Just One Night: Part 2 (9 page)

“I want all copies of the tape you made of the incident in the hallway.”

“Incident?” She lifts a penciled brow at me and has the goolies to smile about it. “Incident? What incident? You mean the fight? That happened at the bar, not in the hallway.”

“No, not the fight.”

Edwards nudges me. “What’s the bird squawking about?”

“Leave my office,” she says to Edward, all her innocent playfulness gone.

“Who, me?” He points to his chest. He actually sounds genuinely shocked. It’s not often he gets kicked out of anywhere.

“Yes, you. Leave.” She raises up her hand and gestures at the door. The bouncer comes in and holds it open for Edward.

“You okay?” he asks me. He sounds a bit like the younger brother I remember from our childhood. A little nervous, a little wary. Like he needs me. My protective instincts rise up like a tidal wave.

I nod, not happy at all about where this is headed. “I’ll be fine. Wait for me outside.”

Once the door is closed, Ingrid stands. She smoothes down her tight skirt and looks up to see if I’m watching. I’m not admiring her angular looks as she probably believes I am; I’m looking for my way out. I need to take possession of any recording Ingrid made of my tryst with Jennifer, and I need to get it from her without threats. Especially now that I know she’s my father’s landlord.

Good God in heaven, how do I get myself into these things? Normally it’s Edward’s doing, but this time I must take all the blame on myself. Well, not all. I shall put it
mostly
on myself. The rest I shall put on Jennifer’s breasts. They are not blameless in all this, let’s be honest.

“So here we are,” she says, coming around the side of her desk.

“I want the recording erased.”

“What recording?” she asks when she’s standing in front of me.

“You know what recording. Or perhaps there isn’t one. Perhaps you’re bluffing.”

She lifts up her hand and points a small remote control over her shoulder. “Oh, silly me. You mean
this
recording?”

A blurry image of myself on my knees worshipping Lady Jennifer pops up on the screen.
Och
, this is not good. My father will have an absolute cow and a goat. The reputation of the firm will be in tatters. How can an irresponsible numbskull like me be trusted with such a huge amount of responsibility and investor funds? This is not good. Not good at all.

“Yes, that recording. Erase it.” I clench my teeth together to keep from saying the wrong thing. This woman is horrible. She’s enjoying this. I wonder if her jaw unhinges and if I should keep more space between us, just in case.

“I don’t know …” She’s taunting me. “I do like the steamy stuff. I might keep it for my personal collection.” She takes a step closer. “What do you think about that?”

I take a step back. “I think that it would be a very unwise decision on your part.”

She shrugs. “How so? The way I see it … I get not only a few hot scenes to help me work off a little steam, but I also get some insurance at the same time.” She smiles and gently taps the remote against her cheek.

I ignore the masturbation reference in favor of the other issue; the one striking fear in my heart. “Insurance? For what?”

“Anything I want.” She rests the top of the remote under her chin. “Insurance that gives me anything I want.” She points at my chest with the remote, but says nothing else. The hard end of the plastic pushes into my skin.

“I’m not certain I understand your meaning.” Actually, I’m quite sure I do, but the idea of spending another moment of time with this viper is distasteful in the extreme. I cannot say it aloud.

“It’s very simple, William. Or should I call you Will?”

“William would do nicely. Or Mr. Stratford. That might be better. Keep it on a professional level.”

“Fine,
Will
. It’s very simple. I want … you. I’ve suspected it for a while, but this video confirmed that in my mind.” She smiles slyly. “I like your style. I think we could get along well together. We’re both intelligent, upwardly mobile, focused, professional, and passionate.”

I have several options here. I don’t want to be too hasty, so I run through them in my mind as quickly as possible.

One: I can run from the room screaming. That would bring the full weight of this woman’s madness down around my shoulders and those of my family. Good enough for me, not so good for everyone else I care about.

Two: I could laugh, great big chortles of gut-busting pleasure, hoping that she’ll take the hint, become dreadfully embarrassed, and turn this into one big joke we can all laugh about later. I find the likelihood of that scenario ending the way I’m dreaming to be slim to none.

Or, three: I could take her up on her offer and protect the family name and the empire my father has worked all his life to build simply by selling my soul to the devil. It’s a small price to pay, some would say. I’ve heard my employees speculating that I don’t even have one to sell.

Technically speaking, she’s right about everything she said. We’re both intelligent, focused, and upwardly mobile. I’ll have to take her word on the passionate part because I have no intention of finding out first-hand, and I might argue the professional aspect since I believe she’s in the midst of blackmailing me - something I believe the Bar frowns on - but I’m not here to turn her against me. I must do what I can to salvage the situation. And the fact is, Jennifer is gone once more. She may be still physically present in my life for a few hours, but after that I shan’t see her again. She was never mine, and she was never meant to be mine. She has been clear about that since the moment we spoke on the telephone and she refused to meet me for a coffee.

I sigh heavily and let my arms fall to my sides. “Just what exactly would your terms be, then?”

Part 3

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elle Casey
is a prolific American writer who lives in Southern France with her husband, three kids, and several furry friends. She writes in several genre and publishes an average of one full-length novel per month.

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