Hell on Heels(8)By: Victoria Vane
Evan strolled over and perched his hip on her desk. “If you can hold off a couple of days, I’ll clear my schedule and fly you out on the Gulf Stream. I’m overdue for a visit to Vegas. Besides, it’s been way too long since we’ve had any quality time together.”
Quality time was Evan’s euphemism for sex.
Monica frowned. “This is hardly a pleasure trip, Evan.”
“Maybe not. But we can still take advantage, can’t we? If I spend a day or two scouting out investment opportunities we can write the whole thing off as business.”
Her frown deepened. “I can’t believe you. My father could be dying, and you’re talking about sex and tax deductions? Don’t you have any sensitivity?”
“Sure I do, and it’s all right here waiting for that pretty mouth of yours.” His thumb stroking slowly over her lips told her exactly what he wanted. “Make it good for me, Mon,” he murmured darkly, “and I’ll make it just as good for you.”
“Don’t you get it, Evan?” She jerked away. “I’m not in the mood.”
He exhaled a curse. “For Christ’s sake, Monica, it’s not like he raised you.”
“Maybe not, but he’s still my father!”
“Fine. I understand, but you’re not leaving until the morning. You can’t do anything for him, so why not take care of me? C’mon, I need you, Mon. Now, baby.”
“Why does everything always have to be about you? The entire world doesn’t revolve on your command.”
He smirked. “Maybe not the entire world, but certainly this corner of it. You’d do well to remember that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve got a damned nice setup here, Ms. Brandt.” He cast a slow, appraising gaze over her office before it landed back on her. “Great job . . . expensive office . . .”
Her stomach knotted. “Where are you going with this?”
“I’m just saying a little more appreciation wouldn’t be out of order.”
“I don’t like your insinuation. You didn’t give me any of this. I earned it.”
He came around the desk, cornering her in her chair. “Is that what you think? Think again, sweetheart.” His lips curved into a humorless smile. “Evan giveth, and Evan can just as easily taketh away.”
His words gave her a sudden chill. “Is that some kind of threat?”
Did she even know this man? She’d seen his ruthlessness in business, and now, for the second time in their relationship, he’d revealed a darker, controlling, and manipulative side that made her increasingly uncomfortable.
“Not at all,” he replied mildly. “I’m simply reminding you that nothing worthwhile in this world comes for free. You’ve been around long enough to know that. You scratch my back, I scratch yours, and all that.... But it’s not my back that’s itching. So tell you what, Mon, I’ll make this whole thing real simple. You take care of me and I’ll take care of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Blow me and I’ll let you take my plane to Vegas. One call and you fly out tonight. You see how neat that is?” He flashed a smug smile. “We each get what we want. Problem solved.”
She weighed his offer—ten minutes on her knees in exchange for a flight on a private jet. She could be by her father’s side in a matter of hours. It did seem simple on the surface. It wasn’t as if she’d never given Evan head before, and she even had his ring on her finger. But on deeper examination, the whole thing felt far too much like emotional extortion.
She studied his face, wondering what other surprises lurked beneath the surface. “What if I refuse?”
He shook his head slowly, a deep frown furrowing his brow. “Now, why the fuck would you want to do that? I asked you nicely, Monica. I even offered you an equitable trade. Now you’ll do it because I told you to.”
“Excuse me?” Monica gaped as if she regarded a stranger. “I’m not some whore at your beck and call, Evan. And I refuse to be treated like one.” Her hands shook uncontrollably as she wrenched the five-carat Cartier solitaire off her finger and set it on the desk between them.