The steamy finale to the Sin City Brotherhood series finds powerful Alana Carter battling to show her sexy new employee who’s in charge—but he soon commands all of her attention between the sheets!

Alana Carter manages the hottest sex club in Vegas, and she relishes the power of being the boss. So when her partners hire British consultant Michael Paul to help her out over the holidays, she’s furious. She immediately clashes with her new employee, but the fiery chemistry between them is undeniable. Soon Alana has gone from wrestling for control in the boardroom to letting Michael dominate in the bedroom.

Michael needs a fresh start after his ex-wife’s betrayal, so his red-hot attraction to his new boss is a welcome distraction—especially when it results in racy after-hours encounters in the office. The pair give in to their illicit desires and spend a sexy Christmas break in Mexico, where Michael discovers a deeper connection with Alana: he wants more than a lust-fueled affair behind closed doors.

Alana doesn’t want to relinquish control of her life to any man, let alone one who works for her, but their festive fling has left her aching with desire. Her body and mind want different things—the question is: Which one will come out on top?

Harlequin DARE publishes sexy romances featuring powerful alpha heroes and bold, fearless heroines exploring their deepest fantasies.

Four new Harlequin DARE titles are available each month, wherever ebooks are sold!

J. MARGOT CRITCH currently lives in St John’s, Newfoundland, with her husband, Brian, and their two little buddies, Simon and Chibs. She spends equal amounts of time writing, listening to Jimmy Buffett’s music and looking out at the ocean—all the while trying to decide if she wants coffee or a margarita.

Also from J. Margot Critch

Sin City Brotherhood

Boardroom Sins

Sins of the Flesh

Sweet as Sin

Forbidden Sins

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

A Sinful Little Christmas

J. Margot Critch

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08724-7

A SINFUL LITTLE CHRISTMAS

© 2019 Juanita Margot Critch

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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To Catherine.

You are strength personified, an amazing friend, and

compassionate, loyal, fierce, unwavering. Thank you

for being you, for being my friend, for lunches on

George Street and for being one-third of the

Vegas Besties. Swim hard, strong shark.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

A WHITE-HOT RAGE filled Alana Carter, and with fire in her eyes, she looked over at her friends who’d assembled in the conference room. She should have known those motherfuckers-she-loved-like-brothers were up to something when they’d ambushed her in her office. “You did what?” she asked, forcing the words through her clenched teeth.

“Lana,” Gabe started in a careful—almost gentle—way that made her want to reach across the table and smack him. “We all agree that you’ve been doing a great job running all of the properties.”

“I know I have. Keep going,” she told him, seeing through his attempt to placate or pacify her.

Rafael cleared his throat. She turned her stare on him. “We’ve noticed that you’ve been working really hard lately. We can tell you aren’t feeling well. You shouldn’t have to take it all on yourself. You need help. And you won’t let us.”

“I’m feeling fine,” she insisted, without using any of the outrage or emotion she wanted to put behind the words. Lest they accuse her of being hysterical. Her heart pounded in her ears, and Alana tried her best to remain as outwardly cool as possible. In her career she’d crafted a poker face that could fool the most seasoned player. “I won’t let you?” she asked, a steeliness in her voice. “When would any of you have the time to do any of the things I do, or work the hours I keep? Between your own jobs, there are weddings to plan, social lives, family time…” She trailed off. She shook her head. “That doesn’t give you the right to hire some guy I don’t even know to replace me.”

Brett was next to jump in. “Michael’s not replacing you,” he clarified. “We all agreed that bringing in another pair of hands would be a good idea. Especially since Scott left, since we’ve all been so busy with our personal lives.”

Her head throbbed and she felt a pounding from her chest to her ears. Cursing Scott, former manager of Di Terrestres, who’d quit several months ago, she turned mad again. “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a fucking child. It’s not my problem you have all stepped back from the business to focus on your personal lives, and relationships.” She spit out the last word as if it was poison on her tongue. She could hear the four distinct sighs of the men sitting around her, and one side of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied half smile, that she’d successfully annoyed them.

“Alana,” Gabe started again. “Michael and I went to school together in London. He started and ran one of the hottest erotic clubs in London for several years. He’s an asset to us. He can really help us out over here. Especially with all the time you’ve been putting in at the hotel, the restaurants, and everything else you do. He could run Di Terrestres, take it off your plate with no problem at all. He knows what he’s doing.”

Alana forced her gaze away from the Brotherhood, her friends and business partners, closing her eyes against the sunlight pouring in from the large panoramic windows. She remembered the bottle of medication in her desk drawer, and how she could use a pill now. Ever since she’d been prescribed them, she had a hard time remembering to take them. “How long have you guys been planning this?”

“We met up with him in Dublin for my bachelor party,” Alex explained. “He was looking for a change, and we all thought he would be a good fit here. And you don’t have to worry about anything. We took care of all of the human resources and visa paperwork.”

“How considerate of you.” Alana’s laugh had no humor. “Funny, we used to make all the decisions together. What happened to that?” None of her friends looked at her, nor did they budge. She was furious. But her head pounded and she was tired, and felt too poorly to fight with them. “Fine,” she relented. “I’ll talk to the guy. But that doesn’t mean anything. I’ll try to find something for him to do here.”

She put her palms on the table and pushed herself up. On wobbly legs, Alana reached for her bag, and the room tilted a little on its axis. She steadied herself, hoping her friends didn’t notice, and without another word, she walked out the door. “Assholes,” she muttered to herself as she made her way to her office. How dare they bring in another man to work for them? They’d gone over her head and made a major business decision without her. Of everything she did for the Brotherhood and their businesses, running Di Terrestres was her favorite. The erotic club they’d opened was the most profitable of all of their ventures. The club was her baby, she’d come up with the idea and the concept, and she absolutely did not want to hand over control to some stranger.

