handles several well-known fashion design clients—"

"I know," she interrupted. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to quiz you. I'm nervous."

He locked eyes with her, holding her attention for the longest moment. Something about the way he looked at her made the tension she felt diminish. Instead, she felt aroused. It was a direct response to the sexy look in his hooded eyes. "Don't be nervous."

Naomi's breath felt as if was trapped in her lungs, held as she was by those piercing blue eyes. His comment forced her to his will – she felt compelled to trust him. She breathed, and a strange shiver ran through her. Release of tension, she figured, trying to ignore the fact it felt decidedly sexual. The thought wouldn't go away. Why would it, she thought wryly, when the suave man who had granted her a hearing had so easily established a more intimate connection with her.

"You come across well," he continued. "I wouldn't have guessed you were nervous." He smiled, clearly attempting to put her at her ease. "Tell me where you're at with marketing and disturbing the range yourself."

She took a deep breath. "I'm at a crossroads. I sell my designs from my own shop and I have placements in a small number of the larger Edinburgh stores, exposure I sourced myself. I believe there are two distinct paths, to diverge into online sales, or to build prestige first then launch an online outlet at a later date."

"You're clearly aware of the options."

"That doesn't make it any easier, deciding what to do for the best. That's why I felt I needed expert guidance and representation."

He nodded, his expression watchful. He was giving nothing away.

She took the initiative. "May I show you some items from my range?"

A flicker of humor lit his sharp blue eyes. "I assumed you were wearing one."

Well, that showed her up. She'd planned to stand up, take off her jacket with a flourish, and begin with a demo of the fitted dress she was wearing. He'd known all along. An astute, sharp guy, in every respect – in fact he looked as if nothing could undermine him or put him at a disadvantage. He'd folded his hands in front of him as he considered her, a simple act but it characterized him completely. Ultimate control in a man — how could she not notice and admire that?  It was a turn on, too.
You're here to negotiate, to push your business and make a future for yourself, focus.

"Yes, the dress is my day-long little black dress." She rose to her feet and turned her attention to her portfolio case. Undoing the zips and clasps, she selected several items and laid them out on the desk in front of him.

"This range of scarves is currently my best seller. I believe that's due to my location. My shop draws tourists who are looking for Scottish gifts they can take home to friends and family. You can squeeze one or more of these into your hand baggage if your case is already full." Unrolling one of her twin sets she carefully moved the fabric in the natural light to show it at best advantage. The set was pale grey wool with darker grays and greens. "Several of my designs have been taken up by Edinburgh stores, but my aim is to reach a wider market. The fabric is designed to appear fragile and yet be flexible and durable for everyday wear."