Reaching Lily. Vivacia Ahwen K

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Or been born to a more well-to-do family. Something told me Beatrice was a daddy’s girl, and, heck, I don’t even have a daddy. My fate was sealed while I was still in utero.

      ‘Thank you, Beatrice.’ Taking a brief glance around, I added, ‘Been a busy day, right?’

      ‘Not a problem.’ Her tone was icy. ‘Ms Dewitt.’

      It clearly was a problem. I wasn’t supposed to call her Beatrice without permission. ‘Thanks, anyway.’ I matched her voice. ‘Ms Collins.’

      ‘Mr Holder has been waiting for you.’ Beatrice Collins wrinkled her adorable nose, strutted back to her desk and pretended to shuffle papers. Without looking up again, she added, ‘For quite some time now.’

      ‘Got it. I apologised, remember?’

      Should I just be straight up and tell her I’m hardly a threat? I wondered. Anyway, Ms Thing sat back down at her desk and pushed a button. ‘Mr Holder? A Lily Dewitt is here for your meeting.’

      ‘A moment, Ms Collins.’ His deep voice was smooth even through an intercom.

      ‘Of course, sir.’ Beatrice Collins nodded at a row of severe-looking chairs lined up by a coffee table. ‘Feel free to sit.’

      ‘Thank you.’ I followed her directive, but added, ‘Freedom is a good thing.’

      No response. She began tapping away at her keyboard again, a shade too loud.

      Anyhow, the dullest-looking magazine collection a girl could ever ask for was fanned in a perfect semi-circle on the table. Money. Forbes. Wired. Sail. Oh, wait: National Geographic Travel. That would have to do. I flicked it open and escaped from reality, immersing myself in the Virgin Islands, almost smelling the salty air. Images of turquoise waters, colourful fish and coral reefs were most soothing to my frazzled countenance. Imagining a vacation someplace I will never afford, swimming in a warm ocean, soaking up the island breeze, was even better than picturing Dorian Holder, CEO naked, as in my mother’s advice about stagefright.

       Imagine he’s in his underwear.

      Come to think of it, picturing him this side of naked was probably not the best coping method. Not soothing, not at all.

      In fact, the coping method had somehow faded to a sexual fantasy and was causing wicked tingle-action. No fair. Maybe later, when hanging with my electronic companion before I fell asleep, that would be a soothing thing. Dorian Holder, boxer-briefs, black and white, Calvin Klein … For the record, Dorian Holder totally didn’t deserve to be thought about naked or thereabouts while I got off. Hopefully, I’d see some other, nicer, better hottie on the way home to star in my dreams. Yeah, right.

      So I stared at pictures of wise-looking sea turtles, mentally transporting myself to a land far, far away …

      ‘Ms Dewitt?’

      I gasped, dropping the magazine.

      No fair. You shouldn’t just sneak up on a girl like that, especially if you’re a guy who’s hot, interesting and a domineering asshole. Like, if you happen to get lucky enough to be born Dorian Holder, CEO. Or something.

      Flustered, I bent over, both to pick up the magazine and hide my burning cheeks at the same time. Of course I stood up just as he was crouching to assist me, and we unceremoniously banged heads.

      ‘Jesus.’ He slapped a palm against his forehead, winced, then rubbed hard and fast. ‘That kind of hurt, Dewitt.’

      ‘I am so s-s-sorry, Mr Holder!’ I stammered, and instinctively reached out to him.

      Just as instinctively, he pulled back.

      Oops. I set the offending Geographic back on the table, wishing for the second time in five minutes that I could disappear. Oh, and he called me Dewitt. How horrible. No Ms, no Lily, just …

      ‘You OK?’ he asked, but his politeness was strained. That bump stung his head more than a little. Well, guess what? The product in his hair maybe hurt mine. So there.

      ‘As much as a girl in my shoes could be.’

      ‘Your shoes, yes, of course. Come in.’

      We stood, looked at each other evenly, looked at silent Beatrice Collins even more evenly, and he opened his office door. It was an even deeper shade of green than his Bangy’s foyer. I followed him into the Emerald City. This would be the part at BC where we’d turn on Pink Floyd, smoke pot and play that ‘Dark Side of the Oz’ game.

      ‘Welcome,’ said Dorian Holder, gesturing to the black leather couch across from his ostentatious desk, against which he leaned. Mr Holder’s body language was both graceful and elegant, the liquid movements of his large frame unexpected and most appealing.

      We stared at each other. I knew this trick – or I’d read about it, anyway – and refused to break the silence. Whoever speaks first loses the power play. So I shifted my gaze upward, as gazing into his titian eyes was unnerving, to say the least. They tell you to never look into an eclipse of the sun, and that moment was the second time I thought of it when peering at Dorian Holder.

       You’ll go blind.

      Don’t stare at a golden compass.

       You’ll get hypnotised.

      Perhaps that was when it first became clear to me that Dorian Holder was more than a man. He had a certain magic, a power greater than his obvious advantages over the Troy Matthewses of the world. He could make anyone’s head spin, should he wish, not just because of his notable beauty, his powerful position as one of the wealthiest men in America or his casual intelligence. No, Dorian was the master of his domain, and could become the master of anyone else’s domain as well. I was no match for him.

      To distract myself from the thickness in the air, I checked out the office in a manner I hoped was subtle. There was one detail it was impossible to tear my eyes away from. Near the top of each wall was a narrow shelf with a miniature train track on it. No joke. And there was a very long train directly over his desk. Though I was dying to ask about it, I’d just have to wait.

      Thirty seconds passed. And yes, I was totally doing the ‘one-Massachusetts, two-Massachusetts, three-Massachusetts’ count to time it.

      I had never realised how long the word ‘Massachusetts’ is.

      Crickets.

      So I waited, and peeked back at Dorian Holder. One corner of his mouth was curved into a half-smile, in fact he looked as though he were about to laugh. At me? Again, I looked back up at the Lionel train, and began to count cars.

      The CEO of Apollyon’s model train set is composed of 32 cars, if you include the locomotive and caboose. Just sayin’.

      ‘You win,’ I said, at last.

      ‘Of course I do.’ He beamed. ‘Holders always win.’

      ‘Should I “feel free” to sit?’

      ‘Please do.’

      The СКАЧАТЬ