She walked into her office, and in the reception area she smiled at her assistant, Cameron. “Any messages?”

Cameron handed her a small stack. “Just a few.” Alana flipped through them. Contractor, inspector, payroll administrator, city officials…the usual suspects. “Thanks.”

After grabbing a Sanpellegrino from the bar fridge, she made it to her desk. She pulled out the bottle of pills, shook one into her hand and swallowed it with a mouthful of water. Alana was new to taking the medication. But her doctor had insisted on it when she couldn’t seem to lower her blood pressure or reduce her anxiety or panic attacks through the usual methods. The medication wasn’t at all necessary, and she knew it. It was only a precaution, really, and her doctor was overreacting. Neither her anxiety, nor her blood pressure, was the issue. Alana ate well and exercised regularly. It was just stress from work. That was all, she told herself.

Alana spun around in her chair and closed her eyes against the light coming from the large window, willing her heart rate to slow and her breathing to relax, meditating, as she waited for the room to stop spinning. Cameron buzzed in, interrupting her relaxation, and she sighed, not in the mood to see or talk to anyone. At least until the episode was over.

“Yes?” she asked, trying to remove all traces of fatigue from her voice.

“Alana, there’s a Michael Paul here to see you. He says he’s here to discuss his new position.”

He’s here? She didn’t want to deal with him today; she’d assumed that it would at least be next week before she had to talk to him. She put the pill bottle she was still holding into the drawer and slammed it shut. In a quick attempt to compose herself, she gulped back the rest of the water and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders. “Send him in,” she told her assistant.

A few seconds later the door opened, and Alana prepared her best thousand-yard stare. The one that shriveled the balls of many a man who dared cross her—in the boardroom, the bedroom, on the street and anywhere else. But her eyes widened when she cast them on the man who walked in the door.

Well, hello.

Alana wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but the man who entered her office certainly wasn’t it. He was tall, dark, sinfully sexy—exactly how she liked them. Black hair, closely shaved to his head, and a beard framed his strong jaw and the fullest, softest-looking male lips she’d ever seen. In a royal blue suit and a white shirt, open at the collar, which contrasted nicely against his dark skin, he was quite the picture. In response to his physical appearance, she flicked an eyebrow upward with interest, before she could remind herself that she was at work and that Michael Paul was her newest employee—whether she liked it or not.

“Ms. Carter?” he asked, approaching her desk. His British accent got her attention as he towered over her.

“Yes, that’s me.”

Still standing, he extended his hand to her. “I’m Michael Paul.”

She blinked, but quickly recovered to cover her physical attraction to him. She had discovered only a few minutes ago that the man even existed, and now he was standing in front of her, introducing himself. “Yes, I’ve been expecting you,” she lied, not willing to let him know that her partners had just ambushed her with the news of his hiring, and that he’d caught her off guard, at a weak moment.

Remaining sitting, so he was forced to lean over her desk, she put her hand in his, and the size of it completely dwarfed hers. His were strong hands, capable. Lightly calloused, not at all as smooth as she would have expected. Working man’s unmanicured hands. Their eyes connected, and a spark snapped between them as their palms flattened together.

Hands had always been a turn-on of hers, and she could tell a lot about a man by his hands, by how he used them, moved them, and by how he shook hands. His confidence and strength. What kind of work he did, how he held himself. And Michael’s handshake told her quite a bit. For a second time in just a few minutes, she about lost her breath and her equilibrium, and such an immediate reaction to a man shocked her. Alana was normally in complete control over her emotions, and to have that control slip, well, that sort of thing didn’t happen to her.

When Michael released her from his grasp, Alana was grateful that she was able to mentally compose herself. “Please, sit down,” she told him, waving at the sleek couch on the other side of her desk. But when he stepped back, he removed his jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch, and she almost sighed at his form. Michael’s shoulders were broad, and his arms, back and chest were strong, as evidenced by the bulges of muscle that showed through the fine material of his white shirt. Alana was barely hanging on, and when he unbuttoned his shirt at the cuffs, she almost fell out of her chair.

Attempting to seem oblivious, she watched with keen interest as he rolled the cuffs of his shirt up, exposing corded forearms, more dark skin, soft hair on his wrist, the expensive gold watch. At least Michael was getting comfortable, because all Alana could do was squirm in her chair to alleviate the pressure growing between her thighs.

He smiled, showing a row of brilliantly white teeth behind those full lips. “I was hoping that we could talk about my new job a bit before I get down to work,” he said, settling back onto the low, plush couch. It was a feature she’d thought of when she designed her office, after one too many meetings with men who looked down at her. Her desk sat above the couch, placing her slightly above anyone sitting opposite her. But Michael’s height, which she’d pegged at around six foot five, put him more or less at eye level with her.

She straightened, telling herself that she couldn’t lust over the new guy. No matter how fucking sexy he was. He was her employee, whether she wanted him here or not. “It’s not your job yet,” she told him.

“Right, then,” he said carefully as he leaned back. His long legs crossed in front of him, his right ankle over his left knee, and his arms stretched casually along the back of the couch—as if he owned the place. “That wasn’t how I understood my meeting with your partners, though. Especially since I was able to procure a work visa…for my job here.” He paused and then grinned. “But sure,” he said. “Let’s talk. Because now that I’m here, and have the job, I’m not going anywhere. The sooner we can get on the same page, the better.”

