Devil in a suit book thr.., p.1
Devil In A Suit (Book Three), page 1
Devil In A Suit (Book Three)
Ivy Carter
Favor Ford Publishing
Contents
Copyright
NOTE
Want To Be In The Know?
Devil In A Suit (Book Three) by Ivy Carter
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Bonus Content: For His Pleasure (Books 1-5) by Kelly Favor
FOR HIS PLEASURE (FOR HIS PLEASURE, BOOK 1)
FOR HIS TAKING (FOR HIS PLEASURE, BOOK 2)
FOR HIS KEEPING (FOR HIS PLEASURE, BOOK 3)
FOR HIS HONOR (FOR HIS PLEASURE, BOOK 4)
FOR HIS TRUST (FOR HIS PLEASURE, BOOK 5)
Copyright © 2016 by Favor Ford Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
NOTE
This edition of Devil In A Suit (Book Three) contains the following bonus content: For His Pleasure (Books 1-5), by Kelly Favor.
Want To Be In The Know?
If you want to know when the next book is released, and get alerted to more of the hottest deals in romance—sign up now to the Favor Ford Romance newsletter!
Devil In A Suit (Book Three) by Ivy Carter
Chapter 1
Monday morning I stand in the elevator as it rises towards the executive floor. As it beeps, just before the doors slide open, I square my shoulders and raise my chin, donning my business bitch mask. This will be my armor to get through whatever Jared King throws at me.
I will not let his insecurity or my own private misery stand between me doing a damn good job every single day.
The weekend was brutal. I tried to hide my phone, to avoid checking it constantly to make sure I wasn’t missing calls or texts from Jared, but I was mostly unsuccessful. I tried to distract myself by working my way through a couple bottle of cheap merlot from Trader Joe’s and binging bad reality TV, but nothing worked. In the end, all I could do was wallow, so that by Monday, I was steeled for battle.
I still have a job to do, after all, and I’m not giving that up. Not when it’s all I have left.
I step out onto the lobby floor and see that Jared is already in his office, which is no surprise. He always beats me to work, and even when I try to come in early, I can never manage to get in before him. I use my annoyance to fuel my determination to be great at my job today.
I take my seat at my desk and begin going through the morning’s emails. I check his calendar and see that he has a conference call at 10am and a working lunch at the Prudential, which will keep him somewhat out of my hair. There’s also a one-day turnaround trip to New York for tomorrow that’s appeared, which means I’ll need to book his flight and a car for him at the airport. I set about combing through our corporate travel site, pulling his frequent flyer number and ensuring a first class window seat, which I know he prefers.
I hear the sound of a throat clearing behind me and do my best to turn slowly towards him. Despite preparing myself for the sight of him standing in the doorway, all tall and imposing, it still manages to take my breath away. Still, I quickly gather myself.
“Did you need something?” I ask. My voice is even. Calm, even. Good.
His eyes flash momentarily, but then it becomes clear that he’s made the same agreement with himself that I’ve made with myself. We will be professional. We will not talk about what happened. We will, in fact, pretend it didn’t happen.
“I don’t know if you saw but I’m heading to New York to meet with the partners at Beeman, so I need—“
“It’s handled,” I say, not even letting him finish. He eyebrows shoot up, but I don’t give him the opportunity for anything beyond professionalism. “Your itinerary should show up in your inbox momentarily, and I booked a town car to pick you up at the airport and take you back for your return flight. Did you need me to make any reservations while you’re in the city?”
I grit my teeth to keep from blushing at the thought of the last time I booked reservations for him, and the mention seems to throw him off slightly as well. He gives a little cough that sounds like he’s trying to clear something from his throat, something more like words than anything else.
“No, that will be fine,” he says. He starts to ease backwards into his office. “Thank you. Quinn.”
“Of course,” I reply, my voice smooth like a high-end concierge. “Mr. King.” I’m practically daring him to crack, and there’s a split second where I think he might, but then he turns and heads back into his office, shutting his door behind him.
By the time Jared leaves for his lunch meeting, I’m exhausted from maintaining the facade.
Because inside, I miss him.
And I’m sad that after everything, he decided I wasn’t worth it. And I’m sad that after all that, he didn’t even have the guts to say anything to my face. Maybe it’s his imposing figure or the way he always seems so in control. Hell, maybe it’s his job or his money. Somehow, I never figured him for the type of guy who would take the easy way out of a situation, which is definitely what he did by ignoring what I said, rolling over, and going to sleep.
I decide that if I’m going to make it through the rest of the day (and all the days after that), I need to get out of the office. So I grab a salad that I packed and head out towards the Public Garden. It’s only a couple of blocks away, and the spring weather is sunny and warm with a cool breeze. I find an empty bench as far away from the various buskers as I can and open up my salad on my lap, ready to tune out the office and all the background noise for the next half hour.
