Sarah continues. “Jack Huston, like, never shows his face in public. He hasn’t since his fiancée died.”

  A lump forms in my heart. “His fiancée died?”

  “Yeah. Did you know? It was all over the news like three years ago.”

  I shrug. “Guess I need to pay attention to the tabloids a little more.”

  His expression is hard, and his face has way too many angles. He’s got on a charcoal gray suit, carrying an aura of seriousness about him in a college bar where everyone else seems notably carefree.

  Sarah leans toward me, wiggling her eyebrow. “I wish he’d bid on me in the charity auction. I mean, he has the money.”

  “Yeah,” I cough out. “Well maybe he’ll bid on you.”

  Jack walks through the crowd, his eyes slightly above the crowd. Though he’s not scanning the crowd. Like a predator, he’s focused on something in the back of the room.

  “I’m going in,” Sarah says, a wild look in her eye.

  She makes a beeline for the man. All I can do is watch as the scene unfolds.

  Sarah’s wearing a white, strapless dress. Her boobs are practically spilling out of her top.

  While the rest of the college students are paving the way for him to walk through, she trips, falls, and spills all of her drink on herself, and lands right in Jack Huston’s arms.

  My heart palpitates, jealousy screaming through me.

  I watch Sarah’s eyes flit up toward Jack, her mouth open—she’s even pressing her boobs against him.

  “Oh,” she drawls, doing her best to sound extra sweet. “Pardon me, Sir.”

  The noise in the crowd dies down as everyone waits to see what Jack will do.

  His expression turns into a scowl. “Looks like someone’s been overserved. You’re cut off. Bilbo?” he says, turning to the bouncer next to him. “Please make sure this nice young lady doesn’t have any more drinks.”

  “You got it, Boss,” he says.

  Just then, his gaze lands on mine. He holds my gaze for what is probably two seconds, but seems like an eternity.

  I avert my gaze, still feeling his eyes on me.

  Tonight I’m wearing a cream dress, much more modest than Sarah’s.

  But that doesn’t seem to stop Jack Huston from dragging his eyes slowly from my legs back up to my face, like a feather across flesh.

  Chills race feverishly over my body, and in a flash, he turns away, walking toward the back of the bar.

  Sarah walks back toward me, tail between her legs.

  “Well, that did not go as expected,” she says, her eyes downcast. “A girl’s gotta dream though, right?”

  George finally arrives back with us. He seems to be totally unaware of what just happened.

  “So.” He wiggles his eyebrows creepily. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I’ve got twenty-five grand for you, girl. At least. I can’t wait to be your first.”

  He slides his hand down my hip.

  I try to shield the fact that I’m gritting my teeth.

  I shut my eyes, hard, and try to pretend it’s Jack Huston’s hand. It doesn’t work.

  My disgust turns to anger.

  Who says that? I don’t have the heart to tell George that in my mind, I’ve already placed him firmly in the friend zone, sadly for him.

  I tried not to. I tried so hard to like him.

  * * *

  I feel like Dorothy in Wizard of Oz, except I’m wishing I could click my heels three times and be back in Jack Huston’s office.

  Even just remembering that morning meeting makes my pulse race.

  “Stacy. Stacy!”

  When I open my eyes, Bilbo the big bouncer is standing right in front of me, vein popping out of his bald head and all.

  “I need you to come with me,” he says.

  “Oh, I wasn’t the one who stumbled,” I say, waving him off.

  “That would be me!” Sarah says, smiling and raising her hand like we’re in class.

  “I’m aware of who stumbled. I don’t forget anything. And I need you to come with me,” he says, pointing unmistakably at me.

  I gulp down a heap of fear, and glance at the glass in my hand. “This is only my second drink. I’m not drunk, I swear.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Just do what he says, Stacy,” George utters. “For the love of God.”

  A feeling of loathing rolls up in me when I hear George say that. Any last ounce of respect I had for him fades, knowing that he’ll fold at the slightest authority rather than stand up for me. For the first time, I hope he’s got competition in the bidding tomorrow.

  “Stacy. Come,” the bouncer says again.

  Sarah heaves a shrug. “No idea what’s happening right now,” she says.

  I follow Bilbo, and he leads me to the back of the bar.

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask, my heart pounding like rumbling thunder.

  He says nothing, opens a door with a key then leads me to the edge of a walkway that heads down some stairs to the basement.

  “Mr. Huston would like to see you.”

  My eyes practically bulge out of my head.

  “How is he...where do these stairs...” I try to formulate a coherent question, but my voice is shaky.

  My thoughts muddle with a million different possibilities.

  Adrenaline rushes through me and my heart throbs.

  Bilbo turns back and is about to leave.

  “Just head down the stairs,” he says.

  “You know what? No. I’m not okay with this.” I start to head back and escape out of this place.

  “Nah ah,” Bilbo says in a low voice. “Mr. H would like to see you.”

  My skin tingles everywhere, fear and desire flaring up through my body.

  “What’s Mr. H got to do with this?” I ask desperately, but he closes the door with a loud click before he answers.