Alana watched him for a moment. She might be attracted to him, and she certainly appreciated confident men, but he was cocky in a way that she wasn’t sure she liked. Unlike most people who sat across from her desk, he didn’t seem at all intimidated by her. In an attempt to gain control of the meeting, she cooled, and tried her best to seem unaffected by him. Hopefully, she was successful, but his smirk told her that he saw right through her. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Paul. I’m not certain we can find the same page. I’d settle for us at least being in the same book.”

Michael narrowed his eyes at the woman sitting in front of him. Gabe and his mates had told him about Alana—warned him about her, was more like it—but he hadn’t properly prepared himself to meet her in person. Sure, she was beautiful, but that wasn’t all. Already he could tell she was strong, tough, smart, a formidable woman. And for some reason, she didn’t seem pleased to see him in her office. That was a surprise. The fellows had enthusiastically welcomed him aboard, and he had no idea why he met resistance now. “What would you like to know?” he asked.

“This is far different than any situation I’ve found myself in, and even though my partners brought you here, I have no idea who you are. As far as I’m concerned, it’s still a job interview. So, start by telling me about yourself.” Bristling at her command, his entire body tensed. He was accustomed to being the one in control, and she’d put him in a subservient position. He didn’t like it, but knowing he needed to impress her, he tamped his annoyance down and looked at her from where he sat. His height may have put him almost at her level, but whether it was the low couch or the high position of her chair, she and her desk still seemed to tower over him. Total power move on her part, and he had to admire the design. Neat trick. He pegged her as a woman who liked to be in control. But he also liked control, and he wouldn’t give it up that easily.

She threw her long blond hair over her shoulder, and barely looked at him. He clenched his fist, imagining himself pushing his fingers through it, pulling a little. He saw her eyes dip to look at his hands.

His new boss was sexy. And his immediate reaction to her surprised him, especially when he should have been focused on making a positive first impression. While Michael had thought it was a done deal, it seemed that Alana Carter was the gatekeeper of his sorely needed second chance. Sure, her male partners had given him a great job and a new opportunity, but now he knew he wouldn’t get far if he couldn’t get by her.

He hadn’t packed up what was left of his life just days before Christmas to move to a new country to mess it all up on day one. He had to be on his best behavior, because screwing up his new life before it started wasn’t an option, no matter how beautiful the woman was, or how badly he wanted her to give him a personal tour of her erotic club in the bottom floor of the building, and then maybe he’d show her a thing or two himself.

Alana watched him expectantly, and Michael realized that she was waiting for a response. Right, the interview. He cleared his throat. “Well, up until very recently, I lived in London, where I opened and ran Swings Playground. We made five million pounds in profit in our first year, and then each year since, we’ve doubled the previous year’s earnings.”

She nodded with approval, and Michael felt his confidence bolster. “Very impressive. I know Swings,” she said. “I’ve visited a couple of times while in London.”

“Oh really?” he asked, his interest piqued, and he was curious where her tastes lay.

“Yeah, a couple of years ago. I was in London for a conference.”

“And how was your visit?”

“Quite fun. It’s a nice, comfortable place you’ve built.”

“Thank you,” he said, a bitter taste in his mouth, thinking about the place he’d created but then been ousted from. “I look forward to finally seeing Di Terrestres as well,” he told her, hoping to take the focus off himself and put it on her own club. “Once our interview is over, that is.”

“I’ll get someone to show you around later, if we need to. But back to you. Swings is successful, and well-known in the international community. I’m curious, though. Why exactly did you leave?”

Michael paused. He didn’t know how to form the words, having never said them out loud to anyone before. He had deeply buried the pain and humiliation of the betrayal. But in the moments when he let himself feel, it still stung him. He hadn’t hoped to get into it during his first meeting with the woman he’d be working with. So, he went with a fair response of “It was time for my partners and me to part ways.”

He caught the flicker of a question that showed in her eyes, her bullshit detector, no doubt, pinging at his nonresponse.

“Why the vague answer?” she asked, leaning back in her chair. She crossed her arms, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her more-than-ample breasts pushed upward. His eyes drifted to the line of her cleavage that disappeared beneath the low neckline of her dress. “Unless you’re too busy looking at my breasts to provide an actual one.”

Caught. “Sorry.” He wasn’t at all sorry. “There’s not much else to say about my split from my partners.”

“I think there is.”

“It’s nothing that will affect my ability to work here,” he assured her.

But she wouldn’t let it go. “Legal trouble?” she asked, with her eyes narrowed and the tilt of her head showing off a length of smooth skin on her neck. All those sensitive nerve endings. He wondered if she would moan or squeal if he grazed it with his lips.

“More like personal.” Michael’s voice was gruff, barely recognizable to him. It wasn’t anger that had transformed it—as was what happened when he normally spoke of the infidelity he’d suffered at the hands of those closest to him—but lust. It had been a while since he’d had such a reaction to a woman, no matter the attitude she threw his way. Maybe that was part of her appeal, he mused. She didn’t just fall at his feet and want to give him anything he desired. Her resistance to him was new, and the fact that he would have to work hard to impress her—well, he liked that. He could appreciate hard work. It just made the rewards sweeter.

Alana raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

He knew he would have to further elaborate, or she wouldn’t let it go. He averted his eyes, checking out her office—it was sleek in design, modern, but comfortable—and he blew out a heavy breath. “Okay, fine. My wife—” he caught her quick, surprised blink “—my very soon to be ex-wife,” he clarified. “We owned the club with a friend of ours. The marriage ended, the friendship ended, and so did the partnership.” Michael figured giving the short-and-not-so-sweet version of what went down would be the easiest option.

