The Sinner's Bargain (Contracts & Deceptions #2) Page 4

  From: Colin O. Wolfe

  To: Amara Maloof

  Subject: Work

  You don’t have to go to the tasting, but I need you to go somewhere with me next Friday night.

  Amara let out a relieved breath, and replied quickly, surprised at the defeated feeling that ran through her when she realized she was unavailable. Amara had already been commanded to go on a date on behalf of Méchant next Friday night.

  From: Amara Maloof

  To: Colin O. Wolfe

  Subject: Re: Work

  Sorry, but I can’t next Friday.

  Amara waited for a response, but never received one.

  The hours ticked by quickly, and soon the elevator chimed, bringing Brandon back to their floor.

  “Lunch?” he asked, holding the doors open.

  She gathered her things, logged off her computer and joined Brandon in the elevator.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, rushing back to her desk to gather the files Colin had asked for. She walked into his office and placed them where he’d instructed, pausing to attach a sticky note to scribble something she’d wanted to tell him earlier. It’s something she was sure she shouldn’t be confiding to him, but she felt she had to. She didn’t need the added stress.

  Closing the door behind her, she walked back over to Brandon, who was still holding the elevator. The cab stopped two floors under them, where Colin waited beside an older man with dark brown hair—one she knew intimately. Her face grew warm when he smiled at her. Amara quickly looked down at the floor, avoiding Colin’s wide eyes and questioning looks.

  “Going to lunch,” Brandon said as Colin and Samuel stepped into the cab.

  Amara felt like she was being strangled, surrounded by Colin, Brandon, and Sam. She inched toward the corner of the elevator, needing breathing room.

  “Are you okay?” Samuel asked. She looked up, only able to nod in response, her eyes darting to Colin’s. His answering frown asked what the hell was wrong with her.

  “Samuel, this is Amara,” Colin said, finally, and Amara cringed. There was no manual for this—nothing that could tell her what the right thing to do in this situation was.

  “Amara,” Samuel said with a hint of his Italian accent, as he extended his hand to her. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

  She shook his hand and nodded, trying to school her features and not think about their history, but her flesh prickled as she remembered having sex with him and Courtney and the intimate moment she’d become a spectator of as he slid out of Amara and into a waiting Courtney. Still, a flush painted her face as she diverted her eyes. The vibe between them was wrong; she was sure anybody standing within a five-mile radius of them could feel the discomfort seeping from her. Colin glared at their joined hands, his jaw twitching, his eyes narrowing as he put the pieces together. He knew, or at least suspected.

  Colin’s brown eyes pinned Amara, and she was unable to look away until the elevator doors opened for them in the lobby. Amara waved over her shoulder as she quickly scooted out of the elevator behind Brandon.

  “That was… awkward,” he commented as they reached a cab outside the building. She rolled her eyes and almost screamed with joy when they took a cab (normalcy!) to Soho. There was a restaurant Brandon kept raving about, and she was excited to try it.

  “So, how’d you end up working as Colin’s assistant?” Brandon asked in the cab.

  Curious about his interest, Amara cut her gaze from the window to his. “What have you heard?”

  He smirked. “A lot of things, actually. You know how rumors are.”

  “What kind of rumors?” she asked as her heart plummeted into her gut. Did they know about Méchant?

  “Well, someone said you were high school sweethearts. Then someone else corrected her and said college sweethearts. Rumor has it you worked for the best marketing company in Paris, but then Colin offered you double the salary so you can come with for him….” He paused, his eyes flicking to hers to see if any of the above was correct. She gave nothing away, just smiled. “Others say he’s marrying Molly but is deeply in love with you and dying to get you back.”

  “Huh. Interesting rumors.”

  Brandon chuckled. “You’re not even gonna give me an inch?”

  She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I worked for a big marketing company, came back to New York to take care of my sick mom, and Colin offered me a job, being the good friend he’s always been. I took it. That’s it.”

  “What about the bit about him being in love with you?”

  She turned away from him and the sensation in her chest. “Just a rumor.”

  “Huh. The funny thing about rumors is that they’re often true, to a point.”

  “Sometimes,” she said with a shrug.

  The cab slowed to a stop and Brandon signaled her to get out as he paid the driver.

  “That part wasn’t a rumor though,” Brandon said close to her ear as they walked toward the restaurant. “I could see that one this morning.”

  “You couldn’t be any more wrong,” she said with a laugh.

  “All I know is, I’ve never lost a bet, and my bet is on that.”

  “Who are you betting?”

  “Can’t tell you.”

  “Well, get ready to lose, dueler.”

  He smiled. “Never.”

  They settled into a booth and placed their orders.

  “How long have you known Colin?” she asked as she laid out the napkin over her thighs.

  “I met him when I started working here, ten years ago. I started at the bottom, worked my way up, Mr. Wolfe gave me some great opportunities when I needed them,” He shrugged, looking off to the side. “I miss seeing him in the office and learning from him, but when Colin was thrown all this, I knew I needed to help.”

  “So that’s how you ended up as his assistant?”

  His lip twitched. “I was his dad’s secretary for a while. I’m also a really good friend of Benjamin’s. He seems to think Colin needs to be coddled.”