  Scared, I turn back and try to open the door to get back in the bar, rattling the doorknob desperately.

  It’s locked.

  There’s no turning back, now.

  My insides flip, and I swallow a huge lump of nerves. Liquid heat spreads through my body. Scared as I may be, excitement rushes under my skin.

  * * *

  Yesterday, he knew what I wanted—what I needed—to the T.

  So what could he have in store for me now?

  Jerking my head around, I try to make out what’s in the cellar below, but there’s barely any light emitting from the stairs.

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes, wishing I had one more drink.

  My mind is buzzing, but not off alcohol. Just off pure adrenaline. This feels one step away from pure insanity to step into a dark basement. But with no idea what’s ahead of me, I start down the stairs, hugging the railing so as not to trip in my heels.

  Chapter Four

  Stacy

  My heels click on the wood as I descend into the basement.

  Minutes ago, I was fantasizing, pretending Jack’s hand was running over my hip.

  Wishing it was his and not George’s.

  Now a throbbing panic spreads throughout my body as I step into the darkness of the basement.

  My mind races with the possibility of what all this could mean. But what is my boss doing at Mix It Up on a Saturday?

  And what on earth is my boss doing having his bouncer send me down to the basement.

  I squint when a light flips on. It’s a soft, dim glow, but I shield my face while my eyes adjust.

  Mr. Huston stands with his arms crossed.

  Suddenly, a wisp of anger overtakes me, and a swirl of emotions tumble inside me.

  Anger, fear, and yes, desire.

  But right now, anger prevails. Maybe I didn’t like the way George’s hand felt on my body. Sure, maybe I was imagining this scenario. But that doesn’t mean my boss has a right to trap me like this.

  I don’t know where this new reserve of power is coming from. But I straighten my shoulders and walk toward him, heels clicking loudly on the concrete floor. My expression is unsmiling.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” I ask bluntly. “I’m enjoying a night with my college friends upstairs, and you just have your bouncer escort me into the dark basement like this? I demand to be let free from here.”

  He smirks. “Wow. So spicy today. Have a seat, Stacy.”

  I pop my hip and stare at him some more, hesitating. The deep blue color of his rich eyes threatens to hypnotize me. Along with those long lashes.

  “Sit,” he growls, his voice fierce.

  I swallow, glance at the nearby chair, and do as I’m told.

  “You think I expected to fucking see you tonight? You were the last person I wanted to see, trust me.”

  I pinch my eyebrows together. “I was? You didn’t come in here to stalk me?”

  “I came in here,” he says, “because I own this bar and I used to come here with...” he trails off.

  “With who?”

  “You know what, it’s none of your goddamn business why I came here.” He scowls. The fear hops up in me, suddenly my top emotion again. I rub my hand along my arm and cast my eyes downward.

  “It’s just... Mr. Huston, I feel like yesterday happened very quickly.”

  “Call me Jack.” He pulls up a chair across from me and leans back. “Jack. And yes, you’re damn right it happened quickly.”

  “So I don’t understand. Why are you here? And pardon me, but I feel like we don’t even know each other.”

  “So let’s get to know each other.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Without saying anything, he gets up from desk and makes two old-fashioned.

  “I know you’re a whisky girl,” he says with a smirk.

  A smile tugs at my lips. “Sure am.”

  We clink glasses and each take a sip. It’s so damn smooth, and the hard cherry taste tingles on my tongue.

  Butterflies well up in my stomach when I look at Jack again.

  “Stacy Belle. Or should I say April Ashley?”

  I shudder when he says my auction name.

  “You want to talk? Let’s talk. I know you’re a senior in college. That you’re apparently a virgin, and you’re wrapping up your marketing degree. And that you’ve never been with a man.”

  “All correct.”

  “So what’s your longest relationship?”

  “Dated that same girl for four months, first semester in college.”

  “And you never had any sex?”

  “She wanted to. But I didn’t at the time. I was raised as a Jehovah’s Witness. My parents were super strict. They wanted me to wait until after marriage. Presumably with a guy. At the time, I thought that’s what I wanted, too.”

  He nods. “And then that poor fireman almost died, so you decided to auction off your virginity.”

  “Well,” I say then pause to take another sip of my drink.

  “So you never even came close?”

  “Actually, we did come close.”.”

  My mind wanders, despair tightening my throat. I haven’t talked about this in a while.

  “Oh?” He arches an eyebrow.

  I feel my shoulders tensing. “Me and my girlfriend in college—Florence was her name. She was really great. We were all set to do it after Christmas break. We had dated for four months, and she didn’t even pressure me.”

  He nods and sips his drink.

  “Anyways, Florence and I—wow, I haven’t said her name in forever—planned everything out. She was going to take me to a nice dinner at our favorite place in town, Uncle Steve’s Fried Chicken. I know it sounds silly, but it was kind of our place. So we were going to do that, go bowling at Chips, and then go back to her dorm room. We had the night planned down to the minute.”

  Jack’s jaw twitches. His eyes are so intense as he looks at me. I feel like he’s hanging on my every word. And this is a story I haven’t revisited for years. Actually, I don’t know if I’ve ever told anyone all of these details.