“I know there’s something you’re leaving out there,” she pointed out. Michael said nothing, offering her nothing more about his personal life. “Why did you want to come here?”

“I’m at a crossroads in my life. Gabe reached out to me, and I met him in Dublin.” Michael noticed her head tilt and her lips purse, then added, “I figured it was a good time for something new, a change of scenery, and I figure there’s no different scenery than Las Vegas. I’ve heard great things about Di Terrestres. You’re known internationally within the scene. I’m not sure if you know this, but I’ve known Gabe since university. He’s told me all about you.” He flicked his eyes over her. But Gabe hadn’t told him everything about her—he’d left out that Alana Carter was possibly the sexiest woman Michael had ever seen. Smoking hot, hard as steel and capable of making him want to do so many things to her, with her, have her do to him. But he stuck with “Gabe has had good things to say about you and the way you do business.” Knowing she wouldn’t make it easy for him, he kept going, hoping flattery and sex appeal would help melt her icy exterior. “I’m excited to get to work, to see what I can do for you,” he finished with an innuendo-laced, closed-lip grin. Just bring the conversation to sex, and away from his personal life. That was where his comforts lay.

The way Alana raised her eyebrows, but then quickly lowered them, let Michael know that he’d had the intended effect. He saw the way she looked at him, and it was obvious that the attraction between them flowed both ways. She cleared her throat and leaned her elbows on her desk, zeroing in on him with those light gray eyes, while his eyes dipped again to her chest and the view he’d been presented with. “And what do you think you can do for me?” she asked, her voice husky.

He, too, leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I can relieve some of the stress and the pressure you must be under. Being a powerful woman in a man’s world can’t be easy. I’m here to do the heavy lifting at Di Terrestres and lighten your load, no matter what it might be.”

Alana stood behind her desk, forcing him to look up at her. He was a tall man, and had never had a woman stand over him. “I think I know how you can relieve some of the stress, and make my day a little easier…” He watched with interest as she drew her fingertips over the top of her desk. Every movement she made was crafted to have an effect on him. He could tell she knew how to use her body, her mind, every part of her, to seduce to get what she wanted.

And Michael was almost embarrassed by how well it worked on him.

He stood as well. He could already feel all of his blood rushing to his dick. “Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”

“Well, first,” she said, her voice sultry, as she reached back and opened her desk drawer, took a step around the front of the desk to stand in front of him and handed over a stack of paper tickets. He inhaled deeply and found her perfume. Citrus with a floral hint, alluding to a more playful side? He wondered. Her scent was captivating, intoxicating, but no more so than the way she pursed her lips, one side tilted upward, and she dipped her chin to what she’d placed in his hand, urging him to look.

He looked in his hand and saw what she’d given him, and he laughed without humor.

“You can pick up my dry cleaning,” she told him, her voice still a sultry whisper. “The address is on the back.”

Her dry cleaning? “You can’t be serious.”

All hint of seduction was now missing from her voice and posture. “Mr. Paul, you’ll discover that I’m rarely anything but serious.”

He shook his head, and glared down at her. “Do you know what you’re paying me? I didn’t come all the way here from London to run your errands.”

“You’ll do exactly what I tell you to do,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I don’t care what I’m paying you, just make sure you prove you’re worth it.”

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 when he saw the defiant set of her jaw, he knew it wasn’t a fight that he was going to win that day. He snatched up the tags in his fist. “Fine. Anything else?”

“No. See Cameron outside, he’ll call you a car.”

“I have a car.” Michael glared, and turned on his heel. Walking out, he looked over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow,” he promised. It would be a new day to do battle with the woman in front of him. Even though she had the power to destroy him—so help him, God—he was looking forward to it. He’d never been a masochist, but when it came to Alana, he was certain that she could convince him. If he didn’t lower her resistance first, that is.

“Tomorrow. Bright and early,” she told him, an all-too-sweet smile adorning her cynical lips.

Michael vowed to revisit the conversation. Another time. Right now, he had some dry cleaning to pick up for the boss lady. If she thought she’d won the battle, however, she was sorely mistaken. He left her office, slamming the door behind him.

Alana may have won that round. But the war wasn’t over.

Alana stared at the closed door for a while before she was able to breathe again. And when she did, the air escaped her lungs in a quick rush. “Oh, fuck me,” she said aloud to her empty office. The words shot out, unabated, as they’d been on the tip of her tongue, and were the same words she’d almost found herself saying to Michael Paul, her newest employee. The man was arrogant, imposing, annoying, condescending, thought he could take her down, and he’d even had the nerve to try to manipulate her with sex. But what surprised Alana the most was that she also found him to be completely irresistible.

The heat returned to her cheeks, and it had nothing to do with her supposed medical issue, but with a pure, carnal desire for a man she knew could make her life extremely difficult. Save his cocky attitude—which was due for a serious adjustment—Michael would have been just her type. And when he’d grilled her on her sex life, which was completely inappropriate in a workplace setting, he’d absolutely nailed her, and what she liked.

Control. Power. They were the things that she carried with her throughout her life, and not solely in the bedroom. Alana held on to her business with a tight grip, and she wasn’t quite prepared to pass it over to some man she didn’t even know. Who thought he could stroll in and turn her life completely upside down.

But God. Just his presence had had an effect on her. Clenching her thighs together to alleviate the pressure that had built there, she took deep breaths until she was able to think about anything but him again. What had happened to her? One moment, she was sitting behind her desk, ready to send Michael Paul packing back to London. The next, the tall, dark Adonis had made her melt into a puddle on her chair.

