"You can go back," Betty called when she saw me, I recognised her from the last time.
I quickly turned and then nodded, taking a deep breath and heading down the hallway, to the end where Ryan's spacious corner office was situated. I paused at the doorway and stared down at her tanned skin that peeked from the black flats Emma had suggested she wear.
I suddenly felt like the world's biggest idiot. Whatever had come over me to dress like this. I was just about to turn around and go back to the elevator as fast as I could when the door swung open and Ryan Kingsley stood there staring intently at her.
"I was wondering if you changed your mind," he said.
I flushed guiltily, hoping like hell he couldn't read my thoughts. My guilt was probably plain to read on my face.
"I'm here," I said bravely, notching up her chin to stare back at him.
He took a step back and swept his arm past me. "Come in."
I sucked in a breath and entered the lion's den. I've seen his office before but I still studied the interior of the office with keen interest.
It screamed classy and expensive. Rich mahogany wood, polished marble floor that was partially covered with an elegant oriental rug.
The furniture was dark leather with an antique, old-world look. Paintings adorned three walls while the last wall was all built-in bookcases filled with an eclectic mixture of works.
"You look nervous," Ryan said, breaking into my thoughts. "I won't bite, Myra Not yet anyway."
My eyebrows lifted and he motioned for me to have a seat in front of his desk. He pulled the chair out and put his hand to my back as he guided me into place. I shivered at the heat of his touch, and he let his hand linger a moment even after I've taken my seat.
He let his fingers slide up to my shoulder before he finally walked back around his desk to take his seat across from me. For a long moment, he stared at me until heat crawled up my neck and to my cheeks. He didn't simply look at me. He made me feel devoured by his gaze.
"You requested for me," I said in a low voice. Trying my best to be professional.
The corner of his mouth crooked upward. "I did, Myra. I wanted to see you."
My breath stuttered raggedly over my lips and then for a brief time I simply forgot to breathe. I licked my lips and ran my tongue over my bottom lip in agitation.
"For God's sake, Myra."
My eyes widened. "What?"
His nostrils flared and his hands curled into fists on top of his desk. "I want you to come to work for me."
Of all the things I thought he might say, that hadn't been one of them. I stared in astonishment at him as I tried to process the fact that he'd just offered me a job. Good God, I am well on the way to making a giant ass of herself. My cheeks tightened in humiliation.
"I have a job," I said. "You know that."
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand and a sound of impatience erupted from his throat.
"It's not a job worthy of your capabilities and education and you know it."
"It's not like I intend this job to be forever," I defended. "George is my father's friend, he hired me without any experience and I am grateful"
He gave her a look of impatience. "How long have they been telling you that, Myra?"
I flushed and dropped my gaze briefly. I loved my job, I want to be a journalist. I know it will take time but no one starts from the top. I was happy being an editor for now.
"So you don't want me to write a memoir about you?" I say a little disappointed.
"I intend for you to do that as well,"
"You're cut out for more than being an editor. I've read your work, it's very good. You didn't waste your father's money to stuck behind the scenes, people need to read your work."
"I never intended it to be long-term!"
"I'm glad to hear that. So give your notice and come to work for me."
He leaned back, staring intently at me as he waited for my response.
"What exactly is the job you're offering me?"
"You'd be my company's Journalist, I'm opening a new hotel in Hawaii and I need the public eyes"
Just the way he said the words sent a shiver down my spine. The emphasis on personal couldn't possibly be mistaken.
"You don't have a company journalist," I accused. "You never have. You hate them." His company had been very quiet for years now.
"It's true you'd be my first in a long while. I trust that you'd prove a very capable employee."
It was my turn to study him. My eyes narrowed as I took in his intense, brooding expression.
"Why?" I asked bluntly. "What is it you want, Mr Kingsley? And while you're at it, explain the calls."
His smile was slow and deliciously arrogant. "So my kitten has claws."
His kitten? I didn't miss the significance of that little word.
"Don't toy with me. Something else is going on here. Why do you want me to come to work for you?"
