The Temptation Trap, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance) (10 page)

I
changed back
into my jeans before we left, unable to bear the idea of going into Axel's offices wearing a pair of sweatpants. I would've put my sweater back on, but it had blood on it. I was pretty sure I never wanted to touch it again. I did salvage my T-shirt, so at least I was wearing my own clothes, even if they weren't clothes I would've chosen.

I still wasn't exactly sure what Axel did for a living. Both Griffen and Axel had mentioned Sinclair Security. I knew Axel’s last name—his
real
last name—was Sinclair, so I was assuming that he was in charge. Griffen had said he worked for Axel's brothers, but Axel had implied that meant he also worked for Axel, which further implied that Axel didn't work for anyone.

I was a little intimidated. I had a feeling, based on Harper’s comment about Axel’s fees, and the big house overlooking Lake Mead, that Axel’s business was pretty high-profile. On top of all my other misgivings about any relationship with Axel, I felt a niggle of insecurity. I wasn't the kind of girl who dated fabulously wealthy men with lake houses.

The ride back into town was quiet. I didn't remember how long it had taken to get there the night before. I knew it would take about an hour to get back to Las Vegas, assuming that’s where Axel's office was. We rode in silence the entire way, and I grew more curious as we entered the city. When we headed downtown and Axel abruptly pulled the SUV into an underground parking garage, I was surprised. I don't know what I had expected, but the building above looked just like any other. Had I thought it would look like James Bond worked there?

The SUV wound its way deeper underground in the parking garage until we turned into a brightly lit alcove beside an elevator. As Axel opened the driver's side door to the SUV, the elevator doors slid open. At this point in our relationship, I knew better than to get out of the car by myself. If Axel hadn’t liked me to do that before my life was in danger, I figured he probably wouldn't want me to do it now. He was at my door a moment later, taking my arm to help me out and lead me to the elevator, the door still open, as if it were waiting for us. Maybe it was.

“What’s up with the elevator?" I asked.

“When my SUV entered the garage, it signaled the control room upstairs. Whoever is on duty would've seen me, known where I was going to park, and sent the elevator."

“Nice," I said, impressed. That was pretty cool. The elevator itself was slick, a generously sized box of brushed steel, the buttons flush with the panel and nearly invisible, with no numbers.

"How do people know which button to push?" I asked. There were more than twenty buttons on the panel. It must be annoying to have to find the right one every time you used the elevator.

Axel grinned and said, “Mostly we don't have to bother. This elevator is for company use only. You can reach all of the floors on it if you need the buttons, but if you're going to our offices and you have your ID on you—which you need to get in through the door anyway—the elevator reads it and knows where you're going."

I realized I hadn't seen him push any of the buttons when we got in. Very slick. The elevator carried us smoothly upward, and with every flight, my curiosity grew. Finally, the doors slid open. If I'd been looking for James Bond, here he was. The foyer of Sinclair Security was elegant and expensive, every surface black, gray, or brushed steel.

The room was small. Surprisingly small. Then I realized it wasn't so much a foyer as it was a containment room. We left the elevator and entered from the side. Two solid brushed steel doors were to my right, and opposite them, a second set of elevator doors. Beside the steel doors, an oversized flat screen monitor was built in flush to the wall with a keypad underneath. On the other side of the doors was a smaller flat screen, also set flush to the wall. It didn't look big enough to be a monitor. There was nothing else in the small room aside from a sign on the wall with the words
Sinclair Security
in a bold script, with a double S logo beneath it. I expected the doors to click open at Axel's approach as the elevator had.

They remained solidly shut. He reached over and placed his palm on the smaller of the monitors. Not a monitor then, but a hand scanner. The screen briefly glowed an alien green and went dark. A second later, I heard a lock click.

"What if you don't have the right handprint?" I asked. Axel tipped his head toward the large monitor on the other side of the door.

“You can dial the front desk from there.”

He led me through the first set of doors, and I found myself in a reception area not unlike one you might find in any upscale office, with black leather couches, light gray walls, darker gray carpet, and brushed steel accents everywhere. The office screamed power.