Inhaling, she could still smell him—his spicy cologne, his essence. Even though he’d gone, he was still in her office. Like he’d invaded the place, and refused to leave. She had to find a way to get him out of her building, and the hell away from her, before she found herself underneath him.

CHAPTER TWO

ALANA RUBBED HER temples and rolled her neck. Another tension headache had taken up residence in the back of her brain, neck and shoulders. Her head pounded and she closed her eyes, trying to make the pain dissipate. She’d taken her pill—as prescribed—and a couple over-the-counter painkillers, but no amount of medication would make her feel better. When she felt like this, when the stress and tightness wouldn’t let up, she knew there was only one way to relax—sex.

It had been a day. Not only had her best friends gone over her head and, without her knowing, brought in a guy to manage her club, but Alana blew out a breath as she admitted she was wildly attracted to the arrogant, gorgeous man they’d hired. Feeling the temperature in the room rise, she pulled back her hair into a loose bun. She was due for a little fun—it had been so long since she’d had any. Heading down to Di Terrestres would be a good cap to a crappy day. She called downstairs to the suite host, Andre.

“Hi, Andre, is my room ready?”

Over the phone, she heard his fingers tap on his tablet. “Yes, ma’am, it’s been a while since you’ve used it.”

“Don’t remind me,” she told him. “I’ll be down shortly.”

“See you soon.”

Alana disconnected the call and quickly texted Eric, an acquaintance of hers who was always ready to hook up. Not many men were okay with lying down and letting a woman take control, but he never seemed to mind.

Finished working for the day, Alana cleared away her desk, and shut her laptop. She stood and picked up her purse, glancing at her phone to see that Eric had responded to her message almost immediately and told her he was on his way. Perfect.

Alana made her way downstairs. Sure, Eric was a good-looking guy, and always showed her a fun time, but as she used the private elevator from her top-floor office down to Di Terrestres, she couldn’t stop herself from wishing that it was Michael Paul meeting her in her suite. But that was a thought she couldn’t afford to entertain. She’d stared him down, had won the first confrontation, but she knew it wasn’t over. He didn’t even flinch when she gave him her best Head Bitch in Charge stare, and threatened to put his balls in her purse. That showed he was tenacious, sure. But there was no way she was handing over the reins to Di Terrestres—her baby—to just any random guy her idiot friends brought in, no matter how qualified. She pictured the shock on his face when she handed over her dry cleaning stubs, and chuckled as she remembered his outrage at being treated like an errand boy.

She bypassed the crowd of regulars on the main floor of the club, not even looking up to the Brotherhood’s usual table to see if they were up there, because she didn’t care. She made her way to the suites and smiled at Andre, who stood at the host table at the bottom of the staircase.

“Eric is on his way, Ms. Carter. You can head on up,” he said, presenting her with the electronic key fob to open the door to her preferred room. Once inside, she went to the small, fully stocked bar, and poured a finger of white tequila into a small glass, and followed it up with a splash of soda water. She took a swallow, and walked into the small en suite bathroom. The liquor warmed her from the inside, and soothed her frayed nerves, and succeeded in loosening her up a little, shaking off her confrontation with Michael.

In front of the full-length mirror, she shook off her blazer and unbuttoned her shirt then pushed her skirt over her thighs. The need for physical release pulsed through her and she didn’t want to waste any time getting naked once Eric showed up. In her matching black bra and panties, and favorite pair of black stilettos, she liked what she saw.

She brushed her hair back with her fingers, and did a shimmy in her bra to push her already-ample breasts higher. Checking the time, she guessed Eric would be there soon. She knew he looked forward to their infrequent encounters. She checked out her figure in the mirror as she reapplied her cherry-red lipstick, and she smiled. Hell, can you blame him?

Michael’s face was set in a frustrated frown as he crossed the floor of Di Terrestres. He’d come to Vegas ready to get to work, to put everything in his past behind him and put down roots in a new city. To start a new successful life. But as he slung the plastic dry cleaning bags over his forearm, he shook his head. There was one thing standing in his way of that. Alana.

So far, his first day had included pissing off his new boss, then hitting on her, then being sent to pick up her dry cleaning. But he wanted to do more work than that. He was restless.

Normally, there was a way for him to ease his restlessness—sex. It was plenty available in Vegas, especially at Di Terrestres, but he wasn’t interested in taking part in the activities at the club. He had to focus his time and energy on work, to make a good first impression on his new bosses. He’d already blown that to hell with Alana, he knew. But he had to be on his best behavior going forward.

Whether she knew it or not, she’d kicked his ass all over her office. But the thing was, he’d kind of liked it. He was a dominant type, he liked control—in every aspect of his life—and he’d identified the same traits in Alana. She ran one of the most well-known erotic clubs in the country, and was known internationally. He knew from experience that it wasn’t an easy job, and he respected that. It couldn’t have been easy being her—and that was most likely the reason for the walls she had erected around her—he could see them, felt them. But even though she was his boss, he was confident that with a little persistence, he could break them down.

He recalled the way she narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips at him. Standing face-to-face with her had stiffened his dick, and he’d wanted to reach out and kiss her. But he didn’t. As well as being a sucker for punishment, he was a professional. He needed the fresh start that she and her friends had given him. And keeping it in his pants to do the job was imperative.

