The door to the holding cell opened and out stepped a police officer, followed by a red-faced, humble Arizona.
“I’m so sorry,” she gushed. “I can’t thank you enough. I’ll repay every penny, I promise.” Marcus looked at her, expressionless and pure business.
“I want daily financial updates Arizona. A breakdown of absolutely everything you spend and earn, down to the penny. If, after three months, there’s a clear and significant improvement, we can move to twice a week. I need to be all over this.”
She nodded, meekly.
“There’s a cab waiting for you outside. I suggest you get some sleep. From tomorrow you’re going to work the hardest you’ve worked in your entire life. Do you understand?”
She nodded again, “I do. And I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done.”
This might be the last time I ever see Arizona, thought Lottie, tears welling up behind her eyes. She blinked them back, firmly. “Good night Arizona,” she said, kindly, receiving a grateful kiss on the cheek.
“I’ve pinged you the draft statement,” Eliza said to Marcus. “I’ll plan out the next steps this evening and send you my proposal in the next day or two.”
“Thanks Eliza, I really appreciate it.” Marcus replied.
“I should get going too.” George said, looking at his Rolex. It was past midnight and he’d done everything he’d needed to: he’d signed for Arizona’s bail and agreed to a hearing. The exact fine would be confirmed in due course and he’d negotiate a payment schedule that might give Arizona a chance to pay back her mounting debts while still keeping the business afloat. He’d been everything Riya had promised: speedy, discreet, strictly professional.
“Thanks for everything,” Lottie said. “Do you need help getting home?”
“No, thanks. I’ll get the last tube.” Then, turning to Marcus, he said. “I’ll write up a report first thing and I’ll have an estimate on the fine for you Monday morning.”
“Thanks George,” Marcus replied.
Lottie watched as they both left the station, nerves rising up in her belly. This was it. It was now just Marcus and her, alone. This was the moment she’d been wishing would never come. She was going to have to say goodbye. Marcus turned to face her. Lottie couldn’t read him at all. Usually he seemed irritated, angry, or plain business-like. This time his face was soft, as though he might actually be friendly.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, quietly.
“And go where?” she asked, confused. Surely, she should be heading home right about now, having been given her marching orders.
“There’s a place around the corner, Blacksmiths. I need a drink. And we need to talk.”
“Okay,” she answered, struggling to keep the hurt out of her voice. The cruelty of delaying the inevitable wasn’t lost on her but she was grateful for a few more minutes in his company.
Marcus followed Lottie out of the station, unable to banish the feelings of lust that flickered inside his chest. He knew he had to fire her, but he couldn’t bring himself to just yet. It would be such a loss to Falcon, and – dare he think it – to him. He’d come to enjoy the tension between them, depend on it. It spurred her on; it spurred him on. It was as though she provided competition, reminded him of what he was capable of and why he got started in business in the first place. But then, he reasoned, he’d be breaking the law if he let her stay. She’d committed fraud. He knew that and he’d need to declare it to the board, otherwise he too would be breaking the law. He recalled her eyes, wide and bright, hanging onto his every word; it was such a turn on. And then there was her body. He was used to seeing her in figure-hugging dresses, almost obscene in their immaculate cut, the skimming of the fabrics, the slightly-too-low necklines, the teasing splits. But this evening she was wearing skinny jeans and a fitted white t-shirt. She’d taken off her coat, complaining of feeling too warm which Marcus wondered about, briefly. It had been freezing inside the station. He could clearly make out a cream lace bra beneath the thin cotton of her top, her nipples hard. He’d had to make a strong, conscious effort not to glance down at her breasts or allow himself to get even faintly excited at the sight of her.
He followed as she walked deftly out on to the busy street in her trainers, then she stopped and looked back at him for direction.
“It’s this way,” he nodded, putting a hand lightly on her back. He felt her jump beneath the coat at his touch. What the fuck am I doing? He thought to himself. I should have told her back there in the station, when she was expecting it. She knows I have to do it. Why am I dragging this out? He propelled her towards a black door in a non-descript building. The only evidence it was a member’s club was a discreet gold plaque at the side of the door. Marcus rang the bell and, almost immediately, the door opened and a doorman dressed in a long tail jacket appeared.
