My Wicked Valentine (Club Wicked 1) (2 page)

Her shoulders tensed, and he returned his attention to her
eyes. A bit of fire sparked there; that intrigued him even more. The smooth
roll of her lightly accented voice washed over him. “Nice to meet you, Mr.
O’Keefe. I’m here about the Valentine’s Day party.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Roa.”

She reached into her briefcase and pulled out an elegant
black portfolio and placed it on his desk. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

He picked up her folder and looked through it, buying
himself some time to gather his wits. Her list of past experience was good, but
it mostly consisted of children’s parties. He didn’t expect her to have her
more adult parties listed in her portfolio and appreciated her discretion, but
he couldn’t judge her ability to throw a party for Club Wicked on how many bar
mitzvahs she’d planned.

“Ms. Roa, do you have any experience with adult parties?”

She flushed, and her gaze darted over his shoulder. “Not a
great deal, but I assure you the events I have orchestrated have all been well
received.” She gestured toward the portfolio. “If you look in the back, you
will see my list of references.”

Confused, he flipped to the last page and scanned it. How
did she hear about the job if she had no experience in the field? He scanned
the last few pages, hoping for some indication as to how she’d ended up on the
other side of his desk. The event planner position hadn’t been listed on any
public sources, so someone must have told her about it. A list of glowing
accolades from her past clients made up the end part of her portfolio. On the
last page was a letter of recommendation from Mrs. Sara Florentine.

Shit.

He groaned and closed the portfolio. “I’m sorry, but I have
to make a quick call. I think you’ve been sent here by mistake.”

Hurt flashed through her eyes, but she stood and started to
reach for the portfolio. “I see, but if you would just look—“

He placed his hand over it and shook his head. “I’m not
asking you to leave. I just want to talk to Mrs. Florentine. She’s a personal
friend of mine.”

Lucia’s relief was palpable as she sank back into her chair
with a smile. “Oh, well, of course.”

He took his cell phone from his pocket and scrolled through his
list of contacts, finding one Mrs. Florentine, who had a great deal to answer
for. What was that woman thinking, sending an innocent young thing like that to
him for the Valentine’s Day event? If Ms. Roa even knew what kind of club
Wicked was, he’d eat his tie.

The phone rang once, and then the voice of the chairman of
the board’s wife and co-owner of Wicked came over the line. “Isaac! What a
pleasure to hear from you.”

He turned to the side and replied in Sara’s native French to
keep their conversation private. “What are you up to?”

“Why, whatever do you mean?” The amusement in her tone was
evident, and it raised his hackles. Sara viewed herself as Wicked’s resident
matchmaker and seemed to be particularly offended by his adamant refusal to
settle down.

He thought she’d given up on finding him anyone to fit his
rather prickly personality, but evidently she’d been biding her time. He
glanced over at Lucia, who was gazing out the window, obviously trying to give
him some semblance of privacy. “You know exactly what I mean. What are you
doing sending this innocent to me for the Valentine’s Day party? I need a
person who is familiar with our lifestyle, not someone who has a clown that
makes balloon animals on speed dial.”

“Oh, pishposh. She is extremely intelligent, very
hardworking, and has a brilliant imagination. I mentored her myself as part of
my work through the college. If you don’t hire her, you are being a complete
idiot. Besides, you could always mentor her and teach her everything she needs
to know about Wicked and the dark pleasures we offer.”

That thought was very appealing, but he pushed it away and
tried to focus on reality. “This isn’t a Sweet Sixteen party, Sara. This is a
very adult function—”

Lucia’s husky voice interrupted him. “Actually, the Sweet
Sixteen party was more for the mother than the teenager, so that could count as
an adult party.”

After all he’d seen, all he’d done, he rarely felt
embarrassed anymore, but sure enough that old feeling came flooding back.
“Sara, I have to go.” He hung up on the sound of her laughing and rubbed his
face before facing a rather irate Lucia. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize you
spoke French.”

“I took it in high school and college.” She gave him a level
look. “So I understood you believe I’m too innocent to help you throw a
successful party?”

“I’m sorry. You don’t quite understand what is going on
here, and I really don’t think you’re the right person for this job.”

