Queen In Play (The Manhattan Tales Book 2) (15 page)

I looked at Ian as he smoothed the sleeves of his expensive charcoal suit. 

“What services do you provide?  Surely killing is not your only area of expertise.”

16.  Jillian Pryor

Late August

The weeks turned into months. Mason was particularly busy after I confided in him about my occasional nightmares.  He was dealing with a lot of stress that I knew nothing about, because he refused to talk about work during our time together.  I only heard him raise his voice while on the phone.  He’d shut himself away in his study and chew someone out.  When his Vegas expansion opened in June, I offered to accompany him to the grand opening.  He dismissed my offer, saying he was only going to be there for one night and his people had everything taken care of… It was a vague response but I trusted his judgement.

By July, I practically moved out of Piper’s apartment and into Mason’s penthouse.  I spent so much time there, that Mrs. O’Malley began checking in with me regarding the week’s menu and miscellaneous errands.  On the weekends, Mason would take the yacht out on the water.  Sometimes, we’d just stay in and “watch” something on Netflix, but trying to watch a movie with Mason was nothing but a joke.  I can’t tell you how any of the  movies ended.

****

It was a  humid afternoon when I walked through the thick glass doors of J.A. Woodward & Company, holding a stainless steel mug of coffee.  This whole venture gave me such deja vu, but I didn’t mind it.  I hadn’t been in this building since February.

Unlike the last time I’d been here, when Mason ordered me to bring his coffee, he wasn’t expecting me.  This was a surprise.  I had a change of plans earlier in the day, when I stopped by his penthouse to grab the sunglasses I’d forgotten on his night stand. I’d just had a last minute interview for an Intake Case Manager position and I was excited to tell Mason about the interview.

I slipped in, grabbed my sunglasses, and was prepared to slip out before the rich smell of coffee greeted my nose. Maybe some coffee wouldn’t be that bad... Like a caffeine addict, I followed the scented trail all the way to the kitchen.

Mrs. O’Malley was in the kitchen, scuffling about as she multitasked.  She seemed frazzled, with a streak of flour smeared over one side of her face.

“Hi Mrs. O’Malley,” I greeted as I entered the kitchen.  The older woman looked up with a smile on her face. 

“Oh hello, dear.”  She smiled as she rolled out some dough.  I reached into the flawless wooden cabinet above my head and pulled out a yellow porcelain mug. As I poured some of the rich, dark liquid into my cup, I noticed a stainless steel mug of coffee on the countertop. Mrs. O’Malley doesn’t drink coffee.

“Is Mason coming home soon?”  I gave her a questioning look as I blew on my mug.  For a brief moment, I was excited.  I hadn’t seen him and barely heard from him in almost a week. Something was awry but he wouldn’t tell me.

“No, honey.  He just rang the house and told me to bring his coffee.  I swear that boy thinks all I do is run the vacuum and pour his coffee.”

I snorted, nearly choking on the hot liquid as I took a sip.  I coughed, and Mrs. O’Malley was right on top of me, patting my back. I thought it was endearing the way Mason’s old housekeeper spoke about him, like he was just a fifteen year old kid.

“I’ll take his coffee to him,” I said as I gained my breath.

“You’d do that dear?  But don’t you have interviews today?”  She asked as she resumed her baking.

“I had one this morning.  My schedule is a little more relaxed this week so I have some time.”  I was grinning from ear to ear.  “Just don’t tell Mason.  I want to surprise him.”

“Of course, dear.  The lad’s been so busy these days, fussing over his dad and the company.” She shook her head, then added quickly.  “Ain’t none of my business, though…”

I kissed her on the cheek, and then left the penthouse.  Once again, I forgot my sunglasses and my entire reasoning for being there in the first place.  I had Mason’s mug of coffee in hand, and I hailed a cab.

****

Unlike my first time visiting Mason’s office, I was not stopped by security at every turn.  The elevator chimed once it reached the 42nd floor, and I stepped out into the reception area. 

