Unleash Me, Vol. 1 (Unleash Me, Annihilate Me Series) (5 page)

BOOK: Unleash Me, Vol. 1 (Unleash Me, Annihilate Me Series)
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I
love you so much, Tank.


I
love you, too.


So,
I

ll
see you tonight?

He grinned at me.
 

How much of me do you want to see?


Everything.
 
Especially what

s lurking behind that
tent in your pants.

He looked down, adjusted himself, and
looked mischievously at me.
 

That

s for you,

he
said.
 

Later.
 
Promise.

Without warning, he pressed me hard
against a wall, he met my eyes with his own, and then he kissed me so deeply
that it nearly took my breath away.
 
I unbuttoned his jacket, and slid my hands inside so I felt the
silkiness of his shirt and the rock-hard sturdiness of his muscular frame.
 
Then, I reached up to cup his enormous
chest before I leaned forward to bite one of his nipples, which caused him to
tense.


And
that

s
for later,

I
said.
 

Now, button up,
stud.
 
And fix your pants
again.
 
You

ve got a pretty
impressive issue down there that needs to be tended to if you

re going to walk out
of this room with your reputation intact.


So,
why don

t
you tend to it.


You

re naughty,

I
said.
 
And then I whispered in his
ear.
 

But between us?
 
I

d
love to tend to it now.
 
If we
could, I

d
drop to my knees and take all of it.
 
And then I

d
let you take all of me.

 
 
 
 
 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

When I returned to Blackwell

s office, nearly
thirty minutes had passed and she was not to be had.
 
I looked around for Jennifer, but she
was nowhere to be found.
 
She
probably was at work.
 

So, it was just Blackwell and me.

Well, this will be interesting,
I
thought.


Sorry
that took so long,

I
said to her.


You

ve kept Bernie
waiting,

she
said as she got up from behind her desk.
 

And
that

s
something we don

t
do.
 
He

s a busy man.
 
He comes here because he adores me, and
because he

s
come to love Jennifer, who is never late

unlike you.
 
He knows that you and Jennifer are best
friends.
 
If you alienate him, don

t expect him to drop
everything and do you any favors.
 
The man is a sought-after genius

and you need a genius right now.


It

s just a contract
signing.
 
I don

t look that bad.


It

s not just a contract
signing.
 
Signing your contract will
take moments.
 
He

s here to style you
for your photo shoot.
 
And by the
way

what
in fresh hell are you wearing?
 
Where did you get that suit?
 
It

s
awful.
 
You look as if you stepped
out of a weekend flyer for K-Mart.


I do
not.


You
do.
 
And what

s up with the smell of
your hairspray?
 
It

s overpowering.
 
Risible.
 
You

ve turned yourself into a scratch-n-sniff homeless person
sticker.
 
And don

t argue with me.
 
Can I assume by your glow that
everything is fine between you and Tank?


It
is.


Well,
thank God for that

at
the very least, I

ll
be able to sleep tonight.

 
She took me by the arm.
 

Come with me.
 
Hair, makeup, clothes, contracts, and then the photo shoot.
 
In that order.
 
Your new life begins now.


Why
am I wishing that I was one of my zombies right now?


Perhaps
because they dress and smell better than you?

I decided not to respond to that
remark and instead just followed her out of her office, through the many people
zipping past us in the hallway, and into what looked like a conference room
that had been converted into some sort of makeup and changing room.
 
Although it was morning and the sun was
bright, the windows were blackened with dark shades and the lights were
dim.
 
When Blackwell closed the door
behind us, a man sitting across the room on a sofa stood to face us.


Good
morning,

he
said to me.


Good
morning.
 
I

m so sorry I

m late.


She
isn

t
at all sorry, Bernie.


That

s not true.
 
I am.
 
Today has been a lot to handle.


Stop
whinnying like a horse.
 
Bernie, you
remember this one.
 
It

s Lisa Ward, your new
ward, so to speak.

 
Her eyes widened, and then she
pressed her hand to her chest.
 

Look at me.
 
How clever.
 
I

ve rarely been so sharp or witty.
 
It

s a gift.
 
My
mother told me so when I was young.
 
It just funnels into me.
 
Don

t ask me to explain it

I
can

t.
 
It just happens.
 
It

s ethereal.

 
When neither Bernie nor I responded,
she rolled her eyes and said,

Are
we completely humorless today?
 
Apparently.
 
Lisa, you

ve met Bernie, who has
no last name.
 
That

s how good he is.
 
He

s just

Bernie.

 
Remember that.
 
That

s all you need to know.

I looked at the slim, stylish older
gentleman standing in front of me, and while I recognized him on sight, I wasn

t sure if he
remembered me when he styled Jennifer and me several weeks ago.
 

It

s
good to see you again,

I
said.


And
you, Lisa.
 
I remember that you
enjoy fashion.


I
do, not that I can afford it.
 
I
read all the magazines, though.
 
I

ve devoured them since
I was a teen.
 
I just can

t afford what

s in them.
 
I don

t have a lot of money.


Thus
her bad suit and split ends,

Blackwell
said.
 

Look at her.
 
She

s a train wreck going off the rails on cheap wheels.

 
I was about to speak when she added,

Although I do have to
admit that, unlike Jennifer, who prefers that hourglass figure of hers, Lisa is
a perfect size zero, Bernie.
 
I

ll give her that.

He kept his gaze on me.
 

I hear your fortunes are about to change today,

he
said as he took my hands in his.


I
guess so.


She
knows so,

Blackwell said.

Oh, how I wanted to smack her.
 
But I knew that most of this was just an
act of hers, so I swallowed my reply and instead admired the man in front of
me.
 
Thick, beautifully cut silver
hair.
 
Dressed completely in
black.
 
Gorgeous Dior boots.
 
Nothing out of place.
 
And he had a kind face.
 
He was smiling at me.
 

It

s
so nice to see you again,

I
said.


It

s always a pleasure,
Lisa,

he
said.
 
And then he shot Blackwell a
glance.
 

How long do we have?


Sixty
minutes.


Media?


Print
and electronic.


Style?


New,
savvy young author with an interesting, cutting edge.
 
I

m thinking we do something fresh with her eyes.
 
Something that says,

future.

 
Maybe her hair complements that.
 
Editorial, editorial, editorial.
 
I also want

obtainable

with a bit of the

unobtainable,

if that makes
sense.
 
I want young women to look
at her and say,

Look
how cool she is.
 
I want to look
like her.
 
She looks like the
future.
 
I
have
to read her
books so I can know more about her.
 
I can

t
get enough of her.

 
That sort of thing.
 
She

ll be wearing this.

 

Blackwell turned to a rack of clothes
behind her and removed a black shirtless tuxedo that I loved at once.
 
I

d seen versions of it in all the magazines and already had
an idea of how it would look on me.
 
It was chic and sophisticated, almost weightless, and there was a silky
black scarf that I

d
wear in a thick band around my neck with a large statement train of fabric
falling down my back.
 
Blackwell
held up glittering black Louboutins with a four-inch heel.
 
I put my hand over my heart when I saw
them.
 
If I could pull it off, the
outfit

and
whatever Bernie was about to do to me

it would help to give me the
self-confidence I wasn

t
feeling at that moment.
 
Clothes,
hair, and makeup could be game changers, so I was hoping that everything would
conspire to give me the shot of confidence I was going to need before that
photo shoot.

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