Entwine (Billionaire Series) (15 page)

I put my
hand on the door handle, and paused. I could hear him moving around inside, and
the sound made my heart thud in my chest. I pulled my hand off the handle,
suddenly scared again. With all the adrenaline which had pumped through my body
tonight, it was a miracle that I hadn’t had a heart attack yet.

Swallowing
my doubts and fears, I replaced my fingers on the handle, slowly curling my
hand into a fist.

I pulled
the handle slowly, not sure how my nerves would deal with any sudden movements.
I opened the door softly, but as I pushed it open, I heard Mathis start and
move quickly.

I looked
around, confused, not seeing him anywhere inside his spacious office.

A second
later, though, I found myself face to face with Mathis, his eyes wide and
locked on mine. He had hidden behind the door, likely, in anticipation of it
being someone from the crime syndicate.

“Amanda?!”

His deep
voice was rough with astonishment, and I felt every ounce of blood in my body
rush to my face, turning my cheeks a bright scarlet as he looked at me as if I
was a ghost.

“Uh…
hi,” I said lamely. He was still looking at me as if he couldn’t quite believe
I was there, and it was beginning to make me uncomfortable.

“How the
hell did you get up here?” he asked. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something
happen?”

“No no,
I’m fine,” I insisted, confused. “Why would I be hurt?”

All the
tension seemed to seep from Mathis’ body, and he walked over to one of his wide
armchairs and collapsed into it, taking a few deep breaths before giving a soft
chuckle.

“You’re
full of surprises,” he said after a moment. “I thought you were someone from
the crime group. I was all set to attack you! And then I saw your face – for a
horrible moment I thought they had you as a hostage. I’ve never panicked so bad
in my life. Christ, it’s a miracle I didn’t have a heart attack.”

I
thought how ironic that was, since I had been thinking the same thing just
minutes earlier.

“I
didn’t mean to freak you out,” I apologized. “You’re kind of a difficult man to
see.”

“That’s
because I’m trying to stay away from you.” In an instant, Mathis was on his
feet again, his eyes sparking with anger. “I’m trying to keep you safe, Amanda,
and you’re apparently dead set on putting yourself in danger as often as
possible.”

“It’s
not up to you,” I said hotly. “I’m tired of sitting around waiting to see if
you’ll ever call me, Mathis. I know it could be dangerous to see you, but it’s
my choice to make.”

“You’re
as stubborn as your uncle,” Mathis said, torn between annoyance and amusement.
“I can’t bear to put you in danger, Amanda. The only way I can keep you safe is
if I keep distance between us.”

“Maybe I
don’t want distance between us,” I said. “I wanted to see you, Mathis. I can’t
help it – you’re in my life now and I don’t want to lose you again.”

“How did
you get up here, anyway?” Mathis asked, ignoring my heartfelt plea. “I thought
I’d told the front desk not to let you in.”

“You
did,” I said sourly. “I found another way in.”

“You
would,” Mathis sighed. “I should’ve known you’d do something crazy. That just
makes me worry more.”

“You
don’t need to worry,” I insisted. “Mathis, I’m not a child. I don’t need to be
looked after by you.”

“You
don’t know these people,” Mathis protested wearily. “You don’t know the lengths
they would go to in order to get to me. If you spend time around me, there is
no doubt that they would try to use it against me. Don’t you remember the night
they shot at us?”

“I
remember.” It still sent a chill down my spine to think of that night, the fear
and horror as I drove my car at breakneck speed to get away from the bullets
being aimed right at us.

“That
was nothing,” he insisted. “I wake up at night in a cold sweat when I think of
what they might do to you because of me.”

“I’m
sorry,” I said, feeling slightly ashamed of my selfish impulse now. “I only
wanted to see you – you have no idea how hard it is to stay away.”

“I
do
know – it’s no easy matter for me either,” Mathis confessed. “Being this close
to you right now – I have to stop myself from–“

He broke
off and turned away, clenching his hands into fists.

“You’d
better leave,” he said stiffly. “I’m sorry, Amanda. I just can’t do this.”

“I don’t
care,” I said firmly.

“Amanda,”
he said warningly, turning around to face me again. “You’re driving me–”

But he
didn’t have a chance to say anything else. I covered his protests with my lips,
stifling his words and kissing him firmly. I pulled away after a few seconds
and looked him in the eye, my own expression fiery, showing him that I wouldn’t
take no for an answer.

I
watched as the last bit of resolve faded from his eyes. He growled, and pulled
me flush against him, so I had to tilt my head up to look into his face. The
hunger in his eyes sent a wave of lust coursing through my body like liquid
fire, and Mathis crashed his lips to mine in a searing, torturous kiss.

