Cross Check (Marriage Contract #1) (5 page)

“There’s a real shit storm brewing out there, Gigi,” I tell
my feline companion, falling into a boozy slumber. “Let’s just hope this is the
worst of it, huh?”

Chapter Three

“You might not want to go in there just now…” Pippa warns
me earnestly, trying to block my path as I head into my office.

“Not now, Pips,” I dismiss her, “I have way too much work
to get through this morning.”

“But Leah,” my assistant insists, grabbing hold of my
arm. “Don’t you know? This isn’t even your office anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” I snap, yanking my arm out
of her grasp and storming past her. “Of course it’s my—”

But as I wrench open the door to my office and step
briskly inside, my heart slams against my ribcage with the force of a wrecking
ball. My body goes stock still with rage as I take in the sight of Jamison King
sitting at my desk, his Italian shoes resting atop a stack of important papers.
His jet black suit is cut perfectly to his sculpted, relaxed form as he sits
back in my leather chair, completely unperturbed by my entrance.

“Good morning, Leah,” he drawls in his rich, irresistible
voice. “Nice of you to stop by.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. King,” I hear Pippa whisper behind me, “I
tried to stop her—”

“That’s OK, sweethearts,” Jay laughs charitably, “Be a
good girl and give me a moment alone with Miss Brody here, would you?”

With a lovesick sigh, Pippa closes the door in my wake.
As hard as I will my body to move, I’m utterly rooted in place as Jamison
stands to face me, his gorgeous form elongated with newfound prestige and
power. He looks damn good sitting in a corner office, I’ll give him that. But
he can sure as shit go find a corner office of his own.

“Don’t be mad at me, baby,” Jay chuckles, striding across
the room to where I stand frozen, “I’m just following the boss’s orders.”

“This can’t be happening…” I manage to hiss through
gritted teeth, “You can’t just march in here and—”

“On the contrary,” Jay murmurs, stopping before me with
not an inch of space between our bodies. “I can. And do you know why that is,
Leah?”

“No. But I’m sure you’ll tell me,” I all but snarl,
furious with my body for its electric excitement at the closeness of him.

Jamison circles his hands around my slender waist, pulls
me flush against him.

“Because you want me here,” he growls, running his hands
over the firm rise of my ass, letting me feel his staggering cock flush against
my sex. “Go on. Admit that you want me.”

I turn my face from his, trying desperately to hold my
tongue. Of course I want him here. Right here, where I can feel his body
against mine. That’s all I wanted for years, now. Since the last time I felt
him deep, deep inside of me. But I can’t just come out and say it.

“I can’t give you what you want unless you tell me…” he
teases, letting his lips brush against the shell of my ear, driving me madder
with every passing moment.

“I…” the sound escapes my throat, wavering with lust. I
clench my thighs together, trying to control the thunderous, pulsating need
rattling every cell in my body.

“Tell me,” he urges, as I steady myself against his
perfectly muscled form, “Tell me that you want me to bend you over that desk
and fuck you till you scream.”

A low, ragged groan rips from my lips as my knees give
out beneath me. Jamison catches me easily in his arms as I gasp for breath,
beside myself with desperate need.

“Please,” I beg him, grabbing hold of his expensive
jacket with trembling hands, “I want you to… I need you to…”

“Go on,” he commands, his blue eyes flaming as they bore
into me.

“Fuck me, Jay,” I whisper, giving my entire self over to
him, “Now.”

“See?” he grins, tracing his fingertip along the outline
of my jaw, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Before I can utter another syllable, Jay scoops me up
into his corded arms. My office spins around me as he pivots across the room,
crossing the space in three easy paces. My breath goes out of me as he flings
me down across my own desk, sending papers and files flying every which way. I
rest my cheek against the cool oak as he bends me over, pinning my torso to the
desk as he tears down my panties with one sharp tug, whips open his belt buckle
with a clatter. I wrap my fingers around the far edge of the desk, bracing
myself as I feel the tip of his massive cock brush against my soaking wet
pussy.

“Christ, I’ve missed you…” I breathe, glancing up at his
sculpted face.

“I was only eighteen the last time you had me,” he grins
back, trailing a hand down my spine, “I think you’ll find I’ve grown some since
then.”