She stood, but instead of leaving, she placed both of her
hands on his desk and leaned over, the sheaf of her dark hair falling over her
shoulder in a tempting tangle of curls. “Look, I may be young, but I’m far from
innocent. Whatever kind of party you need, I can do it, and I can do it better
than anyone else you’ve seen today.”

He found her ire adorable, though he was pretty sure he
didn’t want to see her really angry. Exasperated at trying to tiptoe around it,
he decided to tell her the truth. “In all honesty, Ms. Roa, this Valentine’s
Day party is for a private and very exclusive BDSM club. Something I’m pretty
sure you have no clue about.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t do a party! I’m a very quick
learner, and I always research the background needs for whoever my client is.
So I don’t know what BDSM is. I can learn.”

The thought of her bound, bent over a spanking bench, ready
to be fucked filled his mind. Clearing his throat, he sat forward, hoping she
couldn’t see how hard she’d made him. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep
from laughing at how cute she looked when she was pissed. So much fire in her
gaze.

“It stands for Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, and Masochism.”

“What?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Like
whips and chains and stuff?”

“Not really, but for the purpose of this discussion, yes.”

Her jaw dropped, and she sat back in her chair. “Are you for
real?”

He covered his eyes and fought to keep from laughing. Here
she was, his walking wet dream, and she couldn’t be more wrong for him. “Yes,
we are very for real.”

The silence stretched out between them. When he looked up,
he found her studying him. “I can still do your party.”

“Ms. Roa, you have to be reasonable. You can’t fake knowing
what the lifestyle is like. I’ll be honest with you. I have a great deal riding
on the success of the Valentine’s Day bash. If I do a good job, my place on the
board of directors at Wicked is pretty much guaranteed. I want that spot. I
need this party to be a success, and while I truly do admire what you’ve done
with your company in the year you’ve been open, I really need someone familiar
with the lifestyle.”

“What’s Wicked?”

He couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride as he said,
“Wicked was founded in 1916 and is the oldest and most influential BDSM club in
DC. We’ve had everyone from presidents to movie stars as members.”

She blinked rapidly as she digested that information. “I
still say I can do it if you would just give me a chance. Anything you want, I
can do, and if I can’t do it, I can find someone who will.”

Frustrated at her stubbornness, turned on by her insistence
that she could do what he wanted while being plagued by what he wanted to do to
her, he tried to get himself under control. He folded his hands on the desk and
decided to be a little more direct. “Reading books and watching videos will not
help you truly understand how Wicked and its members think and react. You have
to understand the mind of a submissive and Dominant, to immerse yourself in the
lifestyle.” He took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to banish the thought
of her kneeling before him, her head tipped back, and her eyes closed as she
awaited his command or his touch. “Ms. Roa, I need an event planner who can
work with me, more as a partnership than anything else. The only way I could do
that with you is to introduce you to the world of BDSM as my submissive.”

She gave him a suspicious glare and crossed her arms over
her chest. “What does that mean?”

“It means I would be responsible for you in the club. I
would also be in charge of educating you on BDSM. I would also, temporarily, be
your Master.” As soon as he said those words, he realized he really did want to
be her Master, however briefly. The thought of being the first to introduce her
to his world made everything in his body catch fire. More than that, the idea
of her wearing his collar seemed right.

Her big brown eyes grew wide, and her breath came out in a
gasp before she said, “Oh hell no!” She stood and stuffed her portfolio into
her briefcase. “I am not going to sleep with you for a job.”

“I never said that.” He tried to keep his voice under control,
but some of his anger seeped through. “I would never, ever force a woman to
have sex with me in exchange for a job. I’m rather insulted that you would
think that.”

She stood and clutched her briefcase with both hands. “You
said you want to be my Master. To me that sounds like some kind of kinky sex
thing.”

He sighed and rubbed his face. Normally he could sweet-talk
a woman into anything he wanted, but it looked like Lucia was going to be a
hard sell. Oddly enough that thought aroused him, the additional edge of
wanting something he couldn’t have. There wasn’t a man alive who didn’t like a
bit of a chase. “Look, when you get home, call Mrs. Florentine. Talk to her and
let her know I offered to mentor you as your Master and what
you
think that means.”