“Ah, Mr Armstrong,” he said, recognising Marcus instantly. “Do come in.”
“I have a guest, James.” He put his hand on Lottie’s back again, sending her gut spinning. “This is Charlotte Matheson.”
“Of course, welcome Miss Matheson.”
“Charlotte, please,” she answered, feeling more and more light-headed with each passing minute.
“May I take your coat?”
Lottie slipped off her parka and handed it to the doorman, self-consciously. Marcus handed his over too and for the first time, Lottie saw he was also wearing a casual t-shirt, one that clung to his chest and arms. It was dark grey and made from fine, expensive cotton that looked as new as the day it was sewn. She stifled a sharp intake of breath. He really was gorgeous, and more so when he hadn’t made an effort. This was his version of casual, and it was breath-taking.
“This way,” he said to Lottie, recognising and enjoying her admiration. She followed him through corridor after corridor, through small fire-lit rooms, secluded booths and alcoves, until eventually they arrived in a small lounge tucked away in the corner of the building. There were several clusters of chairs and tables. At one corner sat a couple talking quietly. At another table sat three young professionals chatting animatedly. No-one paid much attention to the investment mogul and his soon-to-be-fired protégée as they seated themselves beside the inglenook fire which sizzled contentedly. No sooner had they sat down than a waiter, dressed head to toe in black, appeared from seemingly nowhere.
“The usual, sir?” He asked Marcus.
“Yes please. But make it a large, with ice.”
“Of course. And for you, madam?”
“I’ll have the same,” she replied.
Marcus raised an eyebrow once the waiter had turned his back. “You don’t know what I’ve ordered.”
“I like surprises,” she smiled. “Sometimes.”
Marcus rested his eyes on her. The room was dimly lit with just a few wall sconces, some artfully positioned candles and the glow from the fire. Lottie could feel the warmth of desire rising within her, but she was utterly torn. On the one hand she felt like the most special girl in the world, sitting here alone with this beautiful man, with his undivided attention and those entrancing eyes drinking her in. On the other it was torture. This had to come to an end, and soon. Then she’d never see Marcus again; this night would become a distant memory. She’d be starting over again but with a gaping hole where her insatiable passion for Marcus once was.
“What are you waiting for?” She asked, pointedly. “I know you’re going to fire me. Why haven’t you?”
Marcus stared at her, disarmed. He hadn’t expected her to get straight to this point so soon.
“Well?” She pressed. Relief flashed briefly across Marcus’s face as the waiter returned and placed two large whiskies on the table in front of them. Marcus raised his, briefly cocking it towards Lottie before bringing it to his lips and taking a large sip. He closed his eyes feeling the burn as it ran down his throat. It gave him the courage he needed.
“Because…” He began, swirling the ice cube around his glass and watching the ripples as they danced in the fire light. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you yet.” Lottie dared not breathe. Marcus raised his eyes to her finally, surveying her reaction.
“But you have to at some point,” she said, softly. “You know I can’t stay after what I’ve done.” Marcus closed his eyes as though trying not to hear her. “I already know this is how it ends,” she continued. “So, you don’t even need to say anything. It’s done.”
Marcus opened his eyes, his lashes casting long shadows across his cheeks. A pang of pain seared through Lottie. She’d never see him like this again. After this evening she’d be relegated to the ranks of normal people who only ever caught sight of him in the business pages or the occasional Tatler feature. He looked so much better in the flesh, she thought, trying to imprint every inch of his face on her memory.
“Then I’d like to make a toast,” he said, finally, raising his glass again. “To you, Charlotte.” Lottie raised her glass, her eyes never leaving his. “If it wasn’t for you, Lure would have gone under months ago and lost me my entire investment. I’d have looked a fool.” Lottie shook her head, but Marcus continued, ignoring her. “You’ve landed me our most exciting investment and launched it with the biggest splash this industry has seen in a long time. And you’ve done all this in just a few months. You’re impressive, Charlotte. You’ve got a very bright future ahead.”
Lottie could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. This was it. She tried to think of something, anything, that would tinge this immaculate picture he was painting. Anything to make her feel better; anything to stop the tears coming.
“But I dined out with a client,” she said. “I’m not perfect.”