There
was nothing gentle about it – it was as if all the frustration, anger, lust and
longing we had both been storing up over the past few weeks was pouring out
into each other, flaring up so violently that it burned.

I felt
as though I was breathing fire as the kiss intensified. Mathis’ lips were my
life source, cool but burning hot. I could feel his teeth, the wet slickness of
his tongue as he forced my lips apart, drawing every last drop of pleasure from
me and still searching for more. I tasted blood as Mathis nipped at my lower
lip, sucking it into his mouth. I heard myself moan, and it sounded almost
animal, beyond any rational human control. I wanted more – I wanted everything.

After
what could have been hours, our kiss broke. I was gasping for breath, my throat
burning from lack of oxygen and my heart thudding like someone pounding
desperately on a door. I realized that I must actually have forgotten to
breathe. I felt dizzy but euphoric, and the area between my legs was already
throbbing with desire, wet and slick and wanting.

Mathis’
eyes were burning with passion, and I could tell that his reservations and his
barriers had splintered like so much firewood, consumed by the heat which had
kindled between us. I knew he couldn’t walk away from this – no more than I
could. We were slaves to our hunger.

For a
few long seconds we were just panting, trying to regain control over ourselves.
I knew, and I was sure Mathis did too, that there would be no going back from
this. Once might eventually have been forgotten, but I couldn’t have a taste of
this twice and then walk away.

I leaned
in to resume the kiss, but Mathis put a finger to my lips, looking searchingly
into my eyes.

“Amanda,”
he said, his voice husky with desire.

“What?”
my voice was breathless, and I almost blushed to hear myself sounding so girly
and swept up in the romance of the kiss.

“Before
we do this – I’ve told you before, but I think you need to hear it again before
we go any further.”

“What is
it?” I began to frown, wondering whether he was going to tell me to go away
again.

“I’m not
the same person you used to know. I lost all the innocence I had back then a
long time ago.”

“I know.
I don’t expect you to be the same,” I said. “I want to be with you now, not the
boy I knew then.”

“I
know,” Mathis acknowledged, still holding me tightly against him. I could feel
his arousal pressed against my stomach, and it was turning me on. “But I’ll
expect more of you, if we’re going to do this. You need to be prepared for that
– or you need to walk away now.”

Suddenly
a worm of anger was mixed in with my lust.

“I’m not
a dizzy little schoolgirl either,” I said. “I’ve changed from the girl you knew
too – I’m more mature, and I’m not afraid to take risks. Would the little girl
you knew have broken into an office building to come and see you?”

“No,”
Mathis gave a slow, beautiful smile which made me tingle and my heart beat
faster. I felt his rod growing against me, and I felt my own lips turn up in
response.

“Does it
excite you?” I asked boldly, pushing against him a little, making him catch his
breath. “Do you like that I can be a bad girl?”

“I’m
counting on it,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He captured my lips in a
kiss once more. It was raw and passionate, a clash of lips and tongue, both of
us desperate for more, trying to express every part of ourselves through the
kiss. I moaned as Mathis’ tongue ghosted across my lower lip, parting my lips
eagerly to allow him better access. I could smell his sweet, musky scent all
around me. The warmth of his body was like a furnace, his heat seeping through
my clothing just as the juices from my sex were dripping down and soaking my
panties.

Once
again, Mathis broke the kiss, his left hand under my shirt, caressing the soft,
bare skin on my back and sending tingles down my spine. I was panting, desperate
for his touch, but he was smiling, his expression full of mischief.

“Let’s
test a theory,” he said.

“Hm?” my
brain was clouded with lust and I couldn’t quite comprehend his words.

“You
said you weren’t a nice little girl,” he reminded me.

“I’m not,”
I pouted. He chuckled, and leaned forward to kiss my plump, puckered lips
briefly.

“You
also said you could handle any demands I had of you,” he said.

“I –
yes?” I was confused, not knowing what he was getting at.

“Well,
I’d like to test that theory,” he said. “I’m not the same young boy anymore.”

I was
nervous, my mouth suddenly dry, my heart beating an erratic rhythm beneath my
breasts. My excitement was layered with apprehension as I wondered what he had
in store for me.

Very
slowly, Mathis brushed his hand down the bare skin of my back and over my ass.
I shuddered, closing my eyes briefly before looking to see what he was doing.