“Quinn! Escaping The King, I see.” Alec strolls up the path, a messenger back across his chest, his blazer folded across his arm. He grins that lazy, surfer boy grin at me, tossing his blond hair off his forehead.
“You know it,” I reply. You have no idea, I think.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, holding up a greasy paper bag that looks like it came from the burger joint up the road that I love, but can never afford. My mouth waters at the smell of salt and grease.
“Sure,” I say, scooting over to give him space next to me. “But only if you share fries.”
“Deal,” he replies.
Over the next half hour most of my salad goes uneaten as I slam about half of his fries, not caring about the patina of salt and grease they’re probably leaving on my chin. He asks me how things are going on Jared’s desk, and I give him an eye roll and a brush-off answer that sounds like misery and commiseration.
We laugh over some of Jared’s more intense quirks (the three Splendas is something he definitely remembers, though not for the same reason that I do). By the end of lunch, I’m actually feeling loose and relaxed. Fast food really is good for the soul, I guess.
We gather our things and start to make our way back to the office, depositing our trash in a nearby trashcan we pass.
“Hey, so would you maybe want to get dinner sometime?” Alec asks while we wait for the walk signal to cross Tremont. The question is so casual it catches me off guard.
When the light changes, I’m left rooted to the sidewalk for a moment until a passing business bro jostles my shoulder.
My initial instinct is to say no to Alec.
But why? Jared and I are definitely not together, and maybe trying to spend a little time with someone else will help distract me from the pain I constantly feel about how things are nowadays.
But am I even interested in Alec?
Alec, with his boyish good looks and easy smile, with his jokes and his warm personality. He’s a striver, just like me, a hard worker climbing the ladder at King Advertising. Of course, he climbed it because Jared wanted me at his desk, but he’s still as hardworking as I am.
Alec smiles at me from the middle of the crosswalk, and suddenly he seems so unthreatening, so friendly and…nice…I should at least try to like him. Shouldn’t I?
And then I picture Jared’s icy stare and I feel a twinge of guilt. Following that, I remember the way he looked when he turned his back on me the other night.
And I feel nothing but cold rage.
“Hey, dinner sounds great,” I reply to Alec finally, double timing to catch up with him before the light changes and some Boston cabbie flattens me.
“Cool. Tonight? I could meet you at your desk and we could head out.”
“Yeah, definitely,” I say. A low-key night out after work is exactly what I need right now, and who knows, maybe it will take my mind off Jared King for at least a few hours.
That’s gotta be worth something.
Chapter 2
I return to the office with a spring in my step and new energy to don my armor. And when Jared returns from his lunch meeting, striding through the door on his long, muscular legs, I manage to not even look him up and down as he passes me. The effort it takes to remain professional and in control is still difficult as always, but I remind myself that it was Jared who made it clear that this is what he wanted.
Finally, I’m taking the hint and letting go.
But just a few hours later, I’m sitting at my desk, watching the clock tick closer to five, and startin g to get nervous. Every day these last few weeks I’ve been working my ass off, which has meant staying as late as Jared, almost as if we’re in some kind of game of office chicken. But tonight I’m leaving at five on the dot. For a date. With Alec.
At 4:45, my cell phone rings. It’s Janet.
“Hey, I have tickets to the Sox game tonight. They’re terrible seats, but they were free, so who cares. You up for hot dogs and beer?”
I roll my eyes. Janet hates sports and all they stand for, but that conviction is only overshadowed by her love of trash food. And ballparks are nothing if not meccas of nachos and corn dogs and cotton candy, which I happen to know are three of her favorite food groups.
“Can’t. I’ve got plans,” I say. I glance over my shoulder, but Jared’s door is still closed.
“Ooooh, plans with the Sex God?”
I cringe. “Nope. No more Sex God.” I keep my voice low. The very last thing I need right now is for Jared to hear about the nickname that’s developed between me and my best friend.
“Damn. Don’t tell me he turned out to be a Sex Dud.”
Hardly, I think, but I don’t want to get into it, especially not here, with the Sex God himself just one closed door away.
“It’s complicated, which is why it’s best that it’s not happening,” I say. “I’m going out with another guy.”
“Ok, well I expect details. But if you call me before 9pm, you’ll have to be prepared to yell over the drunken shouting of a bunch of angry sports fans.”
“You know you’ll be my first call,” I assure her.
I hang up, and then I heart footsteps and see Jared approaching.
As if he knows.
I feel a chill as I wonder just how much he overheard.
“Staying late tonight?” he asks, though there’s very little question in his tone. I can tell it’s bordering on an order, but he’s trying to keep it even.
“Actually no,” I say. “I’ve got plans.”
As if on cue, the elevator doors slide open and Alec steps out. His suit jacket is folded over his arm, the sleeves on his white dress shirt rolled up, and his royal blue tie is already loose at his neck. He smiles as he steps into the lobby.
