RISK (5 page)

Nolan

"It's not her." Crew drops a piece of paper on my desk. "I'm telling you that Ellie is not the little redhead. She's not."

I look down at the paper. It's a copy of Ellie's transcript from Mercy College. Elinor Beth Madden is her full name. She graduated at the top of her class.

It's just another piece of the puzzle I've been trying to put together for the past week.

After she had stolen my watch right under my nose, I gave her the job. She was so excited she almost hugged me. Almost. I wanted her to. I'm all for celebrating in whatever way a stunning woman desires. A hug is a decent place to start.

There were no hugs that night, though. There was nothing other than an hour inside Shade with Crew. I bailed and went up to my suite. I spent the majority of that night, and every night since, researching Ellie Madden. I even had one of my personal security guys run a background check on her.

Everything she told us checked out including the award the Mayor gave her for taking down an armed robber in a pharmacy in Queens. After the madman had fired a shot into the ceiling when his demands for cash and prescription drugs weren't met, he pointed the gun at a woman holding a crying baby. Ellie stepped in the line of fire, and when he pressed the trigger to silence the infant, it was Ellie who got hit.

Thank Christ he was high and a bad shot because she could have lost her life.

Although the bullet grazed her thigh, she didn't step down. She waited until the asshole had what he wanted in his pocket and when he tucked the gun into the waistband at the back of his jeans, she pushed him face first into a display shelf. It gave the police, standing at the ready outside the pharmacy, the slim opportunity they needed to rush in. The man was apprehended without anyone else being hurt.

That wasn't the only time she's risked her life helping others. She stepped in the middle of a purse snatching in Central Park more than a year ago. The mugger was threatening his victim with the jagged edges of a broken wine bottle.

According to an archived article from The Post that I found online, Ellie ran at him full force from the side, taking him to the ground. The impact knocked the bottle from his grasp. She declined to give many details when a reporter who happened to be jogging through the park tried to interview her, only stating her name as Ellie. She was quoted as saying, '
she did what anyone in her position would do
.'

She's wrong. Many people who stumbled on the mugging would have gotten the hell out of there, afraid to get involved.

In the grainy picture published with the article, Ellie is standing next to a gray-haired woman who has her face buried in her hands. Ellie's arm is draped around her shoulder in comfort, concern blanketing her expression.

The woman is a real life crime fighting crusader who somehow ended up working in a casino in Vegas for minimum wage. It makes no fucking sense.

"You looked in her eyes, Crew." I toss the paper aside. "You can't tell me that you don't see what I do. The same sadness is there."

"We've all got some sadness inside of us." He takes a seat in one of the two chairs that face my desk. "There's no way in hell that Ellie is the girl we used to know. Kip was quiet as a mouse. She didn't say more than a few words to us in total the entire time we knew her. Ellie is a force of nature. They're polar opposites."

He's right. Kip, a girl we knew for a sum total of two months when we were teenagers, rarely said anything. She wore a patterned scarf around her neck to ward off the winter winds. She'd pull it up and over her lips, holding it there whenever she spoke, muffling the sound of her voice. She was so shy that she kept her eyes cast to the ground most of the time. It's hard to imagine anyone climbing out of a shell that contained to transform into someone like Ellie.

"They look alike." I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "I know I say that every fucking time I see a gorgeous woman with red hair and blue eyes, but I see Kip in Ellie."

"You want to see Kip in Ellie," he corrects me with a rap of his fingers on the edge of my desk. "I've had your back on this fascination you've had with Kip for years, pal. I know you said that some crazy shit went down the last time you saw her, but it would make life so much easier if you would just ask Ellie if she's Kip. It's a simple question. She'll answer and we can put this to bed."

Crazy shit doesn't even begin to describe what transpired that night. Crew may be like a brother to me, but he'll never know what happened between Kip and I the last time I saw her. That's a secret I'll take to my grave.

"It's not that simple." I rake both my hands through my hair. "I can't just walk up and ask her. You can't either. You gave me your word that you'd never ask a woman if she's Kip. I don't think Kip could handle seeing me again. It would flood her with memories of that night."

"Look, Nolan." His voice takes on an even tone. "The way I see it is that whatever happened between you two is in the past. If it's so fucked up that you can't even tell me, you need to drop it. Kip's living her life somewhere and you're living your life here. It's all good in the end, right?"