  “Benjamin, huh?”

  “You have remarkable eyes,” Brandon said suddenly.

  “Thanks.” She took a sip of the water brought by the waiter, and looked up again when she heard him laugh. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “How long have you been married?” she asked, eyeing his wedding band.

  “Two years,” he responded, smiling.

  “Cool. What does your wife do?”

  “Personal stylist.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “Yeah, I guess. It’s a word-of-mouth business. She’s gotten a lot of her aunt’s old clients though, so she’s had luck in that department. And she used to work at Barney’s, so she has a lot of people from there.”

  “So she just works from home now?”

  He nodded, running his fingers through his slicked back hair. “Basically.”

  “It sounds nice. No kids?”

  “God, no.”

  Amara laughed at his answer. “I’m assuming you don’t want any?”

  “Not for a while. I mean, I love kids, don’t get me wrong, but I have nephews and they’re a freaking handful. Besides, Chloe wants to wait until she’s older.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  Amara pursed her lips slightly.

  “I’m thirty-two,” he said.

  “Well, I don’t blame her for wanting to wait.”

  “What about you? No boyfriend?”

  “Nope.” She averted her eyes and looked at the waiter, who was weaving his way through the tables with their plates.

  “No kids?”

  Amara laughed. “Definitely not.”

  “Don’t want any?”

  “I want them, just not out of wedlock. My mom would kill me.”

  Brandon smiled and nodded. He had a wide, toothy smile, but it was nice and warm. “You’re close to her?”

  “Very,” she said before taking a bite of her c
urry shrimp.

  He smiled again, looking like he was holding back laughter again.

  “Are you always this smiley?” she asked, finally, setting her fork down.

  Brandon laughed outright and set his own utensils down as well. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m laughing at you or anything.”

  “What am I supposed to think when you’re sitting here laughing while I’m eating? Things like this make women develop eating disorders!”

  “Oh no! Oh no, no, no,” he said apologetically, waving his hands. “I swear I’m not laughing at you. It’s just… you’re so different than Molly. Like, night and day. It’s weird.”

  She felt her stomach beginning to sour at the mention of Molly’s name. “Oh,” she said, her voice was low, almost a whisper. “What is she like?”

  He cocked his head a little, seemingly weighing something out. “You really want to know?”

  Did she really want to know? Not really, no, she told herself. But at the same time, very much so. She wanted Colin back, so as far as she was concerned, Amara may as well know her enemy. She didn’t have much to lose at this point, not from where she sat anyway. She placed her elbows on the table and leaned in.

  “I need to know what I’m up against, right?” she said with a glint in her eyes.

  Brandon smiled broadly. “Well, in that case, she’s snotty and more than a little annoying because she has a nasally voice. She’s bossy, but she’s also unexpectedly kind. She’s a hard worker, and she’s pretty.”

  Nodding, Amara sat back in her chair and took a sip of wine. In that case, she wondered if that was why Benjamin was such a fan of Molly— because she was a hard worker.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I hate nasally voices.”

  His shrugging laughter made her smile.

  AMARA RECEIVED A text message that rattled her out of her slumber, and checked it as she wiped her eyes, huffing when she saw it was from Colin and had nothing to do with work.

  Colin: What are you doing Friday night?

  Amara: Working.

  Colin: ….

  Amara: ….

  Colin: ELABORATE.

  Amara: If you must know, it has nothing to do with Wolfe Ind.

  Colin: Tell me something I DON’T know. Working at Méchant?

  Amara: Yes.

  Colin: Who told you to go there?

  Amara: It’s in my contract.

  Colin: I want that “contract” on my desk by 9:30am tomorrow.

  The next morning, Amara did as she was told and dropped the contract she’d signed with Philip on Colin’s desk. At that point, what did it matter? Her eyes stayed glued to his desk for a long moment to gather her thoughts before moving around his office. She needed to figure out where he kept his business files. She needed to find out how to get into all things Méchant.

  Walking behind his desk, she opened a few drawers. Finding nothing, she crouched down and looked beneath the desk, and as she crouched, the door opened. Amara gasped softly; the idea of getting caught making her heart pound. Still, she stood and brushed off her skirt.

  “Find what you were looking for?” Colin asked. Only then she dared look up at him. Amara didn’t answer at first, just gave him a confused look.

  “My pen fell.” It was stupid, yet the only thing she could come up with.

  He chuckled, leaning back on the now closed door. He was wearing one of his lighter suits, a brown-toned pattern that matched his eyes and highlighted them under those ridiculously long lashes of his. He still hadn’t shaved the scruff of a beard he’d been sporting as of late, and it pronounced the tightness of his jaw when he looked away from her toward the window.

  “You remember that guy you dated in high school? He was on the Rugby team… what was his name…” his words became soft as his thoughts trailed off.

  “Tom,” Amara said.

  “Tom,” Colin repeated, a smile spreading over his face as he turned toward her. The smile made her heart jump because it wasn’t his sweet smile, but neither was it his seductive smile. It was his “I know you’re full of shit, and I’m about to prove it smile.” She clamped her jaws together and began grinding her teeth in what was rapidly becoming an annoying, painful habit. His chuckle enraged her. She had no idea where he was going with this, and she didn’t like it. “You’re starting to look uncomfortable back there. You want to take a seat in my chair while I finish my story?”