His upper lip worked up and down and his nostrils flared as he stared at me from across the desk.
"Because I want you, Myra."
Silence fell, cloaking the room, suffocating except for the loud pulse in my ears.
"I d-don't understand." I stutter like an idiot
He smiled then, a predatory smile that slid over my skin like the smoothest silk. "Oh, I think you do."
My stomach flipped and butterflies swarmed my chest and tickling my throat. This wasn't happening. It had to be a dream.
"What you suggest isn't possible," I said. "If I work for you...we can't..." it will be unprofessional and not add on I just had a drink with his girlfriend.
"Can't we?" he asked mockingly. He leaned farther back into his chair, confident as he turned to the side to stretch his long legs.
"The purpose of your working for me is so you'd be at my side at all times. And I'd have you when I want and how I want."
Heat infused my entire body. She fidgeted in my chair,y hands twisting together. He can't be serious.
"This is ridiculous," I confessed. It was lame. Completely lame as a comeback, but what else was I supposed to say? I was speechless.
My heart was about to beat out of my chest. I knew there was more to this than his words. There was a wealth of meaning in those dark eyes. I felt hunted. Stalked.
"Come here, Myra."
The firm but gentle command washed through me. My eyes widened as my gaze found him, and I did realize he was waiting for me to come to him.
I rose, my legs shaky, and I rubbed my hands down my skirt in an attempt to steady myself. And then I took that first step and walked around the edge of his desk to where he was still seated in his executive chair.
He reached for my hand and once he had his fingers twined with mine, he tugged me down onto his lap. I landed awkwardly but he sat farther up and shifted so I was nestled against his chest and tucked into his side. With his free hand, he delved his fingers into my curls, twisting the strands around his knuckles while he held on to my hand with his other.
"The relationship I'm proposing is not a traditional one," he said. "I'll not have you walking blindly into it without knowing exactly where you stand and what you can expect from it."
"Big of you," I said dryly.
He gave my hair a slight tug. "Little minx." His eyes became half-lidded as he stared into my eyes.
He disentangled his hand from mine and lifted his fingers to my lips where he traced the outline of my mouth with the tip of his index finger.
"I want you, Myra. And I'll warn you now. I'm very used to getting my way."
"So you want me to work for you and you want...me. Physically, I mean."
"Oh yes," he murmured. "Definitely."
"And this relationship you propose. What exactly do you mean by nontraditional?"
He hesitated for the briefest moment. "I'll own you," he said bluntly. "Body, soul. You'll belong to me"
Whoa. That sounded so...heavy. I couldn't even wrap my brain around it. My mouth went dry and I try to lick my lips but stopped remembering his reaction when I'd done it moments earlier.
"I'll guide you through this," he said in a more gentle tone. "I'm not going to throw you to the wolves. I'll be patient as you learn your way through the kind of relationship I expect."
"I don't even know what to say right now," I blurted out. My brain was a puddle.
His hand slid over my jaw and to my cheek. We were on eye level, out mouths just a few breaths apart.
"I think this is where you tell me where I stand with you," Ryan prompted. "Do you want me as badly as I want you?"
Oh God, was this happening? Did I dare to say the words out loud? It was like standing on the ledge of a skyscraper and peering over the edge. Wind in your face, knowing one misstep and you plummet.
His mouth moved closer, past my mouth, skimming over my jawline, his lips just brushing my skin. He nipped at the earlobe, eliciting a full-body shiver that sent chill bumps racing across my flesh.
"Tell me what I want to know," he commanded in a husky voice.
"Y-yes," I croaked.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I want you."
"Myra, look at me."
There was something about the calm authority in his voice that registered with me. Made me hyperaware of his presence, of him as a man. And it made me want him all the more.
Turning my gaze on him, saw the blaze in his eyes. He caught my hair again, tugging slightly as he fiddled with the lock of hair.
"I have a contract," he said. "It outlines every part of our proposed relationship. I want you to read over it very carefully and then I want your decision on Friday."