I hope so. I fucking hope that Kip's living the life she always wanted and that the last night we ever saw each other is just a distant memory to her now.

***

"You have a two o'clock with Brenda in merchandising and then a four o'clock with Old McDonald at his farm."

I chuckle before I look up at my assistant. "Eda, you're a sweetheart. I've told you that today, haven't I?"

"Not yet today, Mr. Black." She shakes her head. The motion causes her glasses to slip down her nose. With one nudge from her index finger, they're back where they belong. "The only compliment you gave me today was this morning when you said I have the legs of a woman half my age."

I straighten my back so I can peer over my desk at her legs. Despite the scorching temperature outside, she's wearing a pair of sheer black hose. "Some women might not take that as a compliment, but you know your legs put every one of the Rockettes to shame."

She giggles. "If a man tells you that your sixty-year-old legs look like they're thirty, you take it as a compliment. Plain and simple."

That's how I'd describe Eda. Plain and simple. The only caveat is that it's those qualities that make her a timeless beauty. She doesn't spend half her day rushing to the ladies' room to check her makeup. Her wardrobe is modest and comfortable, right down to the black loafers she wears.

The woman is more valuable to me than my right hand which is the main reason she's still working for me. She's tried to retire, twice, but I derailed that with a hefty pay raise each time along with a shorter workday. I'll take as much of Eda as I can get.

"Is my date for my four o'clock meeting me here or do I need to swing by her place and pick her up?"

She smiles, her brown eyes widening. "I knew you'd be pressed for time, sir, so I arranged for her to meet you here. I do so love any chance I get to see her. You know that."

"I'll be back here by three thirty." I glance down at my watch. It's the same one Ellie silently stole from my wrist. I've worn it every day since. Her masterful light touch combined with the way she looked at me was enough to put me under her spell. She'd effortlessly robbed me of one of my prized possessions and it only made me crave her more.

Since I left Las Vegas and returned to New York, I've tried to convince myself that my interest in Ellie is solely based on her resemblance to Kip, but my cock, that traitorous bastard knows the truth. I've jacked off twice in the shower to the images stored in my memory of Ellie.

I've come thinking about the fullness of her breasts and the feeling of her ass as she sat on my lap. The dress she was wearing that night fit her like a goddamn second skin. She's petite, yet strong. The nip of her waist leads down to curvy hips. All that softness and strength coiled into one body is the perfect combination for the kind of mind-blowing sex that makes a man forget his own name.

Eda clears her throat. "Mr. Black? Are you still with me?"

I shake my head to chase away thoughts of Ellie Madden and her sweet ass.

When the hell did I revert to a teenager with a perpetual hard-on?

"Yes," I say as I try to will my dick to calm the fuck down. "I have a two o'clock with Belinda and I'm meeting Ronald McDonald for dinner."

"Close enough," she says with a half-shrug. "Whatever you're thinking about, keep it up, sir. You have a sparkle in your eye I've never seen before."

Ellie

"Hay," I say peering up at him.

"Hey, Ellie." A slow grin slides over his lips. 

I resist the urge to reach up and touch him. I want to, for the one obvious reason and all the other reasons that are tied to the fact that he's so good-looking. Nolan Black is at least six foot two, and he has to be near two hundred pounds. He's muscular, solid and right now, with the hint of a late day shadow over his jaw and his hair a mess, he looks ready for bed in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.

"I meant hay as in hay," I correct him with a nod to his shoulder. He's dressed in a black suit with a blue shirt, open at the collar. I doubt there's anything he could wear that wouldn't look ridiculously good on him.

"Hey as in hey, how are you, Nolan?"

I tap my index finger over my bottom lip. "No. Hay as in you have a piece of hay on your shoulder."

He glances at his right shoulder where a single piece of golden hay is clinging to his suit jacket. Instead of reaching up to remove it, he turns back to me. "Tell me about your first day on the job."

I stare at the piece of hay, intent on finding out how it got there. This is Manhattan. The man works in an office in the tower above this store. There isn't a bale of hay for miles. "How did that hay get on your jacket?"

"I suspect it was the goat."

"The goat?" I make a frustrated sound. "What goat?"

"We didn't exchange names when we met. It might have been Billy. That's a fairly common name among goats, is it not?"

I furrow my brow. "I've never met a goat."
              "Consider yourself lucky." He glances at the hay again before he turns his attention back to me. "Your shift ended an hour ago. I didn't expect to find you here."