Adding further to this impression, the man sitting behind the shiny black and steel desk did not look like any receptionist I'd ever seen before. Bald, with graying stubble and keen brown eyes, he wore a button-down shirt that did little to disguise his bulky shoulders and muscled arms. A scar bisected his nose, and another ran down his cheek. With his eyes on his computer, his face was hard-angled and forbidding. At our entry, he looked up and grinned at Axel.

“Got your orders this morning. Everything's in your office. Lola works fast," he said.

Axel nodded. “She does. Would you bring in some coffee?”

The man nodded and looked at me, raising his eyebrows. Axel, remembering his manners, said, "Billy, this is Emma Wright. Emma, this is Billy. He manages the office. He's my equivalent of you."

Billy let out a surprisingly jolly laugh. In explanation, Axel said, “Emma’s in human resources."

Billy kept laughing and said, "I bet you'd handle the crew around here a little differently than I do. But then if we had someone as gorgeous as you trying to wrangle these guys, no one would ever get anything done."

“That’s for damn sure," Axel said. He wound his arm around my waist and led me past Billy's desk to another brushed steel door. He didn't do anything to unlock this one—maybe Billy did it—but I heard the click of the lock as we approached. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that a security company had so many locked doors.

It looked like they could withstand a siege. I wondered how easy it would be to get up here from the lobby if you didn't have an appointment. I suspected it would be nearly impossible. We went down the hall, then turned down another hall, both of which were lined with closed doors. We didn't pass a single person on our way.

"Does anyone else work here?" I asked. “It's so quiet." Maybe security specialists didn’t work on weekends. It
was
Saturday.

Axel opened the door at the end of the hall and ushered me into a spacious office. Keeping true to theme, it had a long, wide black desk, black bookshelves, and a black leather couch on the opposite side of the room. The couch was covered with what looked like Neiman Marcus shopping bags. They were the only thing in the room that wasn’t black, gray, or brushed steel.

Two black leather chairs sat opposite the desk. Axel led me to one and took the other for himself.

“I've got a good-sized team,” he said, “but most of them are in the field. Or they were in the field last night and they haven't made it into the office today. I don't micro-manage. They have their assignments, and I know they're getting them done."

"But doesn't anyone work in the office? Or is it so quiet because it’s the weekend?" I asked.

"Weekends are a little slower, but there are always two people in the control room. And I have some IT people—" the way he said
IT
made me think they were less network administrators and more like hackers, "but they have their own space on the floor above us. I try not to bother them unless I have to. They don't like their focus interrupted."

Billy entered carrying two steaming mugs of coffee on a tray, along with a small stainless steel pitcher of cream and a matching bowl of sugar. He placed the tray on the desk and said, “Anything else?"

"No, we're good. Thanks, Billy."

Billy gave a half mocking salute and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

I couldn't contain my curiosity any longer and gestured to the mess on the couch. “What's all that?"

“That’s yours. You had to leave your clothes behind last night. Since it's not safe to take you back to your apartment, I didn't want you to be stuck in the same jeans and T-shirt until we get this worked out. I had my personal shopper set you up.”

My jaw dropped. The couch was
covered
with Neiman Marcus bags. I loved Neiman’s. I could spend many deliriously happy hours in Neiman Marcus, usually at the sale racks. I made a great salary, but when you love to shop, even a great salary doesn't go that far if you buy everything you like, especially in a store like Neiman Marcus. There were
a lot
of bags on the couch.

"How much did you think I’d need?" I asked. Axel shrugged.

"I told her your sizes and that you wouldn't have any clothes or any other personal items for a few weeks. She figured it out from there."

“But how did you know my sizes? And what do you mean she figured it out?”

Axel gave me a level stare. "There is very little about you, Emma, that I haven't noticed. I know what size clothes you wear. I know what size shoes you wear. I know that you have bigger than average feet, and they’re on the narrow side. I know you like boot cut jeans, you don't like them to ride too low on your hips, and you prefer Lucky’s. I know you like comfortable fabrics, but you still like to look tailored and never messy. I know a lot about you. I don't know a lot about makeup, but I had Billy send a picture from your file so Lola would have an idea of your coloring. She’s very good at what she does, but if anything doesn't work, we'll send it back."