I scream out in amazement and pleasure as Jamison drives
his cock deep inside my eager body. For a moment, I’m convinced that he’s going
to drive straight through me. But as he cocks back his hips and thrusts
mightily again, I press myself hard against him, taking every single glorious
inch of him into my body. He’s a hell of a lot of man, but I’m just the woman
to handle him. I’ve always known that.

Jay grabs a hold of my auburn hair, wrenching my head
back just the way I like as he fucks he hard against my desk. I meet his every
thrust with vigorous hunger, crying out as he slams deliciously into my core.
Just when I think I can’t take any more, Jay reaches around my writhing body,
laying two sure fingers against my clit as he pounds into me from behind. A
long, low moan rises from my throat as he rubs that hard bundle, sending bolts
of sensation coursing through my body. My knuckles are turning white as I
struggle to hang onto the desk.

“Come for me, Brody…” Jay commands, rolling my aching
clit beneath his fingers as his cock thrusts into the very core of me. “You
know you want to…”

I can’t contain myself for another second. With total
abandon, I give up every ounce of control, letting myself be swept away by
intoxicating euphoria. I lose track of my mind as body alike as my whole self
is subsumed by pure, throbbing sensation. The room around me fades and blurs
into a kaleidoscope of color as my powerful orgasm rushes through me. The only
real thing in the entire world is the weight of Jamison’s body against mine—the
singular feel of him that I could never, ever forget.

“Jay,” I whisper, turning around to face him in my
delirium, “Just stay here, would you?”

“No can do,” he replies, planting a searing kiss of my
lips before pulling away, “But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“What?” I gasp, as his gorgeous face fades into the
blurry background. “No, don’t—”

But it’s too late. He’s already disappeared from view.
And not just him, the entire world around me is drifting out of focus, growing
dimmer and colder even as I look on. My grasp on my surroundings is slipping,
no matter how hard I try to hold onto to this perfect moment. I don’t want to
lose this, I don’t want to leave, but a dawning realization is hanging
overhead, bearing down on me with every passing moment…

A familiar, jangling sound rises up out of the darkness, as
if from very far away. Little by little it advances, reaching out to me across
the abyss. At last, the blaring noise registers in my muddled mind. A ringing I’d
know anywhere.

Prying open my sleep-filled eyes, I look around my studio
apartment in confusion. My surroundings are bathed in the gray light of very
early morning. It’s Monday, and my alarm is set for 7am, just like always.
Only, it isn’t my alarm going off at all. Someone’s calling me. Grabbing for
the phone on my bedside table, I feel my stomach flip over as I see the time:
4am. Nothing good ever comes from a 4am phone call. I’m slightly relieved to
see Pippa’s name flashing on the screen. I suppose I can handle a mere work
emergency, even at this hour.

“Pippa, do you know what time it is?” I murmur into my cell,
trepidation tugging at the corners of my consciousness.

I’m still trying to shake off my scintillating dream as I
wait for my assistant’s response. I swear, I can still feel Jamison’s body
pressed against me. God knows, that aching throb between my legs is real
enough. I’m so distracted by the lingering sensation of my erotic dream that it
takes me a moment to pick up on the gasping sounds flitting over the line.

“Pippa?” I repeat, sitting bolt upright, “Pippa, are you
crying?”

“I’m s-sorry, Leah…” I hear my assistant sob, “I wanted to
try and keep it together until after I’d told you…”

“Told me what?” I ask, heart in my throat. Sitting alone in
my darkened studio, my imagination runs amok. Has there been a fire at the
office? A terrorist attack? Biological warfare sweeping the city? “Pippa,” I
say desperately, panic mounting, “What’s happened?”

“It’s the Kings,” she finally manages to splutter, “Loudon
and Priscilla, I mean. They’re— Oh, Leah…”

“Please Pippa,” I say softly, clutching the cell phone with
both hands, “Just tell me.”

“They’re gone,” she breathes at last, “I’ve only just gotten
word.”

“Wh-what do you mean, they’re gone?” I ask, feeling all at
once like a frightened child.

