Page 91 of Delicious Surrender

Game, Set, Match

Logan, boy-toy with a tool belt, showed up Wednesday as scheduled and started the demolition of her little money pit. He flirted with her whenever she came downstairs. While eating his lunch at her kitchen table, he asked if she was ready to go out with him.

“Not yet,” she replied with pursed lips.

He countered, “When you fall off a horse, it’s crucial to get right back on.”

The next day, as he was preparing to leave, he tried again. “Everyone needs a transitional fling to help them get over the end of a bad relationship.”

She laughed at his suggestion. “If I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

Maybe she should give Logan a chance…if she could onlystop thinking about Gage’s commanding green eyes and the power they had over her. Despite everything, she still found him irresistible.

Realization struck—he still had her vibrator! She had half a mind to write and demand that he send it back, or at least reimburse her. The moment he fired her, that stupid requirement of no masturbation without permission went out the window.

There were notoyshops nearby, so she had to search for a replacement online. That shopping expedition led her down the rabbit hole of toys, bondage gear, and x-rated videos. It was his fault that dark and deviant thoughts plagued her. She had to figure out how to banish them—and him—forever.

Since the whole first floor was a disaster, Brynne spent her days in the window seat of the master bedroom with her laptop. Logan diverted the water so she could bathe upstairs, but her kitchen and all taps on the main floor were out of commission. Repairs would take weeks. Thank god for Declan, who let her bring her laundry to the hotel and invited her to take meals home from his kitchen. He was her knight in shining armor, just like he’d been for Josie.

Sunday night, she found it impossible to sleep, worrying about the meeting. MacCallum and his team would be there at two o’clock. Brynne struggled to zip up the only dress she brought and groaned at her reflection. The simple black sheath was ridiculously tight. She’d always had curves, but her weakness for Scottish pastries and other rich carbs from the restaurant had taken their toll. She was stuck unless she found something in her aunt’s closet.

A thorough search confirmed Josie’s clothes were too big,unless she kept up her unhealthy habits. On the bright side, she found fabulous accessories to enhance the outfit. Josie had expensive taste—and the Hermès scarf and Yves Saint Laurent clutch turned her ensemble from a mediocre to a wow. She took special care with her makeup and hair, and a pair of patent knee-high boots completed the ensemble. With little time to spare, she raced to town in the MGB praying the seams of the dress would hold up.

Brynne’s confidence faltered when she walked up to Alistair’s office and saw three fancy cars lined up out front. Few people in Skye drove these kinds of posh cars, so she knew they belonged to MacCallum’s well-paid legal team. A silver Range Rover, a black Mercedes, and a sporty blue BMW gleamed like they had just come out of the showroom.Whatever. They will not intimidate me.

Taking a deep breath, Brynne walked in. She could hear muffled voices coming from the boardroom and was glad Alistair was right there to greet her.

He grabbed her hands in his. “Brynne, you look lovely.”

“Thank you, Alistair. I wanted to look unruffled, no matter how I feel on the inside.”

“Well, you succeeded. Listen, there are three young lawyers withMacCallum. He arrived a couple of minutes before you. I will go in now. Take a minute, then make your entrance. You’re sitting at the head of the table. He is at the other end.”

“You’re brilliant. I like knowing the layout and where I’m sitting. I’m going to freshen up, and I’ll be right in.”

In the small bathroom, she stood with her hands on herhips and spread her legs as far as the slit in the dress would allow, and she prayed.

“You’ve got this, Brynne. Auntie Josie—I am calling on you to be with me. I will not show weakness. I will face this entitled dickwad and will not let him push me around.”

A little touch-up of her plum lipstick and she was ready. She swung open the door to the boardroom and stopped dead in her tracks. All five of the men stood and their eyes turned toward her, but she only noticed one pair. Her legs froze and her heart started stuttering. It was as if time stood still. She and the man at the end of the table spoke in unison.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

His lawyers looked disconcerted and unsure what to do. The young man closest to where she stood pulled out the chair for her. She ignored him and turned to look at Alistair. He’d leaped forward as if preparing to catch her if she fainted. To him alone, she whispered, “I don’t understand.”

Before he could respond, Gage spoke.

“Your aunt was Josephine Lamond?”

From somewhere within, she found her footing. She turned scathing eyes on him. “No shit, Sherlock.” A million questions swirled in her brain, but she couldn’t put them together.

Fury blazed from his eyes, and she wondered if his teeth would shatter from how hard he was gritting them. She seized the pregnant pause. “I guess you didn’t read the two hundred pages your crack legal team provided, Mr. MacCallum.” Her voice dripped with so much venom, one of the young lawyers audibly gulped. They looked like college boys dressed up in theirSunday finest. “Is Gage your stage name for the devious games you play in London?”

His upper lip curled in contempt. “It’s a shame, but I have to protect my identity from bad actors like you, Miss Larimore.”

Alistair touched her arm and looked on worriedly, urging her to take her seat. He must think she was going to tip over. Once the adrenaline stopped coursing through her veins, she just might.

Gage continued to stare at her, then finally spoke. “I’d like a moment alone with Miss Larimore.”

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