Page 38 of Duplicity

Brendan ignores her. He ignores both of them, in fact, making a beeline for me. ‘Fucking hell. Look at you.’ He gives a low whistle.

‘Hi,’ I say. I sound so blooming shy I could slap myself, but come on. He’s looking at me like that, and I haven’t seen him since we got naked, and there are two scary women judging my every move. I’m hardly in the right frame of mind to channel my (non-existent) cool inner goddess.

I’m preparing for, I don’t know, a cheek kiss or something, but he slides an arm around my hip and pulls me to him. His hand finds my very fancy Dior-covered bottom and gropes it as he dips his dark head and kisses me hello.

It isnota cheek kiss.

It’s a familiar,you left my bed a few short hours agokiss on the lips, and it’s leisurely and entitled and contains the slightest glimpse of tongue, and I’m so taken aback by the shocking hotness of it that I freeze.

He releases my mouth and slaps me on the bottom. ‘This is a great colour on you. How’s it going? Sorry I’m late, love.’

I’m not the only woman who froze at the Brendan Sullivan Effect. Fiona and Terri have been stuck to the spot, silently gaping since he barged in here and kissed me.

Perhaps all the blood in their brains has flooded south.

I know mine has.

Fiona finally speaks up. ‘You’re not…’ She clears her throat. ‘I’m sorry. I thought she was your employee.’

‘It’s Ms Winters to you, and she’s my girlfriendandmy newest employee.’ He narrows his eyes at me. ‘You didn’t tell them, love?’

‘I—um—it didn’t come up,’ I stammer.

‘No harm done. So, how are you getting on?’

‘This is the first dress, Mr Sullivan,’ Terri pipes up. ‘And we think she—ahh—Ms Winters looks fantastic in it.’

Fantastic. Not an opinion either of them have volunteered before now.

‘Great.’ Brendan nods brusquely. ‘We’ll take it.’ He may want to dress his little fuck-doll up, but I can’t imagine the actual process of shopping is any fun for him at all. Nor is it a good use of his time, I imagine.

He holds me by the forearms and pushes me towards the changing area before pulling the curtain shut around us. ‘I’ll help her get changed. Give us the next one, please.’

‘It’s three grand,’ I hiss as he turns me around so he can unzip the dress.

‘Don’t care. Worth every penny. Just don’t come near me when I’m drinking coffee or eating chocolate. I’m a clumsy bastard, and you’—he pulls the zip open with great relish and far too little concern for the dress itself—‘are ravishing.’

He pushes the dress off my shoulders, exposing me down to my waist, and our eyes meet in the mirror. He licks his lips. ‘Nice to see you again,’ he whispers. He brushes his fingertips lightly down my upper arms, and I shiver. ‘Welcome to Sullivan Construction, Ms Winters.’

Brendan threads his hands between my body and my arms, those same fingertips gliding over my ribs, his blue eyes holding my gaze in the mirror. Fiona and Terri are right on the other side of the curtain, and this is really inappropriate, and I can’t look away from him. Can’t look away from the sheer size of him behind me, from the way he’s checking me out so proprietarily. He brings his hands up to cup my bra and stops.

‘What the fuck are these?’

Oh shit. The fillets. ‘I, um—they said I needed them to fill out the dress. Something about the line?’ I whisper, my eyes darting nervously between the reflection of my boobs and that of the outrage on his face.

‘Like fuck you do.’ He sticks a hand down the front of my bra, his warm skin grazing my nipple, and yanks the silicone thingy out. He does the same with the other, then rips the curtain aside enough to step out.

‘Don’t you fucking tell her she needs these to look good in a dress,’ he shouts at the sales assistants. I hear one wet slap as a fillet presumably lands on the glass coffee table, then another. ‘Her figure is fucking perfect, and you know it. If you can’t stick to your job, which is picking out clothes and handing them to us, then you can get out and leave us to it. Do I make myself clear?’

Bloody hell, he’s got a temper. I press my lips together to hold in my shocked laughter as they stammer out their apologies.

‘Give me that,’ he spits. A moment later, he reappears in the changing area holding a dove-grey silk dress that looks even more high-maintenance than the white one and a matching grey lace lingerie set so exquisite I’d rather frame it than wear it. He gives me a cheeky wink, and I allow myself a silent giggle.

‘Let me help you with this, madam,’ he murmurs, hanging the lingerie and dress on the hook before unzipping me the rest of the way. The silk lining of the dress slithers sensually over my hips before falling to the floor and pooling around my heels, leaving me in just my underwear.

I may have been naked with the guy a couple of weeks ago, but it’s mid-morning on a Monday, and standing here like this for him while he openly checks me out feels as confronting as it does salacious.

‘Part one of youronboardingprocess,’ he whispers, his emphasis making the term sound filthy. He finds the hooks of my cheap bra and slides it down my arms. My nipples have hardened—they’re no more immune to Brendan’s charms than the rest of me—and believe me, he’s noticed.

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