He scanned Di Terrestres as he headed for the private suites. They had put him up in a room there until he could find a suitable place of his own. His room was well equipped but on the small side, and he knew he would need to find something bigger once he got settled in the city. Looking around the club, during peak hours, he was able to see the crowds that flocked to Di Terrestres. The people who gathered for the drinks and conversation that preluded a night at an erotic club. The energy felt so close to that of his own place, and he felt it snap and sizzle through his blood. He couldn’t wait to get down to work. Pull his weight and show Gabe, Alana and the others that they had made the best decision in bringing him aboard.

He came to the staircase, and, nodding at Andre, the host he’d met earlier, Michael bounded up the stairs, removing the electronic fob from his pocket. He stopped outside his room, and held the key over the pad to unlock the door. Shifting Alana’s dry cleaning to his other arm, he entered his suite.

His bags were still packed, sitting by the door, the room still neat and unlived-in, but there was something out of place. A black patent leather purse was left on the small table. The bottle of tequila had been taken from its place in the wet bar and left out of place.

“It’s about time you got here,” someone called from the bathroom. He knew the feminine voice, even though it was tinged with a bit of humor, and not the anger he’d heard in it earlier. But he waited, shocked and silent by the door, still holding the plastic bags of clothing as he heard the click of stilettos on the tile floor as she got closer, and he could picture the red soles on the bottom of her shoes. He knew exactly who would turn the corner to enter the room, but nothing prepared him for the vision of Alana Carter—his new boss—standing before him in her bra and panties and expensive high heel shoes.

Her smile faltered when she saw him, and not the person she’d been expecting. They stood several feet apart, watching each other. She finally spoke, making no effort to cover herself. He was grateful for that. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Alana might have looked amazing in her suit earlier that day, but wearing nothing but her undergarments and high heels, she was something else. “This is my room,” Michael told her. “Gabe arranged it. I’m staying here until I can find a place of my own. What are you doing here?”

“This is my private suite,” she told him. As if she had just realized she was nearly naked in front of him, she whipped the top blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her perfect body. She shook her head. “You need to get out of here.”

Michael made no move to leave. “Where am I supposed to stay?” he challenged. “All of my things are here. And I have a key,” he said, dangling the fob from his fingers.

She shook her head. “There must have been some kind of mistake. A mix-up. This sort of thing shouldn’t happen here.”

For once, they were on the same page. A mistake like that could be dangerous, and costly for the club, and for more than one reason he was grateful that it had been him and Alana who’d been the unwitting victims of the blunder. “I don’t know what happened, maybe Gabe put me here so I wouldn’t be using a room for guests.” He let his eyes run up and down her partially covered body. His heart stuttered in his chest as it pumped all of his blood southward. “But we can deal with it later.”

There was a knock on the door. Michael inclined his head in the direction of the door. “You expecting someone else?”

“As a matter of fact, I was.”

Michael chuckled, enjoying seeing the unflappable Alana off her game again. He headed to the door and opened it. On the other side he saw a man, just as tall as he was, just as built. The anticipation in his smile dropped as did the corners of his lips when he saw Michael standing there.

“Who are you?” the other man asked.

“I’m Michael,” he explained. “You should probably leave, though, mate. I don’t know about you, but I’m not quite looking for a three-way tonight.”

The man looked over Michael’s shoulder to Alana. “Everything okay?”

Alana, still wrapped in the blanket, inserted herself between them. “Everything is fine, Eric. I’m sorry about this, but you should leave.”

Eric took one last look at Alana, still wrapped in her blanket. “All right. If you’re sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

Eric nodded, having lost the battle. Michael understood the disappointment the other man must have been feeling, to have such a promising night with this woman snatched away from his grasp.

Alana shut the door and headed back to the bathroom, and Michael knew that she was going to get dressed.

“Is this why I had to pick up your dry cleaning?” he teased, and she stopped and turned to face him. “So you could find the time to get fucked by some bloke named Eric?”

“It’s really none of your business,” she insisted, grabbing the dry cleaning bags from the dresser.

Michael cracked a smile. “Although I must say, you’re sending me some mixed messages. Telling me you’ll put my balls in your purse and then asking me to pick up your lingerie.” Her eyes widened as she flipped through the items. She must have forgotten the delicate nature of the things she’d directed him to pick up. “I have to tell you, though, you look good in black—” he nodded at the bra and panties she was wearing under the blanket “—but I really like the red thing.”

Alana huffed out a breath. Michael laughed, and he knew that just made her angrier. He was having fun, and it gave him a sick kind of thrill to know that he frustrated her so much.

“Don’t worry, my dry cleaning will never again be on your to-do list.”

“Too bad,” he said with a shrug and a deep chuckle.

“I’m getting dressed,” she told him, heading again for the bathroom.

“Stop,” he commanded her, his voice just above a whisper. She did as he said and turned. He couldn’t tell if the flare of her nostrils was from fury or desire. He would put his money on a combination of both. He took a step closer. “You know, this might have been a mix-up, us ending up in the same room, but there’s no reason we should squander this opportunity.”

As he stood in front of her, she tilted her head upward, looking him in the eye. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe we were both thrown together in here for a reason. Like fate.”

“You believe in fate?”

If he believed in fate, he considered it a fickle bitch, given his recent past. Especially since the first woman he’d had a sexual interest in in the past couple of months, the one standing in front of him almost naked, was his boss.

He took a step closer. The blanket she’d wrapped around herself brushed against his chest. The contact made him tense up. “I can feel the sexual tension between us, and I know you can, too.”

“Oh, you really think so?”

“I know so.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and raised her face to meet his. “I don’t know the reasons why, but I know you don’t want me here. But I am here, and I’m not going anywhere, so no matter how cold you are to me, or how many meaningless tasks you give me, I’m going to stick it out and do my job, and that’s to run this club like I know how.”

