Page 29 of Under Your Scars

“I’m sure we can get creative,” he laughs, flashing his perfect smile at me. “Do I make you nervous?” I nod. “Because I’m the CEO?” I nod again. I feel his fingers untuck my shirt from my pants and he lifts it over my head, tossing it into the passenger seat. He pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth when he spies my lacy shelf bra I had hiding under my top, and my core turns molten and achy with desire. “This is very inappropriate for the workplace, Elena. What am I going to do with you?”

I gulp. “It’s easier to change at the club when—”

He presses his finger to my lips and shushes me before kissing me softly, letting his hands trace up my back, unhooking the lingerie top. He takes his lips off mine to watch my chest fall free. “I hate knowing other men get to see you like this every night,” he growls, kissing my chest. “You were supposed to quit.”

“I know,” I whine, with an apology on the tip of my tongue. “I will. I promise I’ve tried. It’s not as simple as handing in a two-week notice.”

His mouth goes back to my chest, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. I can’t help it; I grind on his lap. He groans against my chest, his fingers digging into my waist. He drags his teeth lightly across the perky rosebud he’s holding hostage in his mouth.

Fear, insecurity, and common sense all surge back into me and I reel back from him, gripping my bra close to my chest to cover myself. Without letting him protest, I clip it in the back and then pull my shirt on.

“Please take me home.”

His face falls, but he doesn’t push me to go any further. He cups my cheeks, places a featherlight kiss to the tip of my nose, and then he helps me climb into the passenger seat.

I glance at the clock.

It’s nine on the dot.

I don’t know where Christian and I stand after our ‘not-a-date’ in his office followed by our ‘six minutes in heaven’ in the parking garage yesterday. The only way I can describe how I feel is confused. I’ve caught the attention of the most eligible bachelor in the world, and I can’t figure out why.

I will never belong in his world. That’s a fact. His life is all champagne and diamonds and unprecedented wealth. Parties and high-profile dinners. Interviews and business trips all over the world.

My life is so utterly normal in comparison that it’s almost laughable.

Regardless of whatever is going on between us, I’m excited for our planned visit to the orphanage.

Christian had to add us to an approved list of visitors to even get through the gates. I had to gather everyone’s driver’s license numbers and their full names, and they had to run a criminal background check on all of us before we were allowed to even be considered as an approved visitor.

The only person that came back with a criminal record is Christian himself, but when have the rules ever applied to him?

He has fifteen separate instances of assault in the past decade. In interviews, Christian is open about being suspended from school on multiple occasions for fighting, and even recreational drug use when he was a minor. Once he became an adult, he gave up marijuana in favor of cigarettes.

His most recent arrest is from the day I met him, when he assaulted Neil Hayden. I went through the public jail records and found out that Christian spent a total of two hours in a holding cell before getting bailed out, and the charges were dropped the next day.

It didn’t even make news because everyone was still focused on the Silencer killing those three men from the alley.

Yeah, those men that he killed forme.

God, I must have hit my head that night I met the Silencer, and I just can’t remember, because I can’t imagine there’s any other plausible excuse for why I haven’t reported that I’m being stalked by a serial killer. I make a promise to myself that the next time I see him, I’m giving him an ultimatum to stay away from me.

Shaking my head, I try to forget about him for the day, attempting to stay focused on the opportunity of a lifetime—getting to visit the Thomas and Elizabeth Reeves Memorial Orphanage with the man that willed it into reality.

I’ve fleshed out the itinerary for our trip today, down to every last minute. It wasn’t easy coordinating Christian’s schedule with seven attorneys, but I managed to make it work.

We’re going to tour the entire campus, and then our first activity will be at the academy where we’ll shadow a preschool class. Then we’ll have a meeting with the Board of Directors, and then I arranged a bowling tournament for the high schoolers, where the winner will get a letter of recommendation from Christian himself for their college applications. With the weight the Reeves name carries, that’s nothing less than a guaranteed acceptance to any college of their choosing.

Christian finds me lingering in the lobby waiting for all the attorneys to arrive, and insists I ride with him to the orphanage. When I agreed, I thought he meant that he just wanted to be in whatever SUV I chose. Instead, what heactuallymeant was he wanted me all to himself, because while the other attorneys load in to two vehicles, Christian takes my arm and leads me to a third, blacked-out Escalade.

I’m wearing a knee-length pastel purple dress, my favorite nude heels, and a camel-colored peacoat. My hair is up in a French twist with loose strands framing my face, my makeup light and fresh.

This orphanage is Christian Reeves’ legacy, and I want to make sure I represent him well. The usual business attire I wear to the office won’t do.

Oddly enough, Christian is wearing a purple tie that matches the color of my dress almost exactly. It’s quite a jarring contrast to his black suit, but he couldn’t have known what I chose to pull out of my closet today, so I convince myself that it’s simply serendipity.

“You look lovely, Elena.” He helps me into the passenger seat, his warm hand lightly holding me steady by my waist. “Sophisticated and beautiful.”

“Are you trying to say I don’t always look sophisticated?”