I couldn't stop staring at the pile of bags and boxes on the couch, especially not now that I knew what they were. I wanted to forget all my troubles and dig in. It would be lovely to get out of this T-shirt and jeans and even better to be able to put on a little makeup, maybe even do something with my hair. After all the confusion, pain, and fear of the last twenty-four hours, I would feel so much better if I knew I looked presentable. Then reality hit me.

"Axel, I can't afford any of this. I have some money saved up, but not so much that I can blow it all on a wardrobe I don’t really need. I already have a full closet."

Axel shook his head. "You are not paying for any of this. It's my fault you had to leave everything behind. It's my fault I can't take you back to your apartment. It's only fair that I cover the costs of solving that problem."

“Explain to me why I can't go back to my apartment," I said.

Unable to resist the siren call of new clothes, I got up from my chair and went to look through the bags. I could listen to Axel's explanation and check out my new stuff at the same time.

“Agent Tierney asked me not to blow my cover with Harper. Now that you can't go back to the office, they don't have anyone on the inside. Technically, my job with Harper is done. But as far as he knows, we parted on good terms. Tierney asked me not to compromise that unless I have to. It's likely they have someone watching your place. If I, or any of my people, take you there, he’ll know I'm helping you. Even if they don't make us, they’ll know where you are. It's not worth the risk."

That made sense. I pulled out a lightweight red and navy striped sweater with cute button detailing on the three-quarter length sleeves and a pair of Lucky jeans in my favorite style. Lola
was
good. Fortunately, she’d included underwear. Most of it was high end yet basic bras and panties. Everything was gorgeous, but it was for every day. Sorting through the bags, I found a few pieces that were definitely not functional lingerie. I spotted a red lace bra and panty set that wouldn’t do much to support my generous breasts, but I’d bet would look spectacular. A silk and lace negligée as light and thin as a whisper. A nearly transparent camisole with matching thong. I’d never worn La Perla, and as pissed as I was at Axel, I wasn't starting today, but I knew I'd put it on eventually. I didn't think I had it in me to be angry enough at
anyone
to resist La Perla for long. I took what I needed, plus the bag of makeup, and asked, "Bathroom?"

Axel indicated the back corner of his office, where the wall became a panel. It could've been a door, but it was missing a handle. I raised an eyebrow and looked at Axel for further direction. "Just walk closer and push on it. It’ll open if it's empty. If you're in there, it’ll stay locked until you come out."

Good enough for me. I picked up my coffee from the desk and disappeared into Axel’s bathroom. Sitting around in those bloodstained jeans and yesterday’s underwear, with messy hair and no makeup, I couldn't seem to settle down. Maybe it was irrational, but I wanted to pull myself together before the day went any further.

I was too annoyed at Axel to mind leaving him alone, so I took my time. Besides, it was his office, and this was a workday. I was sure he had plenty to keep him busy. I tried not to think about my empty desk at Harper Shipping. I’d worked hard for that job. I didn’t want to face that it was over.

Instead, I got dressed. The jeans and shirt fit perfectly. The jeans were a touch tight, not a surprise since they were brand new, but they looked good. And the sweater had a scoop neck and nipped-in waist that made me look like I had an hourglass figure. I loved it. I pulled on clean socks and the sneakers I’d brought with me, and I tried to fix my hair and face.

The makeup Lola had chosen fit my coloring, but it wasn't heavy-duty enough to cover the bruises. My black eye still looked pretty bad, even with some powder and blush to tone it down. I finished my makeup and dealt with my hair. Lola had included a travel hairdryer, flat iron, curling iron, and a selection of pins and barrettes. I could do a lot with all of that.

It didn't take me long to finish drying my hair and put it up in a casual braided side bun. I couldn't do anything more about the bruising on my face, but I felt a million times better now that I didn't look like I’d just rolled out of bed after losing a bar fight. Outside the door of the bathroom, I heard Axel's voice, raised in aggravated annoyance. Packing up my things, I pressed open the door and went to see what was going on.