“Their plane crashed on the way back from the Vineyard,”
Pippa goes on sorrowfully, “It was one of those little puddle jumpers, you
know. And there a storm. Came out of nowhere.”

“Oh my god,” I whisper, numbness sweeping through my body.
It’s all I can manage to say. “Oh my god. Oh my god…”

“Word is starting to spread through the company,” Pippa
tells me, “I’m sure people will have a lot of questions in the morning. Well,
later in the morning…”

“Right,” I reply, my voice hollow. “Right. Of course.”

“You’re Mr. King’s right hand,” Pippa says, “I’m sure people
would prefer to hear the news from you, Leah.”

The prospect of addressing my coworkers, of breaking this terrible
news to them, turns my stomach. But Pippa’s right, of course. It’s what Loudon
would have wanted. My heart strains as I think of my beloved boss in the past
tense for the first time. Some part of me clings to the hope that this is just
another dream that I’ll wake up from when the sun rises. But no. This hurts far
too much to be a dream.

“Mr. King—Jamison, I mean—is going with his sister to
identify the bodies,” Pippa goes on tremulously, “So of course, he won’t be
coming into the office today after all.”

“No. Of course not,” I say, as Jay’s name sends a pang of
despair slicing through me. “Look, Pippa, I need to go. I just… I need to
think.”

“Of course Leah,” my assistant says quickly, “I just wanted
you to hear from me first.”

“Thanks Pips. I appreciate it.”

“And…Leah?” she goes on.

“Yes?”

“I’m…I’m so sorry for your loss,” Pippa replies.

Unable to speak around the knot in my throat, I end the call
and set down my phone with shaking hands. I sit in perfect stillness and
silence, barely aware of the room brightening around me as the sun rises over
Manhattan. It isn’t until my actual alarm goes off, hours later, that I shake
myself into action. Dealing with this news is going to be a long, painful
process. But that process, like all other, begins with a first step.

Shaking, I pull myself to standing, wipe my eyes, and ready
myself for the difficult day ahead.

***

The entire next week rushes by in a confused jumble. The
deaths of Loudon and Priscilla King aren’t just tragedies for those who knew
them; they’re international news. King Enterprises is a gigantic operation, one
of the most successful financing companies in the modern media landscape. The
entire entertainment industry is clamoring for information about what happens
next, what they can expect from the company moving forward, who’s going to be
in charge now that Loudon King, the long-time president, has died. And while
I’m bombarded with my fair share of press inquiries, panicked calls from
clients, and news of collaborators hedging their bets, it’s all white noise to
my ears. Before Loudon King was my boss, he was my mentor. Above all, I need to
process his death on a personal level, and help those closest to him through
this terrible time.

Thankfully, Loudon and Priscilla left detailed instructions
behind in case something should happen to them simultaneously. All of the
arrangements are taken care of by the Kings’ personal staff. The memorial is
set for the following Saturday, at the family’s church in Little Silver—my
hometown. And so on night Friday, after scrambling to keep things under control
at work all week, I gather my things and get ready to make a somber trip home.
I pack a bag for the weekend, coax Gigi into her travel carrier, and hop on the
2 train down to Penn Station. After far too long an absence, I make my way back
to the King Estate once again.

It’s nearly two in the morning by the time my taxi pulls up
to the modest groundskeeper’s cottage. I gingerly pick up Gigi’s carrier,
trying my best not to jostle her, and step out into the warm June night. Dad’s
left the porch light on for me, and as the cab drives away I stoop down to grab
the spare key out from under the door mat. Balancing my hastily-gathered
belongings, I ease open the front door and step inside. All at once, the
familiar feeling of home brings tears prickling to my eyes.

All this week, I’ve been rushing around like a crazy person
trying to keep things afloat in the wake of Loudon’s death. I’ve been so busy
that I haven’t had a moment to pause and mourn the man himself. But being back
in this cottage, right next door to the house where Loudon and Priscilla lived,
where I mourned the loss of my own mother all those years ago, I finally feel
safe enough to let the pain and loss wash over me.

Setting down my bags, I lift the latch on Gigi’s carrier and
cradle her close as I sink heavily onto the living room couch. She curls up
beside me as I bury my face in the well-worn throw pillow and let the tears
come at last.