“This is my club,” she told him. “You’ll do exactly what I say, when I say it, and you’ll thank me for the orders.” Her voice was firm, but the tremble of her lip told him that she was unsure.

But he took a deep breath, and inhaled her scent. Light, citrusy, breezy, playful—so unlike the woman who wore it. “Sure, but you have to know that I’m not a man who takes orders.” He hooked his finger underneath the blanket she’d wrapped around her body and it fell to the ground, again leaving her in only her bra and panties.

She gasped, but made no movement to cover herself. “That’s too bad,” she told him, pulling back from his touch. “I’m your boss. And I give orders.”

“I’m just asking for a chance to do my job without you micromanaging me.”

She cleared her throat. “We’ll see how it goes. I expect to have complete oversight. But I’m sure we can come to some sort of an understanding.”

“Would that understanding include both of us staying in this room tonight? We can work out whatever this tension is between us? You’re a beautiful, sensual woman, and I want you. I know you like what you see when you look at me. Let’s explore this. See where it goes.”

She hesitated, and he wondered if she might agree. He hoped to God that she would because the desire that racked his body was bound to snap him in two.

“No,” she said firmly. Michael stepped back from her, giving her space—that was the magic word, and he took it very seriously. “You work for me.” She now looked perfectly lucid and waved her hands between them. “This can’t happen.” Pushing past him, she walked back into the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m getting dressed,” she told him, slamming the door after her. Michael went to the wet bar and picked up the bottle of tequila she’d moved earlier and drank straight from the bottle in an attempt to quiet his raging hormones. In a couple of minutes, she came back into the room, fully dressed and holding her dry cleaning bags. She was once again the unflappable businesswoman. “Listen, Michael,” she said, pointing a finger in his face. “Nothing is going to happen between us. This was all a horrible mistake.”

She left the room and slammed the door behind her. Already Michael had had two encounters with his new boss. Even though he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman, he knew that she was right. They shared an intense connection, and he knew that they would have an amazing night together, but maybe it would be best for them to remain professional. He looked down and saw the way his dick had tented his slacks. Tell that to his body.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN ALANA STEPPED inside the elevator the next morning, she wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived at the top floor. She’d stayed in bed too long that morning, for more than an hour, willing herself to get up. For the first time in a long time, Alana didn’t want to go to work, just because she knew Michael would be there.

Since leaving the club the night before, the whole sordid mess replayed over and over in her mind. Meeting Michael in her office, having him walk into her room in Di Terrestres. She’d been so close to letting go, and having sex with him, but she’d thankfully restrained herself. Her stomach knotted thinking about the ramifications that kind of mistake could have had. Hell, it was bad enough that she’d found herself mostly naked in front of her newest employee—the one she wanted more than any man in a long time.

Alana had been so tightly strung going home the night before that not even pushing herself to the limit on her treadmill, and a session with her best vibrator, had been able to bring her any sort of relief. And on top of that, she’d been unable to sleep any more than an hour or two—all she could think about was Michael, and how easily she’d almost crumbled when presented with the opportunity of having him. Every time she’d closed her eyes, she saw Michael. She could still smell him when she crawled into bed alone…

What could she do? She couldn’t fire him without cause, as she’d been the one who’d been almost naked. She couldn’t act on their obvious chemistry; that could surely lead to a sexual harassment suit—not that she thought Michael would report her. He was clearly just as game as she was, but she had to be careful. “What a mess,” she said to herself in the empty elevator car. The only thing she could do was ignore their chemistry, ignore how much she wanted him and try to work alongside him.

That didn’t stop the twinge of anticipation she felt flutter her stomach at the prospect of seeing him, or the uncertainty of how their working relationship would play out. Would he be just as aggressive? Would they spend all their time fighting? Would Alana jump him at the first opportunity? Part of her hoped that he would have already booked the first flight back to London. But she didn’t think so. He didn’t seem to be the type of man who would just run away. She would just have to put on her big-girl panties and deal with his presence in a mature and professional way.

When the elevator arrived at her floor, the doors parted, and with new resolve, she stepped outside and walked down the bright hallway to her office. It was a surprise when she saw that Michael was sitting on the small couch in the reception area outside her locked office, beating each of her very punctual assistants to work.

Alana covered her smile with her iced Americano. She didn’t want to admit that she was glad to see him sitting there, in her reception area, his long arms stretched across the back of the couch.

“You’re here early,” she told him, making her way to her office and using her thumbprint to unlock the door. He stood and followed her inside as she put her purse and shoulder bag on top of her desk.

She caught his smile as he consulted his watch. “Seven thirty on the dot,” he announced. “I like to start early.”

Alana admired a strong work ethic. “Good,” she said, facing the large windows behind her desk. When she turned back, he was standing in front of her. Suddenly reminded of their height difference—he towered over her by at least a foot—she was forced to look up at him. He held out his right hand, as if it was a peace offering.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, frowning. “I know we got off on the wrong foot. It was my fault. And I’m sorry for taking advantage of what was definitely an embarrassing situation for both of us. I was a Neanderthal yesterday.”

“Thank you.” She shook his hand. And electricity buzzed through her. Capable hands. Strong, commanding hands. “I appreciate that. And I want to apologize as well. I wasn’t myself yesterday, either. I wasn’t feeling well, and your arrival took me by surprise. And then when you ended up in my suite…” Not finishing the sentence, she trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t like surprises.”

