He could tell she was angry, and no longer the ice queen she’d been when he walked in. It made him smile that he’d been able to affect her. “I’ll show you how worth it I am. But I have to say, I was under the impression from your partners that I’d be running Di Terrestres. Hence, that large salary.”
“That’s a joke. I run Di Terrestres. I can’t be blamed for any misinformation you were given by my associates.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Good question.” They each watched the other, and the more Michael dueled with Alana, the more frustrating she became. And the more a sick part of him enjoyed it.
She sighed, and he wondered if he was finally wearing her down. “Let’s get this over with, and we’ll see where you belong here,” she said. “What sorts of things have you been credited with in your old club. What did you do there?”
He sobered, and for a moment forgot about their battle of wills and the sexual tension and got back down to business. Sure, he was having fun playing with Alana, but there were few things Michael took as seriously as his old club. When it was his. “Originally, Swings was my idea. There were some deficiencies in the London kink and swing scene. It was limited to a few private parties here and there, held in private homes. But as you can imagine—going to a person’s home or someone else’s dungeon opens you up for all kinds of risks. We gave people a place to safely play. But we made it accessible to most people. Not just the super rich. With different price points and levels of membership, our first-tier dues are modest, but the application process is still as intense, and people had to be referred by a member.”
“Did you see any challenges with that? Allowing it to be more open?”
He shrugged. “Everyone deserves to have fun, as long as they follow the rules and respect other people. We had a private area for more well-known patrons, but everyone at all tiers was able to enjoy the facilities. Maybe that’s something we could do here. Increase profits by finding a way for allowing everyone to come here.”
“I wouldn’t start making big plans yet,” she told him.
“Are you so afraid of change?”
She said nothing. Michael sat back and regarded her. The angrier she looked, the more defiant the look in her eyes, the sexier she became, the more he liked it, and it made him smile. She had a tough, cold exterior, but he could see the passion that burned underneath the facade. “Control,” he said.
She blinked, looked startled. “What?” she asked, even though he knew she heard exactly what he’d said.
He grinned. “You get off on control, don’t you?”
Watching Alana as she busied herself with some files on her desk, straightening them in a stack, and then restraightening them, not looking at him, he thought this might be the way to get beneath that tough exterior. She didn’t respond.
“Am I right?” he prodded. “You like to show you’re in charge, no matter where you are, don’t you?”
“What are you doing?” Alana’s voice was low.
He shrugged. “I’m just trying to get to know my new boss. Tell me what you’re into. When you go downstairs, where do you go? The dungeon?” He thought about it, and shook his head. “No, I don’t think you’re a dungeon woman. Orgy rooms? I have to say no again, because I don’t see you having fun unless you are in complete control. A fem domme?” he asked himself, knowing she wouldn’t answer. He nodded in appreciation at the thought. “Well, that’s intriguing.” He had to admit, he liked to be in charge, but he might seriously let Alana call the shots if she wanted to. Perhaps. Maybe once. Then he would show her exactly how he liked to be in control.
“You are seriously skating on the line of a sexual harassment suit,” she warned him. “I don’t know how you ran things in London, but we have a professional place of business here. We keep our extracurricular activities separate from work, and we expect the same from our staff. So, if you expect to have a future here, I recommend you remember that.”
“I will. And I respect your policies.” That part was true, but that didn’t mean he was done prodding her. “You’re definitely not a woman who likes to be told what to do, are you?”
“You’re unbelievable.” She shook her head, and closed her eyes. He knew she was losing patience with him. And he loved it. “This interview isn’t going particularly well.”
He grinned, still desperate to break through her walls and see the passion he knew was underneath. “Depends on who you ask, I guess. But I’ve already got the job, remember? Tell me how you like to be in charge.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with this.”
Michael pushed himself up from the couch, and took the step to stand in front of her desk. Flattening his palms on the desktop, he leaned over it and watched her. Her eyes were widened with surprise, her pupils dilated as they locked on his. Her shoulders heaved with her deep breaths. Every one of her actions, the micromovements of her face exhibited desire. He knew she wanted him.
“I think it has quite a bit to do with us.”
She blinked. “Us?” Her laugh was more of a coughing sound, and she looked away from him briefly, as if she were trying to hang on to the control that he was pulling from her grasp. But she looked up, confident, and he could see that she was still holding her own. Alana Carter was a formidable opponent. A coldness came over her eyes. “Let’s get this straight, Michael. I might run an erotic club, which my partners may have hired you for, but my own sexual proclivities are none of your business. As for us, I’m your boss. You’re my employee. And I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, or what it is you’re trying to prove coming in here and swinging your big old dick around,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But there is no us.
“And as for you thinking you’re going to come in here and fluster me, throw me off guard, dominate me,” she ground out, “whatever your goal is here, it isn’t going to work. Every single day, men come in here and think they’re going to have their way with me—in the boardroom, the job site, the bedroom—but every time I make sure to let them know just how wrong, how small, they are.” She drew her pink tongue over her top teeth. “And they never try again.”
“You sure about that?”
Alana’s laugh was humorless, and held an edge of malice. Although she was at least a foot shorter than him, she faced him. “Look at the set of balls on you,” she said, her voice a dangerous whisper. “You think you can stroll on in here and presume to run my club. I know a man who looks like you, carries himself like you is used to having women fall at your feet, ready to do whatever you want. But listen to me, buddy, I’m not like those women. I will break you down, piece by piece, and completely dismember you.” She jutted her chin in his direction. “And I’ll keep those big balls of yours in a jar in my Birkin bag.”
A slight shiver crawled up Michael’s spine. Impressed and a little frightened of the woman in front of him, he stepped back from her. “You’re good.”
“I know,” she said, a self-satisfied grin spreading across her face as she crossed her arms. “So, don’t think you’re going to beat me, or that I’ll give up control of my club that easily.” Her smile turned full, revealing straight white teeth behind ruby red lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And you want some advice before you go?” she asked. “I promise, it’ll make your day a little easier.”
“And what’s that?”
She leaned close so that their lips were only inches apart. He could taste her sweet breath. “The dry cleaning place closes at six,” she whispered. “You’d better leave now if you hope to make it.”
Michael looked at her, then at the tags he’d put on the desk. He wasn’t her errand boy, and that wasn’t how their business relationship was going to work. But