Tall Poppies (23 page)

He looked great. Tony had been born to black tie. The other bigshots here were grey and bespectacled, nerdy, or plump. The earl was lean; spare and muscular, his hair dark, his eyes glittering as he sat. Nina couldn’t help but notice the table’s reaction, how these gentlemen smiled at her boss with their eyes full of envy, curiosity, and

loathing. The alleycat was among the tame pigeons.

She had to say something.

‘I’m - I - good evening, Lord Caerhaven.’ She didn’t dare call him Tony, not after today. ‘Aren’t the delegates supposed to be sat separately?’

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‘Umm.’ The arrogant tilt of his head looked down on

her. ‘They are, but I ordered that you be sat next to me.’ Nina swallowed. .

‘Is that a problem?’ Tony asked. His eyes were dancing, observing her discomfiture. ‘Would you rather be down there, with the others?’

‘No, sir.’ She was blushing. Although everybody at Dragon called Tony sir, in a work situation, there was something disturbing about it right now. The formalised submission. The sense of his power. And his closeness. Nina took refuge in a belt of champagne. ‘I’m sorry about this morning, sir. I should have been ready.’

‘Yes, you should have,’ Tony said. ‘I set the priorities. You follow them. Is that clear?’

The rest of the table were talking amongst themselves while the starter was laid out. Nina knew they were being rude, but Tony clearly didn’t give a luck. She swallowed the rest of her glass. She was a mess of fear and desire.

‘Yes, sir.’ She couldn’t help it, she blurted out, ‘Am I fired?’

He grinned. His eyes. flickered down the bodice of her dress. The look burned a wash of fire across her skin, like the alcohol was burning down her throat. Under.the silk, her groin tightened.

‘You’re good. I can use you. You’re just not as good as you thought you were. Don’t act on your own initiative, act on my initiative. Dragon is not a democracy. You’re not at your five-and-dime store in Brooklyn now.’

The reference to her past jerked Nina’s eyes back up to his. The earl was looking at her in that superior, maddening way Elizabeth had. Don’t forget who you are, it said. I took you out of there and I can send you back.

With an effort Nina nodded. Bastard, she thought, he’s got the whip hand and he loves it. She turned to the Minister for Finance and made some desultory conversation, pushing her oysters round her plate. She couldn’t eat. Tony Savage, on her other side, was lording it over the rest of the table; sometimes their eyes slid over her dress, but-then it was always back to Tony. That was his magnetism, and anyway, for guys like these, sex always came second to power.

Nina drank champagne for courage, enjoying the icy, bubbling sting in her mouth. I might be white trash, she thought angrily, but I’m smart white trash. The best. I got here myself, asshole, and you were born in a goddamn castle!

She forced herself to take a little of the entree. Grouse and roast parsnip. The earl was still watching her. She felt his gaze on her shoulders, the curve of her waist. The champagne was buzzing round her bloodstream. Despite herself, Nina felt herself tense again, moisten between the legs.

The Minister turned to Tony. ‘Lord Caerhaven, Miss Roth does you credit. She’s got a better grasp of EU regulations than some of my officials.’

Tony smiled. ‘Nina’s got a top-drawer brain, Minister. That was my first reason for hiring her.’ When the old buffer reached for more cranberry jelly, he grinned dowfi at Nina.

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The alcohol made her brave. ‘And what was the second?’

‘The packaging,’ Tony said lightly. Then he turned to his neighbour, and didn’t speak to her again for the rest of the meal.

Once the plates were cleared the room broke up.

‘I’ll go and mingle.’

The earl was shaking hands, but he broke off to put one on her shoulder. ‘No. Wait in the lobby. I’ll be right out.’

Nina picked her way through the crowd, weaving and smiling. She was dizzy and carefree. Maybe she should have gone easy on the wine, with an empty stomach, but what the hell. She wandered out and stood by a dusty palm in a large brass pot, refusing to meet the hungry male eyes that followed her.

Tony was out less than a minute later, striding through

a crowd that seemed to part around him. Nina noticed how tall he was; even with her heels, he towered over her. He beckoned to her curtly and they walked into the Horseshoe Bar together. Nina found she was backed into a corner.

‘I like your dress,’ Savage said.

‘I’m glad you like something.’

He laughed softly. ‘Prickly. Let’s see how good you really are.’

