The Businessman's Tie (The Power to Please, Book 1) by Deena Ward Page B

much,” was his only reply.
    Well, I thought, that was reassuring, though why it was
reassuring, I wasn’t sure. Because he didn’t think I was a slut? No, I didn’t
think that was it. Besides, for all I knew, he might prefer slutty women.
    We rode in silence for a minute or two. I wondered why I
thought about being a slut, and how closed-minded that made me feel of a
sudden.
    “Has Weston made you an offer of training?” he asked.
    And the surprises just kept coming. “Kind of, yes. I guess.
I don’t see how you could know that. Have you got me bugged or something?”
    That earned a smile from him. “No. It’s only that you’re an
attractive young woman. There’s something of a ... a promise in you. Weston
would see that, too. So of course he made you an offer. Have you accepted?”
    “No. He asked me to think about it.”
    Was that a twitch of a muscle in The Businessman’s strong
jawline? Impossible.
    “I don’t like to speak poorly of others, but I want to give
you something of a warning about him. If you accept his offer, be careful,” he
said.
    “Be careful. What do you mean?”
    “Guard yourself. Protect your interests. It’s not my place
to say more. However, you might consider asking others about him and his
history. That’s up to you.”
    It wasn’t much of an answer. Its clarity ranked up there
with what Michael had said about him, that he was unfeeling to the women under
his care.
    “Michael told me a rumor about you,” I said.
    “Did he?” His tone was bland, unconcerned. “You don’t need
to share it with me. I’m sure that whatever he told you, it’s not flattering.”
    It wasn’t necessary to tell him he was correct. The way he
spoke of Michael, I had to believe that Michael had understated the level of
their acquaintance.
     “Before you make a decision about Weston’s offer, I’d like
to meet with you, privately, intimately,” The Businessman said.
    I stared at him.
    He continued. “I might have a counteroffer, so to speak, for
you.”
    My stomach muscles tightened of their own will, and my mouth
went dry. I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded a tell-me-more nod.
    “A few hours, Monday evening,” he said.
    I nodded again.
    The car pulled to a stop. We had arrived at the bar. That
was fast, I thought. Everything was fast these days.
    “So, will you meet with me, Monday evening?” he asked.
    “Yes,” I answered, then blinked. The answer had flown out of
my mouth without any true consideration on my part. No chance to take it back.
    He asked me what time I got off work on Monday, then told me
to leave work and go straight to the Frederick Hotel. I assured him I knew the
location of the Frederick.
    He told me to give my name at the front desk and I would be
shown to my room. I was not to tip anyone; he would take care of that. I didn’t
need to bring anything, either. He would provide everything I might need.
    He then said he might be a little late, depending on a
meeting he had to attend, but that I should be confident he would be there as
soon as he could.
    Before I got out of the car, he joked about the ride being
so short he doubted he’d saved me much money. Then he gave me one of his chaste
goodbye kisses, on my cheek this time.
    But his final words weren’t polite.
    He looked at me, straight and even, his voice deep and low.
“You smell of him. I don’t like it.”
    Then I was climbing out of his car, almost as if he
psychically willed me onto the street. And I was walking to my car, getting in
and starting the engine. I noticed that The Businessman didn’t leave until I
pulled away down the street.
    I drove home wondering about him and how easily I fell in
line with his wishes. I hadn’t even seriously considered declining his
invitation of a ride, nor his invitation to meet with him again.
    Maybe, some time before I went to the bar the night of my
divorce celebration, someone had nabbed me and hypnotized me, then told me to
go out and have kinky