Page 4 of Dirty Arrangement

Shrugging, I carry the drinks to the other side of the desk. Thomas takes his mug, gesturing to the pink box as he sips. “This is what you thought I'd like.”

“I tried to give a little variety since I don't know your personal favorites.”

Thomas levels a look at me, his eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes. “The things I like to eat aren't in this box, Alice.”

Frustrated, I huff, “You might like them, you won't know until you try!”

His chuckle is insulting. “Is that how you live your life, believing you should try everything to see if you like it?”

I open my mouth, then shut it. What the hell is he talking about? “I don't know. I guess so?” Without waiting for his permission, I sit in one of the plush chairs. When I push my hair behind my ears nervously, it thrusts my chest out. Thomas's eyes move there—a fast motion, but I see it.

Well, well.Maybe I'd been convincing myself that all the intense stares were meant to intimidate me. Did Thomas actually feel the same pull towards me that I did to him?

Tapping my toe anxiously, I grip my coffee mug and take a long, slow sip. When I'm done, I sigh. The sound comes out close to a moan. Thomas's eyes flash—I blush furiously.Are you flirting or doing impressions of a bad porno? Get it together, Alice,I think angrily.

Thomas braces his hands on his desk, studying me with sudden interest. “Alice,” he starts carefully, “you're not here to prove me wrong about your baking. You're worried about your career. Your future.”

His bluntness takes the wind out of me. Setting my mug down, I narrow my eyes. “Of course I'm worried. I don't want to lose the bakery I love.”

“Then let's make a deal.” He shuts the box of pastries, sliding them towards me. “If all you want is your job, you can have it.” I start grinning wide as the moon, but he isn't done. “There will be some conditions.”

“Like what?” I ask warily.

Thomas strolls around the desk until he's behind me. “I'll become your boss, Alice. That means whatever I say goes.”

Twisting to make sure I can see him, I wrinkle my nose. “Isn't that normally how employees behave with their bosses?”

His tone shifts, almost imperceptibly, becoming hot smoke and honey. “You're notjustmy employee, oh no.” He's watching me intently. I have the sensation of being trapped and I don't know why it's so exciting.

Calm down,I instruct myself.You were flirting with him to save your bakery! You don't actually like him. He's not your type!I'd always dated bland, safe men before. There was something about Thomas, something so intriguing and dangerous, that when combined with his handsome features, I was finding myself drawn into his sensual vibe. I've never had someone so commanding, so domineering, in arms reach.

His hands move down; I inhale sharply, audibly, when he clutches the chair on either side of my shoulders. He's so near I can smell his scent. Unlike the coffee-citrus of the room, he's musky. It reminds me of rosemary and olive soaked bread.

“You're going to bewhateverI want, Alice,” he whispers. “Think about what I am saying, and decide if your other options are better. You can lose your bakery, watch it be torn to shreds and sold for scrap.” He tilts his head, dark hair glinting in the sunlight that streams through the wide window. “Or you can agree to do whatever I ask.”

I forgot to breathe. I was focusing on his moving lips, the angle of his grin, those pearly teeth. When I find my voice, it's hushed. “If I agree to this, how far will it go? What if I... What if it's too much, what you're asking?”

“Oh, Alice.” His chuckle is black as poison, but his voice is oh so sweet. “Didn't you advocate trying things before deciding you don't like them?”

My fingers knot up on my thighs, knuckles white as bone. Is he serious or is this a joke? I'm unsure, but far too tempted by what he's suggesting to back out. Idowant my job. That's why I'm here. Was I ready to do anything to get my way?

Thomas has a charm that's hard to deny.

What could he ask me to do that I might rebel against?

“Alright,” I say softly. “I'll... I'll do it.”

He leans away, graceful as a dancer as he slips behind the desk. Removing some forms from a drawer, he slides them my way along with a fancy pen. “Look over that contract, then sign it if you really agree. Think about this carefully, Alice.” His tone is deeper than the core of the earth. “This is no game.”

My fingers hover over the papers before I slide them close. I flip through them; it's all legalize, tiny print I can barely make sense of. A few minutes of browsing and I can tell it's a water-tight contract that states I can be terminated by Mr. Volt at any time, and in doing so I'll lose my job, benefits, then something about restitution.

Bracing myself, I scribble my name. I can't find a reasonnotto sign.

What could matter more than keeping my bakery?

Thomas pulls the forms away, signing them himself before ducking the papers out of sight. “Good, now that that's settled, let's discuss the rules of your position under me.” The way he phrases that makes me shift in my chair. He lifts a hand, counting off on each finger. “One, you will always call me Mr. Volt, or you will call me Sir. Nothing less than those.” His look is pointed.

Unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I say, “Yes, Mr. Volt.” I can't imagine the humiliation of calling himSir.

---