Nina caught her breath. The dark eyes and predator smile were fixed on her, and the desire in them was naked. So blatant she felt herself tighten some more, the downy hairs of her belly lifting in response. Jeff had never looked at her that way, with such expertise, such pure confidence.

‘Are you asking me on a date?’

‘No. I’m asking you to bed. Don’t tell me you’re surprised.’

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‘I guess not,’ Nina murmured. She kept her voice down, afraid people would hear them. Caerhaven didn’t seem to care about that; or anything, she thought. She stared back at him. ‘And what if I say no? You sack me?’

He moved a step closer. Crowding her. Bending slightly, so his face was close to hers, so that when he spoke, she was looking at his mouth.

‘You’re a clever girl, you know what I do for my friends. And you want me. So let’s not play games.’ Savage held out his hand to her. ‘Come with me.’

‘We’re going up there together?’ Nina whispered. Tony smiled; he liked the way the kid kept blushing, eyes darting about, like a hare looking to bolt. ‘But what will people think?’

‘Who gives a damn?’ Tony Savage said.

They rode up together in a stately, creaking elevator, joining some suits and a couple of dowagers. When the last of them left at the fourth floor, Tony turned to her, casually, and reached for her breasts through the silky crpe, feeling their heaviness, palming them deftly, feeling the sharpness of her nipples. Nina gasped. Her knees weakened. He didn’t say anything but he smiled, letting her know he could feel her response. Nina felt ashamed but also flooded with heat. Experimentally Tony moved one hand down to the flat of her stomach, resting it there, feeling the warmth of her burning through her gown. The other came up to cup her chin, and he slowly pushed his thumb into her mouth.

Nina started to suck it. She didn’t know what he was doing to her. She was light with lust, almost collapsing, pressing herself against his hand.

‘Steady,’ he said. Like he was laughing at her.

The elevator juddered to a halt. Nina tried to pull herself together. Tony waited politely for her to walk out first.

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The penthouse suite was to the left. Nobody passed them. Tony reached for his key calmly, without hurrying, but Nina could see his hard-on outlined through his pants. His desire was as strong as hers, he was just more used to it. How many women has he had? she thought. A hundred? More than that? Every touch, every look of his was assured. Business and society whispered about him. His girls, his Teflon romances. Not one of them had ever breathed a word. For a second that made her uneasy; how could that be? Was it a Brit thing, a code of silence?

Or did Caerhaven use the carrot and the stick? Come on, girl, you’re not afraid … The key connected with the lock.

Tony held the door open for her as he flicked on the light. Nina looked round a gorgeous suite, crammed with flowers, baskets of fruit and nuts and chocolates on a silver tray. The furniture was mahogany, Georgian antique, including a full bookcase. There was a white damask chaise-longue and armchairs in navy-blue leather. A huge mirror dominated one wall; oil paintings the’others. The bed was a double, pillows heaped on a snowy coverlet; lambswool blankets and broderie anglaise.

Tony shut the door. ‘Are you nervous?’ ‘No,’ Nina said boldly.

He came over to her and steered her into the centre of the room, at the foot of the bed. Facing the mirror. Then

he tipped her face up to his with both hands.

‘Liar,’ he said.

Then he bent down and kissed her. Nina breathed in cigar smoke, light, sexy masculine sweat, that expensive aftershave he used. His lips were brushing hers softly, not gentle so much as exploratory. Tasting her. Pushing on her. Getting a feel for her mouth. Then he was rougher, kissing and breaking off, using his tongue, biting her, his

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hands slipping round her face, yanking her to him, and then his hands moulding the roundness of her butt, stroking her breasts, her belly, pushing down between her legs. Tony was strong: he wouldn’t let her force the pace, holding her back when she squirmed under his touch, closing her mouth with his when she wanted to speak.

When he broke off, Nina’s breath was ragged. ‘Have you ever had an orgasm?’ She blushed. ‘Of course.’

‘With a man? No, I thought not.’ Tony broke away from her and reached for the clasp on her shoulder, unpinning it. ‘Let’s have a look at you, baby.’

Nina just stood there as her gown slithered to the floor. The dizzy, squirmy mixture of embarrassment and excitement was almost too much to bear. To want a man like this’and have him know it. A man you didn’t even really like. But the antagonism made it better … carefully she stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.