“I can tell.” He straightened. “We have a truce, yeah? We’ll work together in a professional manner. You are my boss, and I will remember that.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Just as long as you remember that I’m not here to run your personal errands,” he told her.

“I know that.” She had no intention of treating him like her personal errand boy. She felt he’d learned his lesson—that no matter what, she was his boss, and was completely in charge, even though she wasn’t completely sure that was true anymore. But he had showed that he was a good sport. I really like the red thing. His words still rang through her head. It was completely unrelated that “the red thing” was the sheer red lace bodysuit she’d chosen to put on underneath her wrap dress that morning. Completely unrelated, she reminded herself.

Michael cleared his throat. He’d caught her daydreaming. She looked up at him and his knowing smile. “What’s on our to-do list today?” he asked. “It is officially my first day.”

Michael was down to business. And Alana was grateful for it. While concentrating on her work, she could maintain a cool upper hand. At Di Terrestres, she was in charge, and with her to-do list looming over her, she could forget about her libido, and every hormone that screamed out to her for Michael. “I guess we can start by giving you a tour of the club before we open the doors. Then, seeing as how our conversation got off track yesterday, we can talk about my expectations and your responsibilities.”

“Sounds good to me. I hope it goes a little better than our last conversation, though.” She turned to face him and he was again wearing that cocky, knowing grin on his full lips. “I mean, I had fun, but we didn’t exactly accomplish much, now, did we?”

“What happened yesterday will never happen again. We run a professional operation here. I don’t normally let my emotions get the better of me. You caught me on a bad day. And I certainly don’t parade around in my underwear in front of my employees.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, shrugging. “It’d be good for morale.”

He was incorrigible. Ignoring his comment, she shook her head. She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s get down to business.”

“I’m all for getting down to business,” he said, winking.

Pointing a finger at Michael, Alana brushed past him. “Watch it,” she warned him, attempting to stop the smile from forming on her lips. As seriously as she took her job and the club, she couldn’t help but have fun bantering with Michael.

“Oh, I’ll watch it,” he said, making no secret of the fact he was looking at her ass. The fire that had burned between them the day before still lingered, despite their truce. She rolled her eyes, and pointed to the door. “Come on,” she instructed, walking in front of him, making sure to put a little extra swivel in her gait as she walked away.

“This is the main playroom,” Alana told him as she led him down a wide staircase. So far, she’d shown him the bar, the private rooms. The Brotherhood ran a tight, clean operation, but he wouldn’t be able to get a feel of the place until it opened later that evening. Then he could see how Di Terrestres really operated with a packed house.

Michael was relieved that while a lot of the sexual tension had remained from the night before, at least most of the animosity seemed to have evaporated. They’d reached an uneasy truce, but he knew that the fire between them remained, that it would continue to burn whether they wanted it to or not. Hopefully, he could manage not to get burned.

He looked around at the plush benches and couches that lined the walls, several platforms, and tables that were bolted to the floor. Despite the bare furnishings, the large room still managed to feel intimate, classy, even with the lights up. “This place looks great.”

“Want to see the dungeon?” she asked. Michael ran the words over and over through his head, trying to determine if there was a hint of innuendo in her voice. “It wasn’t a trick question,” she added when he didn’t respond.

“Yeah, let’s see it.”

She pushed open the wooden door, and escorted him into the dungeon. With the lights up, he knew it looked different than it would when the club was open and the room in operation. Several Saint Andrew’s crosses and different types of racks were scattered strategically throughout the room, while restraints, whips and other implements adorned the walls. Several cleaners diligently cleaned and sanitized without even looking up at them.

Michael took it all in, and he barely heard Alana beside him, still speaking. He didn’t normally frequent the dungeon scene but he couldn’t stop thinking about taking Alana in there sometime, showing her how he also liked to be in control. He tried to mentally shake himself free of the image of Alana naked that had plagued him since the night before. This was supposed to be his new start. It was too important for him to screw up by lusting over his new boss. He had to get out of the dungeon, out of the playroom. He needed some air. “If there’s nothing else to see down here, why don’t we head back upstairs?” he suggested. “We can talk in my new office.”

Alana nodded, and Michael wondered if he was imagining the longing way she looked around at the sexual apparatuses around them. He knew he had some sort of effect on Alana, but he wasn’t sure just how far it went.

She preceded him up the stairs to the main floor of the club. His gaze dropped to her ass. The skirt of her emerald green wrap dress swayed with her hips; the swishing of the soft-looking material made him want to reach out to touch her. But with the way the tension crackled between them, he knew it would either lead to her smacking him, or him pinning her against the wall. Both options would be equally disastrous. Because he knew if he touched or kissed Alana, he would never want to stop.

“Have you seen your new office yet?” she asked, looking back to him as they crested the top of the stairs.

“I haven’t.”

She grimaced. “It might be a little unorganized. We’ve been using it as an extra storage room. We’ve been without a general manager for a few months.”

“Who’s been doing the job since then?”

“Me.”

“I see.” Michael knew the work that went into running a club. For one person, it could be the equivalent of two full-time jobs. “That must have been a lot of work for you.”

“Yeah.” She pulled a plastic key fob from her purse and hovered it over a sensor, and Michael heard the click of the door unlocking. They walked into the room, and the motion sensor lights turned on. He looked around at the cluttered office. It was a nice size, but one wouldn’t know that based on the boxes, bags, old furniture scattered throughout. It was a far cry from the outward appearance of the public areas of the club, which were kept in immaculate condition.

“It’s a bit of mess, I know, but we’ll get some people in to clean it ASAP. Your arrival was a bit of a surprise to me.”

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