My mind is spinning, but I lurch it to a stop with a deep breath. "The store closes in less than two hours. I stayed to observe the procedure you have in place for that."

"I'm impressed." He scans the area behind me. It's as busy as it was when I first arrived this morning. All day there has been a steady stream of customers, both women and men, filling the large space.

Some people come to Matiz with a determined mission in mind. They know which products they want, so they immediately approach one of the four sales associates who are on the floor at any given time.

Others wander in from the street. The bait that lures them is either the large sign in the front window that promises a free makeover or one of the many ads they've seen online that offers an initial discount of anywhere from five to ten percent.

Some leave with nothing in their hands, but most walk away with a Matiz shopping bag and every intention of returning.

Every staff member in the store including the professional makeup artist, who arranges and personally handles the makeovers, is cordial, kind and incredibly generous with their time.

"Did your uniforms not arrive at your apartment?" His gaze rakes me from my head down.

"They did." I feel my cheeks flush. I chose a simple white sheath dress and nude heels for my first day. The dress is fitted enough that it draws just the right amount of male attention without sending the wrong message.

"Is there a reason you're not dressed in the outfit you're contractually required to wear?"

"When someone enters a retail store with the intent to steal, the first thing they do is identify the security staff and where all the cameras are located." I move to stand beside him so I can survey the store from the same viewpoint he is. "Your security guards are all dressed in black. They wear identical black button up shirts and slacks. When you add an earpiece, it makes it very obvious that if you want to steal something, they are the people to avoid."

"Go on."

I feel his eyes on me. I continue, not wanting to get derailed when I'm trying to convey a message that could potentially save his company millions of dollars in lost revenue. "The surveillance cameras installed in here aren't state of the art. It's a common misconception that if you have cameras in full view that thieves will think twice before pocketing something. That's not necessarily true."

"The security consultant we hired before we opened this location would disagree with you." His breath brushes over my cheek.

I swallow hard. "I'd argue the point with them and I'd win."

I look up at him. He's completely in control. His eyes are focused intently on my face. The man is so breathtakingly gorgeous that he must stop traffic. The more I look at him, the more I understand Shelby's desperation at the restaurant in Vegas when he made it clear they were over.

She had him inside her. She knows the sounds he makes when he nears his release and the smell of the sweat on his skin when he's satiated and his eyes are closing in search of his next breath. It's that one breath that will fill his lungs again after he's used his chiseled body to bring me the most decadent pleasure I've ever felt.

Shelby. I meant Shelby. For fuck's sake. I meant me. I totally meant me. I want it to be me.

"I'll have my assistant set up a time for you to come to my office to further discuss your concerns." He contemplates me. "Are you free tonight?"

"To come to your office?" I question with a quirk of my brow. I'm already working late. I'm not sure I want to dedicate even more time to this job on my very first day.

"No." His gaze follows the curve of my shoulder, up my neck and to my lips. "To meet me for a drink."

"A drink?"

"Alcoholic, preferably." His eyes meet mine. "Consider it celebratory. Let's toast to your new position."

The only new position I can focus on is the one where my back is against the wall; my legs wrapped around him and he's pumping his enormous cock into me, splitting me in two in the most delicious way imaginable. I've sat on it. I know he's got something sizable to work with.

I study his face. There's victory already dancing in his eyes as his lips curve into a smug smile. He's absolutely certain I'll say
yes
because I doubt any woman has ever said
no
to him.

"I have plans tonight." My words are quiet and surprise even me. I'm supposed to share a bottle of wine with Adley at the bar by our apartment once I leave here. We're going to celebrate the fact that I'm her new roommate. "I'm already meeting someone for a drink."

He takes a step back. The assumption that it's a man is written all over his face. There's a sudden dark intensity in his eyes. His smile has disappeared, replaced by a strict set of his jaw.

"Understood," he says quickly before backing away. His fingers finally brush the lone piece of hay from his shoulder.  It falls to the polished wood floor as he turns abruptly. A few heavy steps of his feet close the distance between me and the glass door and with a push of his hand, he's out of the store and immersed in the pedestrian traffic of Fifth Avenue.

He's wrong. He doesn't understand. I don't completely either. I just know that the last time I saw that level of triumph in a man's eyes when he asked me out, saying
yes
to him was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.