She stood naked in front of the mirror except for a tiny scrap of lace at the groin; full, firm breasts, a sleek waist, and a high, rounded ass. Soft upper arms, sweetly turned calves, small feet. She saw the light in Tony’s eyes burst into flame. He groaned and pulled her to him. Nina felt his hands everywhere, tugging her panties down her thighs, his fingers sliding into her, feeling her arousal. The rough cloth of his suit brushed against her everywhere. His erection was larger and harder now. She wanted to undo his belt but her fingers wouldn’t work, they were shaking.

Tony reached for his shirt buttons. He broke two ripping them open, he couldn’t get naked fast enough. His cock was throbbing in his pants, he was a teenager again, fighting to control himself. The girl was light headed from the champagne, but even so, magnificently responsive, and naive at the same time. Passionate but

clumsy, clearly not used to it. If not her first, he’d be one of the first. The thought was exquisitely exciting. She’d been worth waiting for. Check o0t that body, those incredible breasts with the gorgeous, dark-fleshed nipples, tight as raisins, waiting for him. He could get his hands round her waist and her ass was out of this world, he could luck her all night long. He’d been with no really clever woman since Louise but Nina didn’t turn him off. Her brain would make her inventive. She thought she could get round him, but as he’d shown her today, he had her future, everything, right in the palm of his hand. He had her where he wanted her, and tlaat was just how it’d stay.

‘God, you’re beautiful.’ He pulled her on to the bed. ‘I

‘could fall in love with you.’ ‘Bullshit,’ Nina said sweetly. Tony reached for her.

The phone buzzed. Elizabeth’s left hand reached out to grab it while her right hand flung back the blankets and her feet swung down to the carpet.

‘This is your wake-up call,’ the recorded voice intoned. ‘The time now is …’

Five forty-five a.m. She dropped the receiver back on the hook and bounded towards the bathroom, flicking on all the switches. Light stops the production of melatonin, the boely’s natural sleep hormone. After frustrating months of reading, Elizabeth knew her biochemistry back to front. Anyway, the morning routine was conditioned now. Quickly she washed her face and showered briefly, dried herself on an ugly peach towel that looked like a reject from BHS, and pulled on her running gear. Four days in Tunbridge Wells had tightened her butt and strengthened her legs. Ronnie’s threat hit home; whatever else happened, she had to be fit. The team had followed a set training routine, but that wasn’t enough for Elizabeth. When Karen, Janet and Kate had finished, Elizabeth would change suits and head back out the door. Five extra miles every night, then team dinner, then free weights. Seeing the other girls with better physiques than her fired Elizabeth’s competitive edge.

And it was a good way of avoiding Jack Taylor. Elizabeth pulled on her sports bra, ignoring the little thrill of excitement and anger Jack always provoked. Sitting there at dinner, pretending to discuss business with her. Ronnie refused to get rid of him, and Elizabeth

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just had to take it: Jack lying next to her in the weights room, bench-pressing three hundred, his chiselled muscles contracting, sliding back and forth, his jaw clamped tight in ferocious concentration. She hated him. His perfect body. His peak conditioning, his fucking business success.

Elizabeth flung herself into a warm-up routine, lifting

her heels up to her butt to get the blood flowing round

the hamstrings.

‘He’s got the best body I’ve ever seen,’ Karen had gasped last night. Ron had put them all through a second fitness test. Jack joined in, and Elizabeth was forced to watch. Jack’s powerful quads tensing as he ate up the

,squat-thrust routines. His back muscles knotting and sliding in the press-ups. And his bicep curls, God, the weights he could lift. Elizabeth felt her teammates’ eyes just eating him up.

‘He’s nothing special,’ she muttered.

They’d gaped at her in disbelief.

.When Elizabeth hit the machines, Jack was watching

her. She was clamped in place like a prisoner. And flexing, clamping her legs open and shut for the inner thighs, Jack had hung back and just blatantly stared between them.

‘Open.’ Ronnie yelling at her like a sergeant major. ‘Close and open. Come on, Elizabeth! Open. Open. Great …’

Elizabeth pushed up from the soles of her runners, swinging her arms, blushing furiously. Remembering the betraying, ridiculous rush of sexual heat as she sweated and struggled, forcing her thighs apart, trying not to let that arrogant luck see what effects his little games had on her. It was killing her, that was a plain fact. If Ronnie didn’t get him out of here, there was a terrible danger Elizabeth was going to crack. She’d lain awake for an