Possessed By You (Overworld Underground Book 1) (23 page)

I wondered how every time he said my name he managed to make it sound like an indecent proposal and a sign of respect all at the same time. "You don't eat at fancy restaurants?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes it's a necessity. And some of them actually have amazing food."

I finished off my salad, and opened the pita bread on my gyro so I could pick out the chicken breast and vegetables. "I must admit, this is excellent Greek cuisine."

"Why are you eating like that?"

"Like what?" My words were muffled due to the chicken I'd just shoved in my mouth.

"You should eat the whole gyro."

"Unlike some people, I can't expect the extra weight to simply drop off me."

"Then you should work out."

I swallowed and raised an eyebrow for him, Sandra-style. "And what sort of workout regimen would you recommend, Mr. Rock?"

"Vigorous exercise, Miss Glass." His green eyes sharpened, and his lips curled up.

I suddenly felt like a vulnerable lamb all alone in a field with a ravenous wolf. I stiffened my spine, and flared my eyes in challenge to his. "That's not very specific, Mr. Rock."

His grin widened. "Calisthenics are always fun. Pushups. Squats. Using your body weight in creative ways."

I leaned forward, determined not to show weakness. I was a she-wolf, and I had teeth too. "Like wrestling?" I said in a sweet voice. "I imagine there are all sorts of creative holds and positions."

His mouth opened slightly, as if he were, for once, at a loss for words. He recovered quickly. Leaned forward until he was only inches from me. "Are you well versed in wrestling, Miss Glass? Are you offering to show me how to
do it
correctly?"

My legs crossed of their own accord, pressing tight against the heat budding between them, and I was suddenly the speechless one. I leaned back, as if suddenly disinterested, though my body screamed for me to teach this man how to wrestle. Except I knew I would be the student. "I don't think you'd be very good at it," I said in an offhand manner.

A baritone laugh burst from his mouth, drawing the eyes of the other patrons. Tyler didn't care. The man operated in his own universe where he made the rules. And I wanted to be in that universe.

Gravity! Hot sun!

What was I thinking? Toying with this man was like lighting dynamite on a short fuse.

"You are a brave woman, Miss Glass. Unabashed. Straightforward. I think we're going to get along very well." Tyler took a drink of water. "Are you done picking at your poor gyro?"

My sexual frustration melted into professional gratitude at his compliment. How the bloody hell did this man do such a thing? "I'm ready to go when you are."

When we arrived back at the office, Sandra held out a note to Tyler. "Your attorney called, sir." She smiled, and to my surprise, it seemed genuine. "I want to thank you for giving us all a stake, sir. I feel like I can actually contribute something useful."

"You are as worthy as anyone else, Ms. Connors." He showed her an easy smile and nodded. "I'll be in my office if anyone needs me."

I went to my office and spent the last hour of the prolonged lunch break reading a romance novel and drinking tea, thankful to be alone. Although the book was good, the steamy sex scenes only made me think of Tyler and his definition of a vigorous workout. I imagined him wrestling me to the floor, pinning my hands above my head, and the deliciousness that would follow.

"Mr. Rock, you're killing me." I crossed my legs tight and attempted to think of something terribly serious to get my mind off his biceps. And his smile. "Bloody hell!" I threw my book at the wall.

I was in big trouble.

Chapter 21

Once Jack and Kevin returned, the work started in earnest. The day flew past, but by the end of it, we felt the new order was off to a great start. Already, three of the programming teams had submitted ideas for improved computer applications, and the sales teams were submitting ideas for new products their clients had requested. We just had to hope the execution would work.

The next day was just as busy. Tyler was away at a meeting, presumably about his other businesses, which was probably a good thing, since Isabel was hosting dinner for us tonight. She hadn't mentioned inviting anyone else, which made things feel a bit awkward. Knowing her, she'd make enough food for ten people. She tended to get overenthusiastic about showing off her cooking.

I took lunch in my office, this time reading a book about exercising—no wrestling involved—when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," I said.

Jack entered, a big smile on his face. "We just sold a huge contract to Everson Security," he said. "They loved the latest proposals."