  “So why didn’t you go?” he asks. “Did you break up?”

  I blow out an audible breath, and look up toward the ceiling. “Florence died in a car accident when she was driving back from her parents’ home in Colorado.”

  “Holy fuck. I’m so sorry to hear that,” he says immediately, and his eyes glaze over.

  I’m a little surprised to see this sensitive side of the man who, not even forty-eight hours ago, made me feel as though I was an instrument and he was a master pleasure-giver.

  Still, I’m expecting some kind of cocky response as I wipe away tears, but instead he casts his eyes toward the floor.

  Is he wiping away a tear, too?

  “That really sucks,” he says, his voice gravelly. “I can’t imagine what that would have been like to lose someone so important to you at such a young age.”

  I lean toward him and put my hand on his knee.

  “Mr. Huston—I mean Jack—are you okay?”

  He looks up at me.

  “I’m fine,” he says, choking out the second word. “It’s nothing,” he says.

  As someone who has said I’m fine a lot over the past three years, I know the signs of a liar.

  Jack’s hand is directly over his heart when he says it’s nothing.

  Something is haunting this man, just like the memory of Florence haunts me. I can sense it.

  “What’s haunting you, Jack?” I ask, my voice soft. I let my hand fall to his and brush his skin. His skin is warm to the touch.

  I size him up, wondering what’s running through his head. If he knows I’m trying to draw out happened with him and his fiancée now that Sarah let me in on that story.

  The word intense doesn’t do him justice.

  His eyes and his expression are totally dark. I feel a strange energy coming from him; a yin and yang mix of vulnerability and strength. For a fleeting moment, I see someone totally different from my boss and known celebrity businessman Jack Huston.

  Yes, he’s maybe ten years older than me.

  Maybe he’s worth three billion dollars and I am worth negative money considering my student loans.

  But right now, we’re on the same level.

  He doesn’t say what’s haunting him, though. Instead, our lips meet in the space between our bodies.

  He’s tender at first as he cups my jaw, his fingertips spreading over my cheek.

  Our mouths explode in need.

  It’s a messy make out. I rake my hand through his short, thick hair. He cradles my neck and massages my scalp. I let a few soft moans escape.

  A minute later, he’s pried me up from the chair and presses me up against the wall, his hands roughly running down my hips.

  Just like I wished up at the bar.

  “Oh God, Jack,” I mutter, my feet quivering as he kisses the shit out of my neck, sucking roughly at my skin, then running his tongue along my collarbone.

  He takes a step back.

  “I don’t like getting to know you,” he growls. “We should have kept this strictly business. You’re my employee, for fuck’s sake.”

  His arms hang at his sides, relaxed. All of a sudden, his shoulders seem broader. The tinge of vulnerability I saw in his eyes is gone.

  And he’s staring at me like he’s the big bad wolf and I’m about to get eaten.

  “Take your dress off,” he orders.

  I hesitate for a moment. He cocks his head just slightly, his eyes totally expectant.

  I do as I’m told. And as I slip the dress over my head, I heave a few quick breaths, feeling extra vulnerable.

  My skin tingles with equal parts fear, nervousness, and possibility.

  He runs his tongue around his lips as he disrobes, taking off his suit coat, tie and shirt.

  All the while, he doesn’t take his eyes off me.

  I reach to my heels to take them off.

  “Heels on,” he commands, and I freeze.

  Shirtless, he steps toward me.

  I can’t believe the surreality of this entire situation.

  Hooking up. In the basement of a college bar, with my current boss.

  I have many unanswered questions at the moment. If he wasn’t looking for me, why is he here?

  What haunts Jack Huston so badly that he nearly tears up?

  But more pressingly, what is he planning on doing with me tonight?

  “You look so fucking gorgeous right now. I want to you to know that,” he says as he takes a few steps toward me.

  He’s so close I can feel the heat emanating from his body.

  “Thanks,” I say, casting my eyes down.

  “So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers again, and I lean my face into him, running my tongue along his chest.

  “Stop,” he orders. “No touching.”

  “So you can touch me, but I can’t touch you?”

  “It’s not—I haven’t been touched in years. Since Cara—” He rakes a hand through his hair, seeming frustrated all of the sudden.

  “Cara? Who’s Cara?”

  “Not the time,” he says. He runs a hand from my waist up my back, and unhooks my bra.

  “So you don’t like it when I touch you?” he adds with a smirk, as he brings his fingers around to my front and gently rubs my nipples.

  “Oh God, Jack. That feels...”

  Arching my back, I toss my chin up.

  Amazing, I want to say, but no words come out.

  Seems like he realizes the effect he’s having on me as he trails kisses down my stomach and to my belly button. I push my hips into him and he hooks a finger into my white panties.

  I don’t like wearing thongs, but I instantly wish I’d worn one today.

  For him.

  He pulls down my panties and kneels in front of me.

  All I see is his thick, dark-brown hair as he runs his tongue along my inner thighs.

 

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