A dark pink blush stained her cheeks. “I most certainly will
not talk about my sex life with Mrs. Florentine!”

The more she protested, the more he wanted to show her how
wrong she was about not wanting anything to do with BDSM. She had no idea of
the pleasure he could give her. “Do you really want to throw away an
opportunity like this because of your fear of the unknown?”

She clenched her jaw, and her lips tightened. “I’m not
afraid. You’re creeping me out.”

He stared at her in disbelief. No woman had ever found him
creepy before. Ever. Her opinion actually hurt his ego, something he didn’t
think was possible. Good God, when had he become so jaded that he misread a
woman this badly? More importantly, why did he care what this woman who’d known
him for less than twenty minutes thought of him? He didn’t give a flying fuck
what anyone thought; that was one of the things that defined his life. But it
did matter what she thought of him, and he found himself defending his
character yet again.

“Ms. Roa, let me assure you if I’m ever in need of female
company, I have never lacked a partner.”

That made her pause. “Then why don’t you call one of them
for a good time?”

The urge to laugh stuck in his throat, and he swallowed
hard. He had a feeling that laughing at Ms. Roa would be the wrong thing to do.
“Because they don’t have your talent for design. Your portfolio shows me you
have a new, fresh vision for entertaining, and I like it. The last woman who
came in wanted to do cakes shaped like giant penises that would spray frosting
out of the tip.”

Her lips quirked. “That is rather tacky.”

“Indeed. More importantly, I believe the members would like
whatever we come up with. I wasn’t lying when I said I admire what you’ve done.
You have good taste, and that is something money can’t buy.” He didn’t add that
Mrs. Florentine would be offended by his inability to get along with a woman
she was obviously attempting to set him up with. “Please, give it some thought.
I’ll keep the position open until Monday. If you change your mind, please give
me a call.”

She hesitated, then squared her shoulders and lifted her
chin. “I’m not promising anything.”

“I know, but I’m asking you to at least consider the
position. Remember, I’m offering you a partnership with equal say on the
planning.”

She snorted and cocked her hip. “That’s not all you’re
offering me.”

“No, it isn’t, but do you really think Mrs. Florentine went
to the efforts of securing you an interview with me only to get me laid?” He
pulled out his wallet and handed her his personal card. “Here. This has my cell
number and e-mail on it. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to
contact me.”

She took the card from him, and he made sure not to touch
her even though he would love to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

“I’ll call Mrs. Florentine and talk with her, but that’s
it.”

“Thank you, Ms. Roa.”

He stood to walk her to the door, but she quickly moved
across the room and opened it herself as if she were afraid he’d pounce on her.
“Have a good day, Mr. O’Keefe.”

Before he could respond, she shut the door and left him
staring at the wooden surface with a mixture of emotions swirling through his
mind. Amusement filled him that she obviously thought he was some type of
pervert. No, what did she call him? Oh yes, a creep. After having submissives
literally throwing themselves at his feet, it was refreshing, if a bit
disconcerting, to find a woman who didn’t instantly give in to his every wish.

He chuckled and sat back down at his desk, humming as he
sent an e-mail to his security staff to make sure Ms. Roa would pass a
background check. With the high-level CEOs and political dignitaries who
frequented Wicked, they could never be too careful about who they let into
their club. The checks took a bit of time, and he wanted the paperwork pushed
through as quickly as possible for when Ms. Roa agreed to his terms.

And there wasn’t a doubt she would agree, eventually—at
least he hoped she would.

He worked hard for everything he had and would do everything
he could to sway her decision in his favor. What he’d told her had been true;
he saw a great deal of potential in her work, but more than that she intrigued
him. Being born into and raised around immense amounts of money, he was used to
women trying to make themselves into what they thought he wanted. With Ms. Roa,
he didn’t think that was going to be a problem. She obviously had no problem
telling him exactly what she thought, and he had a feeling she didn’t take shit
from anyone. Hell, she’d put him in his place without batting a lash once she
felt he’d insulted her. It was refreshing to have someone speak their mind
instead of automatically saying whatever they thought he wanted to hear. The
world was filled with ass kissers, but honest people were rare.