I put the book down and grinned. "That's great! Have you told Ty—Mr. Rock?"

"Kevin left him a message." Jack rubbed his hands together. "Damn this is exciting! I feel like I'm running my own company."

"It is a good feeling to be in control," I said, even though Tyler Rock made me feel as though I had absolutely no self-control. I paused as a thought entered my head. "Do you have plans tonight?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Did you want to grab some drinks after work?"

"How would you like to join me and my roommate for dinner around seven?"

He shrugged. "Sure, sounds cool. Want me to bring anything?"

"Just yourself."

"Anyone else going to be there besides you and your roommate?"

I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Mr. Rock will be there." I told him about our encounter at Gronsky's and how Isabel had invited him for dinner.

"And you want another guy to balance the hormone levels?" Jack winked.

I laughed. "Three is just an odd number," I said. "Besides, we're friends, right?" I really did like Jack, despite his poor taste in women, namely Ana.

"Yeah, we are." His smile grew. "Count me in. I'll bring some dessert."

After work, I walked home, a little spring in my step. Where that spring came from, I had no idea. Surely I wasn't looking forward to torturing myself with Tyler's irresistible presence, was I?

Yes, you are.

I sensed a familiar chill. A gasp burst from me and I spun to confront—George Walker climbing out of a large black SUV. He and another man dressed in a similar black suit held a scowling teen between them. It was quite obvious the teen was a prisoner.

"Miss Glass, might we have a moment?" George and company remained where they were, apparently aware I was as skittish as a horse.

I calmed myself with a few deep breaths. "Who are these people?"

He nodded at the tall, thin man in a matching black suit. "This is my associate, Mr. Sticks." He indicated the prisoner. "This is young Joseph McAllister."

"It's Joey," the teen protested. "Nobody but my mom calls me Joseph."

"Joseph has been naughty," George said. "I was wondering if you'd mind testing your talent on him."

I looked at the young man. He bared his teeth as if daring me to come closer. His cold presence reminded me of Stephen's. "It's like being near an open freezer," I said.

"Would you mind touching him?" George asked.

"Ooh, yeah, I'd like her to touch me," Joey said with a malicious grin. "If you reach down my pants, you'll find something real nice."

A shudder ran down my spine, but I wasn't about to let this boy's chauvinist attitude scare me off. If anything, it made me more determined. "Perhaps the only thing I'd find is a hairless little piggy." I smiled sweetly. "Perhaps I'd find nothing at all." I took out my stun gun. "Perhaps this would get you off."

Joey's eyes widened. He tried to say something, but Mr. Sticks waved a hand over the teen's mouth. The prisoner struggled, but his lips seemed glued shut.

I looked at Sticks. "What did you do to him?"

The man didn't answer.

"If you don't mind, Miss Glass, we're in somewhat of a hurry." George motioned toward Joey.

I stepped forward and touched the struggling boy's arm. The cold sensation amped considerably as it had when Stephen had grabbed me. This time, it felt almost like a separate presence, like a glowing white reptile filled with power and lust. It had sharp fangs like a snake and longed to strike, to drink. I almost felt as though I could cup the entity in my hands and pull it wriggling from inside this boy. I imagined myself touching it. It felt cold, wet, and slimy.

A cry of surprise burst from my mouth and I staggered back.

George looked at me with great interest. "What did you feel, Miss Glass? Details please."

I described it to him. "Impressive." He looked at Sticks. "What did I tell you?"

Sticks looked me up and down. He nodded.

George looked back to me. "Mr. Sticks approves, Miss Glass. I know you wish to keep your current day job, so I'm willing to offer you something on the side. Would you be interested in assisting us like this from time to time? We can pay you for your efforts."

"What's wrong with him?" I looked at Joey. On the outside, he seemed like a normal teen. On the inside, something was horribly wrong.

Mr. Sticks gave George a long warning look, but said nothing.

"There is a serious virus going around." George spared a sympathetic look for Joey. "It has been ravaging colleges and high schools. Unfortunately, it's incurable, so we have to identify the infected individuals and hold onto them until we decide what to do."