Slowly,
very slowly, the teasing smile pulling his face into a gorgeous smirk, he undid
the knot of his tie, pulling it from his shirt collar until he was holding it
in his hand. I saw the bulge in his pants where his large manhood was straining
to be free. It made my mouth water, filling me with desire.

I
watched his hands as he ran them over the silk of the tie, curling it around
one hand and tying it in a loose knot before smoothing it out again.

All of a
sudden, I realized what he wanted. My knees suddenly felt like water, and my
eyes widened. My breath became shallow, and I could barely contain my emotions
– a turbulent combination of nerves and anticipation. The gleam in Mathis’ eye
was black and hungry, and it made me wet.

“If
you’re not a nice little girl,” Mathis grinned, licking his lips as he pulled
the tie taut between his hands, “then prove it.”

Philip wasn't being
particularly loquacious, but there was something different about his silences
than there had been before. Now, there was an almost shy quality, as if he was
venturing into unknown territory with Jennifer. His demeanor remained
professional as they reviewed the payroll spreadsheet she'd finished earlier
that morning, but every so often, she'd catch him looking at her with a very
unprofessional expression on his face, one that made her want to squirm in a good
way.

“Another reason I
always review the payroll for each hotel rather than leave it up to the
accountant is plausible deniability,” Philip explained. After seeing Jennifer's
puzzled look, he continued, “I hate that phrase being put across as something
positive. Basically, it's someone not wanting to take responsibility for their
actions. They say they didn't know, or weren't told, so they shouldn't be held
accountable. I think that's a cop out.” He gave her a small smile. “You look
surprised.” There was an amused note to his voice.

“I am,” Jennifer
answered honestly. “You create a lot of extra work for yourself by staying
involved in areas that other CEO's would just let their people handle.”

“You're probably
right,” Philip nodded. “But I take my role as a leader very seriously. All of
my employees should be able to rely on me not to pass the blame. As the CEO, I
should accept responsibility for as much of what goes on in my companies as
possible, so I try to know as much as I can about every business.”

Jennifer was
impressed. Not many people – business or otherwise – were willing to step up
like that. It took a strong kind of man to accept that sort of responsibility
and she wasn't sure she knew anyone else who'd ever do the same. This was a
part of Philip's personality she hadn't realized he had, a part that she found
very, very attractive. She had the sudden desire to test his commitment to keep
things professional and kiss him.

“And speaking of
knowing about business aspects,” Philip cleared his throat. A hint of red
stained his cheeks, as if he knew what Jennifer was thinking. “Did you finish
compiling that information on the Carlisle's coordinating manager?”

“Yes,” Jennifer
answered and proceeded to open the folder on her lap.

One of her first days
on the job, she and Philip had met with the appointed housekeeping
representative of the Carlisle Hotel. It was there that Jennifer had seen
Philip show his stern, authoritative business side. James Young had been the
half-brother of the coordinating manager, Tom Evans, the man who'd given him
the job. Philip hadn't fired Mr. Young, but had effectively scared him to the
point where, Philip had explained, the young man wouldn't ever cross him again.
A few days ago, Philip told her that he'd hired a private detective to look
into Tom Evans and to do some extra digging that Human Resources might have
missed. The PI's investigation had ended, but Philip wanted her to review the
file and highlight the essentials.

“Anything
interesting?”

“It looks like it.”
Jennifer pulled one of the papers out. “The PI found some information about
Evans' family and it looks like a lot of the companies he has hired for
contracts have employed relatives of his, some distant, but the connections are
there.”

“What do you think
we should do?”

“Me?” Jennifer
couldn't disguise the surprise in her voice.

“Yes. You read
through all of the detective's notes. Do you think Evans is hiring family
intentionally when other companies would be better suited for the job, or is it
just how he happens to hear about those particular companies?” Philip leaned
forward, his expression earnest, as if he truly cared about what she was going
to say.

Jennifer was
flustered and tried not to show it. He wasn't just asking for her to present
the information or even for a general comment. He wanted her to analyze the
findings and come up with a solution. Her mind scrambled and, for one
frightening moment, she couldn't recall a single thing she'd just read. She
took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and the information started to become
clear. She shuffled through the information, remembering what she'd been
thinking when she'd first read it. When she opened her eyes, Philip was
watching her intently, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“I'd meet with him,
ask him to present a list of the other companies who'd bid on the positions
filled by the ones he'd hired. I'd also ask to see the resumes of the people
who applied for jobs where he ultimately hired a relative.” Jennifer was proud
of herself for keeping her voice level. “Compare the people and companies who
got the jobs with those who didn't. If there's clear favoritism, then I would
either discipline Evans or fire him.”