There was Ms. Blue Eyes, the same blonde who was rude to me the first time I brought Mason’s coffee.  She didn’t notice me this time.  She was blushing like a silly schoolgirl, bashfully flirting with a man who was dressed in a charcoal suit. He was slightly leaning over the reception desk, giving her his full attention. She continuously tucked a stray curl of light hair behind her ear as she giggled at the sweet nothings he whispered to her.  His back was to me, so I didn’t see his face, but I could tell that he was a real charmer, whoever he was.

She suddenly looked up with an annoyed expression as I approached the desk, as if to say
how dare you interrupt my flirting session
?  Her pointed stare redirected the attention of the man in the expensive charcoal suit.  He straightened, and turned around with a huge smirk on his handsome face.

“Ian?”  I blinked.

“Ms. Pryor,” He responded with a glint in his eye, and stepped out of the way so I could approach the desk.

I was so confused. 
I thought Mason hated his guts.
  I gave Ian a sideways glance before I focused on Ms. Blue eyes sitting before me.  Her glare was an icy one.

“Hi, Jillian Pryor to see Mason Woodward… I mean, Mr. Woodward.” 
This is some serious deja vu.

She tapped at a keyboard, barely acknowledging me.

“I don’t see your name on this list.”

“He won’t mind, I came to bring him-”

“If your name is not on the list, then it’s a done deal.  I can’t interrupt Mr. Woodward’s meetings.”

I was fuming as I gave her an equally poisonous glare.  There is one characteristic that being with Mason has brought out in me, and that’s my assertiveness.  I never knew I had it in me until I had to butt heads with that man.

I walked away from the desk before I could claw her eyes out.  I’ve been dating this man for three, nearly four months and I wasn’t on his
list?
My hand was twitching as I keyed a message to him.

I’m not on your list???

My phone chimed instantly.

Mason:  What are you talking about?

I answered as quickly as I could.

I’m not on your list of approved people.  :( I planned to surprise you with coffee. Btw your receptionist is rude.

I pressed send.

There.  I said it.  It was probably low of me to tattle like that, but I was pissed.  Sometimes, angry people do foolish things… like cost other people their jobs.  I looked up and saw that Ian was long gone.  The receptionist was staring at the screen of her phone, amidst an occasional eye-roll in my direction. 
What the hell is her problem?

I waited for a text response from Mason, or for him to phone the front desk.  I even looked to see if his secretary, Elizabeth, would appear from around the corner.  There was nothing.  After a few minutes, I was starting to feel foolish and awkward just standing there in the front room.

Suddenly, I spotted Mason round the corner from the hall behind the desks.  He looked delicious in a navy Italian suit, but the knot in his jaw gave a strong indication to his severe mood. There was scruff on his handsome face, and he appeared tired. The staff in the front reception area jumped when they noticed him unexpectedly make contact with humanity.  They scattered to make themselves look busy, or scarce. 

Ms. Blue Eyes didn’t notice him right away, since she was fixated on her phone screen.  He cleared his throat, drumming his long fingers on the polished granite surrounding the reception area as he bore down on her.  She nearly jumped out of her skin, dropping her phone to the floor.  Nervously, she didn’t bother to pick it up as she tried to act cool and collected.  If she hadn’t been so rude to me on more than one occasion, I would have felt sorry for her and tried to advocate for her in some way.

“M-Mr. Woodward,” Blue Eyes stammered as she looked up at him with a nervous smile.

“There seems to be an error in the system that I would like to have looked at,” Mason answered in a business-like voice.  “Please move aside.”

“Of course.”  The receptionist’s face was crimson.  I watched from a distance as Mason tapped at the screen after pulling up a spreadsheet.

Without turning to the receptionist, he pointed at the screen.  “Do you see this name?  This is Jillian Pryor.  She’s on the list, as she was four months ago.  She’s never been removed. Perhaps you were looking for a spelling with a
G
.  Or, it could be that you were too busy flirting with my consultant to pay attention to your job.”  He stood from the chair and smoothed the front of his suit jacket.

“Yes, Sir.”  Her face was aflame.  “I apologize, Mr. Woodward.”