Marcus sighed. “You did nothing wrong. I just didn’t like it.” Lottie held her hands together beneath the table. He was saying all the right things, but she couldn’t allow herself to hear them. Nothing could ever come of this; it was agonising.
“You told me it wasn’t allowed.” She countered.
“You know why I said that,” he snapped. “Don’t act dumb.”
“Don’t speak to me like that,” she replied.
“Then stop acting like you don’t know what’s going on here.”
“I don’t, Marcus.” She hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “One minute I can’t seem to please you, the next you’re telling me I have a bright future. One minute you’re telling me nothing can ever happen, the next you’re …” Her sudden, deep blush finished the sentence off for her. Pull yourself together, she thought. “It’s like being in a boxing ring. I don’t know where I stand with you, ever.” She sighed heavily. “Maybe this … you discovering the truth about what’s been going on … isn’t such a bad thing. It’s not healthy for me to be around you anymore.”
Sadness crept across Marcus’s brow. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do. I can’t carry on like this. It’s not normal to crave someone’s approval so much. Sometimes I feel like I can’t live without it.”
“And can you?”
Lottie smiled, sadly. “Well, it’s not like I have a choice. I have to, don’t I?” She took a large sip of the whiskey. The fuzziness it induced helped soften the long, slow blow she was feeling.
Marcus watched her carefully, trying not to betray the feeling he was no longer in control. He was about to lose this girl, this talent, from his business and from his life. He’d kept her as far from him as he could reasonably handle, but he’d watched every move she’d made. He’d grown comfortable with the power he had over her and hadn’t expected it to be whipped from under him like this. Now what lay ahead? Unfinished business, he thought. It felt so incomplete; there was no closure. She was just going to walk out of this club and never turn back. And Marcus wasn’t ready for that. Nothing ended unless it was on his terms.
This has to be like ripping off a plaster, Lottie thought. The more this evening is dragged out, the harder it’s going to be. Now; it has to be now. She took a long swig of the whiskey and savoured the delicious, malty peat, then stood up to leave.
“Thank you for the opportunity Marcus,” she said. “I’m sorry for everything that’s happened.” Marcus looked back at her, surprised at the depth of his despair.
“I wish you all the best, I really do.” She hovered for a second, hoping something would change in that minute, turn back the clock. She swayed slightly, the whiskey swirling in her blood stream. Tears cast a silvery veil over her eyes and suddenly the room became liquid. She almost didn’t feel Marcus taking her hand and rising to his feet, leading her back through the corridors. She blinked, releasing a single stream of tears down her cheek which she quickly wiped away. She felt helpless, only aware of Marcus in front of her, leading her. She heard him talk to the doorman but was too overcome with grief for the life she was saying goodbye to, to make any sense of it. Instead she allowed herself to be led again, through more doors, up three flights of creaky, wooden stairs, along more corridors, each one bleeding into the next. Somewhere along the way they stopped, and Marcus took a key to a door and unlocked it, leading Lottie inside.
Before she could fully take in the grand four poster bed, the plump sofa and armchairs, the antique writing desk, the giant widescreen TV, Marcus dimmed the lights and led her across to the bed. Lottie’s heart pounded in her ears. Marcus turned her to face him, his jaw and the contours of his chest beneath his expensive t-shirt lit by the street lamps outside. Suddenly she took hold of herself. They were alone, in one of the guest rooms. She figured she was no longer an employee and there was no-one around who could stop them from taking this any further. She thought back to his warning in the lift.
“You said you didn’t want this,” she whispered, feeling her stomach melting in on itself.
“I lied,” he replied, simply.
“What about … Annabel?” She said, before he pressed a finger to her lips.
“Not now,” he said quietly. “Right now, it’s just you and me. Do you understand?”
Lottie nodded. Marcus took her face into his hands and lowered his lips to hers. He held them there for a second, allowing the sensation of being close to her fill him up completely.
Lottie reached up to pull his lips deeper on to hers; the suspense was agonising. But Marcus pulled back. They stared at each other, desperately, then Marcus pulled her back towards him and kissed her passionately, his tongue exploring her mouth ravenously, her hands clutching at his hair, his neck, his face. Lottie felt insane with lust. His lips were softer and hungrier for hers than she could ever have imagined. She could tell without doubt that Marcus wanted this as much as she did, despite his protests. He stopped suddenly and took a step back, appraising her.