“Hello Mr. King,” Alec says. I try not to wince at how young he sounds, like a kid brother. Or an intern. He doesn’t wait for Jared to respond, perhaps because history and practice have shown him that Jared has very little to say to those below him. Instead he turns to me. “You ready to go?”
I chance one small glance back at Jared, who now looks to be fully glowering, though he’s trying his best to control it. Only a person looking closely, who knows his body well, would be able to detect the clenching of his jaw, the vein in his neck, and the way his biceps jump.
And boy do I know that body well.
But I choose not to linger on that thought or on him. Tonight is about moving past Jared King. So I gather my bag.
“I think I’m ready,” I reply.
“I thought we’d hit up this new burger place in Cambridge, assuming you don’t mind a train ride,” Alec says.
A snort comes from behind me, but when I turn I see only Jared’s back as he disappears behind his slammed office door.
“He never changes, does?” Alec whispers, his head cocking in the direction of the office door.
I shake my head. “No,” I say. “No he does not.”
Chapter 3
The train ride is crowded with the afternoon rush hour, and I’m forced to sit while Alec stands over me, which means our conversation is limited. We hop off the train at Harvard Square and head over to the restaurant, a new organic burger place just outside the train station.
We order, then find an empty table near the middle of the restaurant, one of the few left. The place is clearly a popular spot with college kids and young professionals, eager for a post-work or post-class bite. Between the polished concrete floor and the vaulted industrial ceiling, the sounds of everyone chattering away bounce around like rubber balls, filling the restaurant with happy, bustling sound.
“So, how’s things with the Dragon King?” Alec asks when he’s seated across from me.
“Ugh, can we not talk about work?” It’s going to be hard enough to tune out the white noise that is Jared King in my head. I’d like to keep his name out of my mouth, as well.
“Fine by me,” Alec says, and then there’s a beat of silence as we both try to come up with another line of conversation. “How ‘bout them Red Sox?” Alec throws on an affected Boston accent, sounding like the illegitimate brother of Ben Affleck.
I try not to roll my eyes.
He’s trying, and I try in return, talking a little bit about the team. My father is a pretty big fan, so I know enough to get by.
But the conversation simply doesn’t have any of the spark that I’m used to with Jared, and I hate the fact that I keep comparing the two. It’s not fair to anyone.
When they finally call our number, Alec goes to retrieve of orders of burgers and onion rings and fries spread out across two trays.
We’re eating, making some more conversation about families and future hopes and dreams. Part of me is still comparing everything to what it might be like if I was here with Jared King.
I know that I need to stop thinking about the man.
Except that I feel like being with him is the only time I truly feel that spark, that sense of fully being alive and being myself.
“Hey, you look like you saw a ghost,” Alec says, chewing a fry as his brow creases.
And that’s because suddenly I think maybe I have seen a ghost. I swallow drily and the half a burger falls from my numb fingers.
Jared King has just entered the restaurant and he’s heading towards us.
For a moment I think it’s a hallucination, perhaps brought on by stress. Or too many French fries in one day. Or maybe this whole thing, the date with Alec and the burgers and the noise, is all a dream.
I finally let myself focus on Jared’s face and see it’s a stormy sea of emotions, but the dominant one appears to be anger. And not the cool, distant, low boil that I’m used to, but a bubbling heat that looks ready to explode. His muscular shoulders are taught, rising and falling with his deep, angry breaths.
Alec turns to follow my gaze and he jolts in his seat.
“Uh, hi there,” Alec says, and it’s only at that moment that I remember that he’s still here at all. He sounds confused, probably because Jared King is standing in a cheap burger joint in Cambridge looking like he could put his fist through a brick wall, and thus far he hasn’t spoken a word.
Jared, for his part, completely ignores Alec, save for one withering sidelong glance. Instead he lasers his focus straight down at me.
“I need to speak with you,” he says.
Alec looks confused. I doubt Jared ever showed up anywhere after hours to discuss anything work related with him, and I can see that he’s already starting to wonder if maybe this situation might spring from a more personal nature. And I am not about to go there. I just barely got out of this … well, whatever it was unscathed. I’m not about to let the gossip overtake me now.
I look up at Jared, my eyes narrowed. “I’m off duty,” I tell him. “Unless it’s some kind of crazy emergency?”
Jared stares at me. “There is no off duty, and I think you know that.”
Alec reaches for a napkin and wipes his mouth, then rises from his chair. “Um, I could give you guys—“
“No,” I say, giving him a slight smile that I hope communicates My god, the Dragon King is in rare form today. There’s still a chance I can resign this all to a work misunderstanding. Maybe I can save myself still.
I look up at Jared. “Is this about the Richmond account?” I ask. I narrow my eyes at him, fingers crossed that he’ll catch my meaning with my reference to the account that started all of this. And because he’s Jared King, he doesn’t miss anything.
“Yes,” he says, with a sharp nod. “We need to speak about a matter relating to the Richmond account. Immediately.”