"You don't need to keep up the CDC pretense," I said. "In case you forgot, you told me it's just a front."

"It may be a front, but what we do is very similar." George sighed. "There are criminals in the pharmaceutical industry intent on testing this new viral serum on young people. The serum was once intended to create super soldiers, but someone stole the formula and has been selling it to unsuspecting teens."

Criminals in the pharmaceutical industry? That was something I
could
believe. His stories suddenly made sense. I felt this virus as something living and malevolent. What made this one different from the common cold or any other normal sickness, I didn't know. I had certainly never felt anything like this from other sick people. Perhaps I did have a highly sensitive empathic gift I could use to help people. "I will help you, but only when I have time." I looked at the struggling teen. "Are you looking for a cure?"

George nodded. "We are doing everything we can to make him well." He looked at me as if he wanted to say something else, but stopped. "Thank you for your time, Miss Glass. We'll be in touch." He stopped. "Oh, and I must ask that you keep this work confidential from your roommate and other associates. Should word of this virus get out, pandemonium could ensue."

I didn't like keeping secrets, but understood his thoughts entirely. The population would break into a panic like they did over Ebola and AIDS. "I won't tell anyone."

He climbed into the back seat of the SUV with the unfortunate Joey. Mr. Sticks got into the driver's seat. It was, at least, a normal departure for the ever-enigmatic George Walker. I almost asked how he'd enjoyed hiding in the sewer, but the door closed and I lost the chance.

I headed into the apartment building and my thoughts once again resuming where they'd left off before George had interrupted them.
Tyler.
Isabel was already home, dancing about the space, the wonderful smell of her cooking permeating the air.

"You're home!" She flung her arms around me and danced in a circle to the timing of the music emanating from her laptop. "I cannot wait to see you all dressed up."

I looked at her sweatpants and T-shirt. "Is that what you're wearing?"

"No, silly." She giggled. "The food is ready though, so now we can both get dressed." She took a step back. "Remember, the slinky black dress."

"The one that comes to my knees, or the full-length?"

"Ooh, I'd forgotten about the shorter one. Wear it instead!"

I wished I'd kept my mouth closed. "Okay."

She ran into her room and closed the door. I went into my room and did the same. After sorting through the dense collection of outfits in my walk-in closet, I located the dress in question. It was short, black, and hugged my body. I was almost afraid to look at my backside in the mirror for fear my posterior had expanded from all the Dove bars and alcohol I'd had over the past few weeks.

Isabel knocked on the door. "I'm coming in."

"Come on, then."

She bounced inside, absolutely stunning in an aqua blue dress that contrasted with her olive skin and dark, shiny hair. Her blue eyes shined like sapphires. She looked gorgeous, and she hadn't even put on makeup yet. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror on my closet doors and sighed. My hair looked flat and dull. My skin looked pale, as if I hadn't seen the sun in years.

"You look like a fairy princess," Isabel said. "God I love how fair your skin is. It's like porcelain."

"It's like the moon is what it is." I looked sickly more than anything. "You don't have to make me feel better."

Isabel grabbed my shoulders and turned me toward the mirror. "Em, shut up and listen to me."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Mother."

"Peter was a fucking asshole. A blind, stupid asshole."

My chest froze with pain as her words plowed up buried images of him. "Please, no, Isabel."

"Listen to me Emily."

I shuddered, but kept quiet, eyes downcast.

"You are beautiful. Just because one man treated you like dirt doesn't mean you are dirt."

"I know."

"Do you?" she said. "Do you really know that, or are you just saying it?"

I didn't know the answer to that question.

"You are going to get ready. You are going to project confidence. You are going to blow a hole in Tyler's underpants."

I laughed, and wiped away an errant tear. "Do you really think so?"

She let go of my shoulders and sat on the edge of my bed. "You're one of the most confident women I know, Em. You're confident about everything except your body, and the way you look. It's time you got over that. It's time you put Peter where he belongs—in the god damned dustbin of history."