“Get undressed,” he ordered, his voice cracking with lust. Shocked and aroused, Lottie fumbled with her t-shirt, tugging it over her head and watching as Marcus took in the sight of her breasts, covered in the cream lace bra. She kicked off her trainers then slowly, shakily, unzipped her jeans and peeled them down her legs one at a time until they lay in a crumpled pile on the softly carpeted floor.
Marcus swallowed back his arousal. Her creamy skin glowed with longing as he nodded to her to continue. She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra letting it fall to floor like a feather. Watching Marcus closely, she then pushed her pants, slowly, over her hips until they too dropped to the floor. Her confidence returned as she could see exactly the effect she was having on Marcus. This man, who’d found her so impossible to work with, who’d appeared to admire and despise her in equal measure, who’d barely been able to bring himself into contact with her, was speechless. And hard. She’d known there was something indescribable between them – the night of the launch had confirmed as much. And now here he was, unable to let her go.
“Undress me,” he managed, in a voice barely audible over his arousal. Enjoying the effect she was having on him, Lottie stepped forward and pulled Marcus’s t-shirt over his head, allowing her nipples to brush against his chest. She hesitated long enough to hear his breath catch in his throat. She hooked her eyes on him and devoured his gaze as she ran her hands down the side of his torso to the top of his jeans. She unbuckled the soft leather belt, noticing the Berluti logo reflected in the light from the giant antique bedside lamp, and unbuttoned his fly, one by one. She glanced down at his boxers, they were tight, black, Christian Dior. Tucking her fingers delicately over the waistband, she looked up at Marcus, her tongue running over her top lip, and tugged them gently over his hips, feeling the force of him leap out at her. He gasped hungrily, the strain on his patience emblazoned across his face. Suddenly, and without instruction, Lottie dropped to her knees.
“What …” Marcus began and then realised what she was doing, with a surge of lust. She took him in her mouth, gently at first, then deeper. Marcus reached out and grabbed one of the four mahogany bed posts. The sensation was too much but he couldn’t stop her. The feeling of her mouth closed tight around him, sucking faster and faster, harder and harder made him weak and unable to move. Finally, he pulled away, forcing his orgasm to retreat. Lottie looked up at him with a mixed expression of surprise and amusement.
“Get on the bed,” he choked. She obeyed and pushed herself back towards the pillows. Marcus reached down and pulled his belt through the loops of his jeans. Crawling on top of her he took hold of both her wrists and bound them to the wooden head board. She wriggled in protest.
“Please,” she begged. “I want to touch you.”
“You’ve had your way already,” he growled. “Now it’s my turn.” She writhed beneath him, willing him to take her. She’d dreamed about this ever since she’d first laid eyes on him, but never in a million years had she imagined it would feel this good. He edged down the bed dragging his lips over her collar bone, her breasts, taking her nipples into his mouth one at a time and sucking them until she moaned uncontrollably.
“Please Marcus …” she begged. He ignored her and moved down, slowly, his tongue tracing the contours of her hips, her stomach, her thighs. Lottie cried out, struggling to hold herself together. Marcus raised his eyes to look at her, enjoying the pure control he had over her now. She was desperate for him. It was entrancing, to see this woman who was normally so controlled, so pristinely in command of herself, falling apart in front of his eyes. He lowered his tongue to her, slowly.
“Oh God,” she whimpered. “Marcus. Oh God …” He pressed down, enjoying her responsiveness to the slightest touch and felt her spasm. He withdrew and watched as she shuddered uncontrollably, an orgasm, even when he was longer touching her. Marcus watched as her stomach convulsed, her eyes closed tightly in sheer ecstasy.
“Oh God,” she moaned, embarrassed, as her climax subsided. Marcus ignored her and pushed himself inside. Immediately he felt her climax return and he was closer than he thought; he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He pushed himself to the edge feeling her clamp around him until he was aware of nothing but his orgasm, bursting out of him. Lottie felt the force of it and came again, fresh spasms pulling him deeper and deeper until they both collapsed, exhausted.