  She opened her mouth and closed it. Her heart could feel the jabs of his words, as if he was reaching in and poking her repeatedly. Nonetheless, she sat, desperate to know what his point was, even though she dreaded the answer. Colin’s eyes roamed over his desk, over her, and a wider smile spread on his face as he shook his head.

  “Can you please get to it? I have work to do, and you’re acting weird.”

  He pushed off the door and took a seat in front of her, folding his hands over the table. “This is a good change of pace, right?”

  “Colin…” she prompted.

  “When was the last time you played chess?” he asked, leaning back in the chair and crossing his ankles.

  Her brows furrowed. “Chess? I don’t know. Why?”

  “You used to be good at it,” he said, shrugging.

  “Is there a point to this?”

  “There’s a point to everything. Wouldn’t you say? Even the things that seem insignificant prove to have a point.”

  “Okay, so what’s yours?”

  Colin cocked his head and smiled at her, lopsidedly, his eyes trained on her lips as she licked them. “Sometimes life is like a game of chess—the player has his eyes set on the king and on the checkmate he’s dying to attain—so who does he set his eyes on? What is his target, usually?”

  Amara hated the way her stomach was knotting up, but she swallowed down her trepidation and answered anyway. “The queen.”

  “Come here, I wanna tell you a secret,” he whispered, placing his elbows on the desk and leaning in. She mimicked his stance, leaning in until their faces were only a breath apart. “You’re right,” he said, his minty words tickling over her face, not helping her body’s coiling reaction to his proximity. “The queen is the most important piece on that board. She has the power to slay everybody, any way she wants. The game always looks more promising when your queen is there, but sometimes she’s taken, and you have to depend on whatever pieces of the court are left. Maybe you have a bishop and a rook and you can get far with those you’re your knight…, but still, you don’t have the sense of security that queen gives you.” The gaze in his eyes was so intense she could make out the perfect lines of dark brown that etched the lighter shade of his pupil. She didn’t dare look away from him. He leaned closer then, the side of his face grazing hers, the little hairs on his face making her shiver helplessly and the low chuckle that followed—right beside her ear—causing that shiver to turn into two. “So you see, Mara, some people think they can target my queen. Take her from me. Do with her as they wish. They think I’ll just stand back with my dick tucked between my legs and watch them treat her like a puppet.” He inched even closer, his cologne making her head spin. His words were low, husky, said in the voice he’d used countless times to ground out her name when he was thrusting inside her. She could practically feel him sliding against her, his breath over her as she panted beneath him. Her nipples tightened at the visual in her head as she remembered scraping her nails against his muscled back. “But my girl isn’t a puppet, Mara, she’s a motherfucking queen.”

  “Queens do what they have to,” she responded in a whisper against his ear, wishing she could just bite it, pull the lobe between her teeth gently. Still she held off as she tried to play his game.

  His nose brushed against her jaw, skimming lightly beneath her ear and continued to glide over her face until he reached her chin. He pulled back a little until they were nose to nose again, their eyes searching the other’s. “Queens do what they have to do for the people they love,” he said,
it was a correction.

  Amara agreed, the tip of her nose rubbing his as she nodded.

  “It’s taking all of the restraint I have right now to not kiss you,” he said, his breath fluttering over her parted lips. Unable to resist any longer, she leaned in closer, with every intention of locking her mouth to his, but Colin pulled back. He sat back in his chair leaving her with half of her body over his desk. Her fitted, white blouse was open enough that it afforded Colin a perfect view of her cleavage as she leaned toward him. His eyes blazed as they trailed over her form, from her cleavage to the dip of her back and what he could see of her ass in the black knee-length skirt she wore.

  “I wish I had a mirror behind my desk right now,” he said, his eyes flashing back to hers.

  A short laugh escaped Amara as she pushed herself up from his desk, popping open the top button of her blouse. She smiled when his eyes snapped from her eyes to her shirt and, with a knowing look, she began to undo the rest of the buttons. One by one, the buttons were freed, Colin watching intently, his chest expanding and contracting heavily as more flesh was exposed. His hands clutched the edge of his mahogany desk, as if it was the only thing keeping him from touching her. Amara let the white lace bra she was wearing peek out to tantalize him before she began the process of slowly buttoning her blouse back up, all the while keeping her gaze locked on his.

  “So, who are you playing chess against?” Amara asked as she looped the last button in place.

  Colin swallowed. “You tell me.”

  She smiled and shook her head while rounding the desk to stop in front of him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His hand grabbed hers as she turned to walk toward the door and her face snapped to his in question. “Tom,” he said. “When you were dating, he asked you to homecoming, but you already knew you wanted to break up with him because you thought he was cheating on you, so you made up some bullshit excuse right there on the spot as to why you couldn’t go to prom.”

  “What’s your point?” she asked, taking her hand back. She remembered joking with Colin about going with him and his date and how cool everybody would think he was if he showed up with two girls.