“Which would you
do?”

She considered the
question. “I'm not sure. I think I'd have to see how he reacted to the
questioning.”

Philip nodded. “I
agree on all counts. Make the call.”

“What?” Jennifer
stared.

“Call the Carlisle,
speak with Tom Evans and tell him to send the documentation over. I want you to
take charge of this.”

Jennifer was aware
that her mouth was hanging open, but she didn't seem able to close it. Had he
seriously just said that he wanted her to be in charge of investigating
favoritism at The Carlisle Hotel? Mister Control was giving her some of her own
control?

Judging by the grin
on Philip's face, he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Yes, Jennifer. I want
you to take point on getting this situation resolved. Run any major decisions
by me and feel free to ask any questions or ask for assistance if you need it,
but it's yours. You’re ready for this.”

Jennifer's heart
skipped a beat as she saw the sincerity on Philip's face. Unfortunately, the
moment was lost when, as Philip was retrieving a file from the corner of his
desk, his hand bumped his coffee cup and it tipped, sending the hot liquid
spilling across Philip's desk and across the front of his white dress shirt.

“Damn it,” he
bolted from his chair.

“Are you okay?”
Jennifer was out of her seat as well, on her way to the bathroom even as she
asked the question.

“Fine.”

Philip sounded
annoyed, but Jennifer knew it wasn't directed at her. She could see his
frustration at himself written on his face before she disappeared into the
bathroom. She found a roll of paper towels under the sink and headed back into
the office.

She was two steps
across the room when she saw that he'd taken off his shirt and undershirt.
Jennifer paused for a moment to admire Philip's lean torso and then started
walking again. “I got some paper...” Her voice trailed off as Philip turned
away from her to fetch a new shirt from his closet.

Her heart clenched.

The muscles on his
back rippled under his golden skin, but she wasn't looking at that. All of her
attention was focused on the many white lines that marred his otherwise flawless
skin. They ran from his shoulder-blades down to the small of his back without
any obvious pattern and in unpredictable directions. She'd seen him without a
shirt on before, though not often considering how many times they'd had sex,
but she hadn't been paying much attention to his back when there had been other
more interesting parts of his anatomy to capture her attention.

Philip shrugged on
another shirt as Jennifer caught herself staring. She crossed to the desk and
began clean it off, keeping her eyes down where she was soaking up the spilled
liquid. What could have caused that? Even as she asked herself the question,
she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer, but still, she felt compelled to
ask.

“Thank you,
Jennifer,” Philip turned back around.

“Philip,” Jennifer
hesitated, but pushed herself to continue. “The scars on your back, where did
they come from?”

Philip tugged on
his collar and gave her a half-smile. “Oh, you know how it is, when you're a
kid...” He let the sentence trail off as he looked down at his desk to continue
with his work.

“Oh.” Jennifer
wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting or how to respond. Was she really
reading too much into it? She wasn't sure why, but the way the scars had made
her stomach twist, she'd expected to hear about something in Philip's past,
maybe something that explained his behavior. But, she supposed, it could have
been from an accident or from something dangerous he'd gotten himself into as a
child. Maybe he'd gotten snagged on a barbed wire fence, been in a car
accident, or accidentally fell on broken glass. There were a lot of things kids
could by chance get themselves into.

“Why don't we take
a bit of a break? We'll wait for the papers to dry from the spill and then
we’ll finish up.” Philip turned away, but not before Jennifer caught a glimpse
of the expression on his face. She felt sure that there was vulnerability,
something broken that she couldn't define, but that she wanted to understand
him.

Before Jennifer
could answer, the intercom buzzed. She waited for Philip to either pick up the
phone or send her out. To her surprise, he pressed the speaker button.

“Yes, Emma?”

“Mr. Johann Haas is
on the line for you.”

The secretary's
voice had a slight tinny quality, but there was no mistaking the name she'd
said. Jennifer's gaze darted up to Philip's face. He wasn't looking at her, but
rather at the intercom, his face an impassive mask. He wasn't entirely still,
however. His hand went to his collar, the movement appearing to be
subconscious. This time, Jennifer saw the thin white line across the side of
his neck. Was that caused by the same thing as the lines on his back? Her
question moved to the back of her mind when the name Emma had said registered.

Johann Haas.

Philip hadn't
mentioned any brothers, so Jennifer felt it safe to assume that Johann was his
father.

Philip's father,
whose phone call clearly made him uncomfortable.

Johann.

J.

Was it possible
that the J who wrote the letter wasn't that woman at all, but rather, Philip's
father?