My stomach clenched at the thought.
But Isadora wasn’t in the sitting parlor where she preferred to spend much of her time.
Toni was, though.
Toni was stretched out on one of the long, low couches and she looked completely bitable.
Standing in the shadows of the hall, I watched as she got up, frowned at a note she had on a pad of paper, and then tossed it down before she walked over to a bag and bent down. The narrow black skirt she wore pulled tight over her ass and again, the image from the other night at the club slammed into me.
Pushing that skirt up over her hips.
Dragging down her panties.
Wrapping that hair around my fist and holding her steady as I forced her to take my cock. I’d get her wet, so wet, and so ready –
She jerked upright and turned around, her eyes unerringly seeking me out.
I didn’t realize it, but I’d moved forward until I stood in the doorway.
Her eyes met mine and I saw something flash across them, then disappear. “Back to lurking in the shadows, are we, Mr. Lang?” she asked, giving me a saccharine smile that I was pretty sure was fake.
“Ash.”
Shit. Why had I told her to call me that? I'd made it clear when I first met her that she wasn't going to be calling me that.
I knew the answer, no matter how much I hated it.
I wanted to hear my name on her lips. I wanted to hear her moaning it, then sobbing it as she begged me to let her come.
She wouldn't beg.
I knew she wouldn’t. Wouldn't beg. Wouldn't submit. She wasn't a part of my world, and the separation had nothing to do with money or society.
“I’m sorry.” She moved back to where she’d dropped her notepad and sat down.
I heard the whisper of skin against skin, and my gaze dropped as she crossed her legs. Shit. I wanted to uncross them, push them wide, press my mouth against her...
I forced myself to pull my gaze back up.
She wasn’t even looking at me.
“Sorry?” I prodded, remembering what she'd said.
“Yes.” She gave me a distracted smile.
Her eyes were snapping, though. Snapping and hot. Fuck. It drove me out of my mind.
“I seem to remember you telling me that employees were supposed to call you Mr. Lang.”
“You work for Isadora, not me.”
Dammit. Why had I pointed that out?
Toni arched her eyebrows, a bemused look on her face. “You're right, I do. And Isadora doesn't seem to think it's a problem for me to call you Mr. Lang. And until she tells me otherwise, it's not going to happen. And I don’t see why she would change her mind.”
Her eyes laughed at me. “Do you?”
I wanted to bite her. I wanted to haul her out of the chair, turn her around and make every fantasy I’d had over the past week come true. Instead, I deliberately strode forward and put my briefcase down. As she watched, I gave her a cool smile.
“Very well, Ms. Gallagher.” She wanted to play it that way? Fine. “I tried being friendly. But that’s apparently not what you want.”
I took a file out of the briefcase and moved closer, sitting down on the heavy mahogany coffee table that was just a few feet in front of her. To her credit, she didn’t lean away when I crowded into her personal space. She held firm and steady. Again, I was overcome with the need to see just how far I could push her – how far I could take her – how far she could take me.
“I’ve done some research into your background.”
“I’m aware.” A smile cold as the arctic curved her lips. “But having someone follow me? Really? Wasn’t the background check done by Winter Enterprises enough?”
I was a bit surprised that she knew. Stanley Kowalski was good. He wouldn’t have slipped up. Unless he'd hired someone else to follow her and they'd messed up. But I kept my surprise hidden.
“Nothing is good enough when it comes to my sister.” Tapping the file against my thigh, I leaned in closer until she was just an inch away. Still, she didn't flinch. “I’ve got to admit, I’m not overly happy to have somebody who was arrested on felony drug charges so closely connected to my sister...Ms. Gallagher.”
Her face was blank for a moment.
Then her face went red and she surged upright. I moved with her, but the narrow space behind the coffee table didn’t provide for a lot of movement.
Shit. I probably just made a tactical error.
“You ass!” She planted her hands on my chest and shoved.
Hard.
She was a lot stronger than she looked, and I’d had more than a few looks at that tight body. I half-stumbled, and while I struggled to regain my balance, she darted away, placing herself in the middle of the room and staring at me with sheer loathing, as if she couldn't stand to be in the same room as me.
My head was spinning.
She’d just pushed me.
People didn’t put their hands on me. No one ever put their hands on me. Not even when I'd been a scrawny little rich kid who preferred to play on his computer instead of joining the other boys outside.
A woman more than half my size had just pushed me.
“You are an asshole!” she said, her voice low and raw.
“I’m voicing valid concerns–”
“Fuck your concerns.” She jabbed a finger at me. “My brother was arrested on felony drug charges when he was eighteen. That was nearly ten years ago.”
Her lip curled as she stared at me and I almost wanted to take a step back. I'd never been looked at like that by anyone. I'd had admiration. Jealousy. Mostly admiration. Never that look of disgust.
“You…” She shook her head. “Fuck, Lang. You’re a piece of work. Although, all things considered, I guess I can see why you think everybody is scum. After all, you are.”
“Now, that’s enough.” I took a step toward her, my temper stretched to the snapping point.
“No, it’s not enough! He was a kid. A stupid kid, and he came clean. He testified.” Her hands clenched into fists as she glared at me. “It all but tore our family apart, and I’m not going to stand here while some pretty boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth judges me for something my brother did as a kid.”
I gaped at her, trying to figure out just where I’d lost ground here.
She took a step toward me. The light in her eyes should have warned me.
“Now if you want to talk about questionable actions, we could talk about you following me to the club the other night,” she said, her voice silky. “You do realize stalking is illegal, right, Mr. Lang?”
I swallowed hard and tried not to look like I'd done it at all. “It was hardly stalking.”
Except it sort of was.
“Really?” She cocked her eyebrow, a derisive smile tugging up the corner of her mouth.
Damn her. I wanted to take that lower lip between my teeth, suck on it. Bite it. Nibble on it. Make her moan.
She sidled a little closer, and now she was near enough that I could have fisted my hand in her hair – exactly the way I’d fantasized.
“Then what would you call it, Mr. Lang? You just happened to be going the same way I was? Visiting the same club? Staring at me numerous times because you...what? Mistook me for somebody else?”
“Ash,” I corrected her, ignoring the rest. If she called me Mr. Lang one more time...
She clucked her tongue. “I’ve already explained that, Mr. Lang–”
I snapped.
Without thinking, I grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to me.
The slight weight of her crashed into my chest and I let go of one arm, shoved my freed hand into her long, silken strands of hair. Still staring at her, I twisted the heavy strands around my hand and wrist, cranking her head back until she had no choice but to look up at me.