His voice remained smooth, calm, yet authoritative.  “I need people with sense and logic to represent this company.  I’m aware that Human Resources has received some complaints about your representation and work ethic.  Gather your things.  Consider this your final day.” 

What?
  I blinked.

The blonde was left dumbfounded. The other office personnel had gathered from their corners to watch.  They reminded me of little rodents peeking out of their hiding places while the cat was on the prowl.  The woman cast me a brief, deadly glare as she left the front desk to gather her belongings in the back. 
Geez. 

Once she was gone from sight, Mason looked around the front office, and everyone scrambled to busy themselves.  His beautiful light brown eyes met with mine and a slight smirk curled upwards on his lips. It was enough to dampen my panties.

“Ms. Pryor, I’ll see you in my office now.  I apologize for the wait.”  He turned to walk around the desk and headed down the hall, assuming I’ll follow him.  Of course I followed him.  I held his stainless steel mug of coffee as I walked behind him.  He stopped after a few long strides, and waited for me to catch up.  He kept his hand on my lower back as he guided me toward the double mahogany doors of his office, keeping appearances business-like and professional.

He opened the door and waited for me to step inside.  Then I heard the click of the lock behind me, and he stood there with a dark, hungry look in his eyes.  My back suddenly hit the locked door, and his masculine scent overpowered me. 

“I missed you,” he gave a low whisper in my ear.  I wrapped a thigh around his body as he kept me pinned against the wood of the doors.

“Whose fault is that?”  I gave a coy response.  His lips crashed down on mine, and his kiss was ravenous, sensual, and left me breathless.  He didn’t budge.  His strong, powerful body kept me plastered in place. 

“If you take one step further into my office, I’m going to bend you over my desk and pump my cock so deep inside, you’ll be sobbing, sore for days.  Can you handle that, my darling?”  His whisper was demanding, yet velvety and seductive. 

Heat washed over my body, and I felt my toes curl inside the flats on my feet.  It wasn’t just his words, but the way in which he said them.  His silky tone and inflection combined with his domineering presence made me so wet and aching. 

“If you must insist… I suppose I must submit to your will,” I responded huskily.  His eyes glittered darkly as his hands roved over my round hips, up to my breasts.  A hand, slid up my thigh, inching the fabric of my knee-length violet dress higher until the sheer black thigh-highs I wore were exposed.  Mason sucked in a sharp breath, barely able to maintain his composure as he noticed what I wore beneath my dress:  matching black lace bikini bottoms to go with the thigh-highs.

I pushed him away lightly and ducked away from his hold.  It was easy to do when he wasn’t expecting it.

“You fucking tease,” he groaned slightly as he adjusted his pants with some obvious discomfort.   I smirked to myself as I walked away from him, and sensed him follow me close behind.

I grabbed him by his chocolate brown silk tie and pulled him toward the desk.  He was surprised by my playful assertiveness inside his office, but he wasn’t about to force his control.  I pushed him into his office chair, which rested beside an expansive backdrop of Manhattan on a clear, sunny day in late afternoon. 

“Jillian…”  His voice was gravelly as he watched me drop to my knees in front of him.  His fingers clenched so tightly around the armrest of his office chair, that his knuckles turned white.  Slowly, agonizingly slowly, I pulled the zipper to those expensive business pants down.  I kept my dark eyes locked with his light brown ones.  He stared down at me with such desperate need and anticipation, knowing what I was about to do.

“You implied you were having a bad day, Sir,” I looked up at him with innocent eyes.

I unbuckled his pants so slowly, painfully slowly, and I took delight in watching the tick in his jaw form into a knot as his knuckles clamped white again. I knew it was taking everything he had within him not to overpower the situation and shove my head down.

“It’s not so bad anymore,” he answered with a rasp in his British voice.

Enough with the torment.  If I keep this up, he’ll ruin those expensive pants.  I slid his pants and black boxer briefs down just a bit.  His length was already full and rock hard.  I took his thick length in my hands and slowly massaged.  He dipped his head back slightly and let out a deep breath.