Page 11 of Pleasure Payback

Long masculine fingers drummed on the table for a moment before he replied, ‘As it’s been since the beginning, only the senior producer knows what the candidates will pitch. They’re picked based on a module that matches our business needs with the candidates. Otherwise we’d all be wasting our time. If I wanted to attach my name to a fixed, mindless reality TV show, I wouldn’t be on this project.’

I raised my eyebrow. ‘So that’s a definite no, then?’ I goaded.

A tight smile flickered over his lips before he angled his chair away from me. ‘If there are no more questions, I’ll let the producers know we’re good to go.’

Satisfied I’d made my point, I closed my folder and stood.

‘A word please, Miss Nolan?’

Although framed like a question, one look at his taut face said it wasn’t. He couldn’t have stopped me from leaving, of course, but I was intrigued by what he had to say. More than I suspected was wise.

The others trickled out, and immediately the atmosphere thickened. Or it could’ve just been my inability to take a full breath around this man. Irritation ramped up. ‘I have somewhere else to be, Mr Mortimer.’

He nodded briskly. ‘I won’t keep you long. Please sit. And it’s Damian, as you well know.’

I raised a surprised brow as I retook my seat. ‘Twopleasesin one minute. That must be a record for you.’

Several seconds ticked by as he eyed me. ‘Are we going to have a problem, Neve?’

A hot little fizzle lit up my midriff when he said my name—soft, sexy, dangerous, much like the way he had that night. I actively ignored it.

‘You tell me. There’s nothing in the contract that stipulates one member of the panel isn’t allowed to fuck another. And despite all the professional vibes you’ve been attempting to throw out, I can tell you’re a little...affected. So maybe you should be asking yourself that question?’

He cursed under his breath. ‘You go straight for the jugular, don’t you?’

‘I’m just stating facts.’

Firm lips pursed as a muscle ticced in his temple. ‘Did you read the email my assistant sent?’

The question threw me for a second. I rallied quickly. ‘What does it matter?’

‘If you had, you’d have seen that I was late because I was dealing with a personal matter. One that went on longer than I anticipated. I detest being late but it couldn’t be helped. You have my word it won’t happen again.’

The unfettered admission threatened to dissolve my anger, much as I’d let the bleakness in his expression sway me two years ago. But the simple truth was Damian Mortimer believed himself above the rules that governed mere humans. So what if he admitted to a single flaw? He had more damning ones lodged in his soul. Ones he probably didn’t think he needed to answer for. ‘If that’s supposed to be an apology for your tardiness, I accept.’

‘Doesn’t answer my question though. This is my last appearance on this show. I want things to go smoothly. So again, are we going to have a problem?’

‘With my participation in this show? Not a one,’ I replied.

‘Why do I sense you’re playing semantics with me?’

‘You have a terrible imagination?’ Or a much-needed prickle of a guilty conscience?

His eyes narrowed. ‘You seem...different. Were you this distrusting of everyone two years ago or have I done something in particular to earn yours?’ he enquired tersely.

Hell, no, he wasn’t going to do this. ‘Are you serious?’

‘When it comes to business I’m nothing but. But if I recall our one and only encounter was less business, more...something else?’

Something else.Something that didn’t even warrant its proper definition in his book?

Sex. Filthy, sheet-clawing, scream-yourself-hoarse fucking.

I searched his face for acknowledgement of what had been a highly memorable encounter for me in more ways than one. All I got was the apathetic stare of a bored business mogul.

Had I beenthatforgettable?

It stung. And in that burn my resolve to make him pay solidified.

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