The Surrender: Falling In Part 35

He snorted. "Doubtful. It was Lucian Patras who gave me the job, and he and I aren't on the best of terms."

The other man c.o.c.ked his head curiously. "Why offer a job to someone you aren't on good terms with? Well, regardless, I'm just as much your boss as he is. I'm his silent partner."

Parker hadn't realized Patras was owned by partners. Before he could remark on his statement, Mr. Bishop asked, "What did you do to p.i.s.s Lucian off? Usually he doesn't keep employees he doesn't like."

"He didn't have a choice." His answer came out a little too arrogant and he regretted the show of emotion.

Mr. Bishop laughed. "Really? I'd be very interested to hear how a doorman maneuvered Lucian Patras into an uncomfortable predicament. Lucian has a reputation of always coming out on top."

"I made him a deal. He owes me. Half of our bargain was for a job. The other half's a little more valuable, but I'm not ready to collect on it."

"And you trust Lucian to keep his word with this other valuable half of your deal?"

Parker nodded. "I do. A man like Lucian Patras doesn't get as far as he has unless his word's worth something."

Mr. Bishop tapped his chin and eyed him peculiarly. "You seem rather sharp for a doorman."

"Probably because I never intended to be one. I was already taking college-level courses when my father killed himself and we discovered the courts and banks owned everything we had and then some."

"Impressive. That would've made you what? Seventeen at that time?"

"Fourteen."

His brow shot to his hairline. "Fourteen and college-level courses? What the h.e.l.l are you doing holding doors?"

"I wasn't in a position that made people eager to hire me." He'd also been content until Patras had stolen Scout away. After that, the a.s.shole owed him. "Mr. Patras did me a favor by giving me a job."

"Some favor," Mr. Bishop laughed. "The way you tell it, he didn't have a choice."

The car continued to move, now out of traffic. Parker figured he was safe since this guy was also his boss. He relaxed a little. "He had a choice. He chose what was in his power to give me." The man smirked and Parker continued, "And now he owes me." He shrugged.

"And what does Lucian owe you?"

He pressed his lips tight.

Realizing Parker wasn't going to answer, he then asked, "Okay, how about what did you have that he wanted?"

He shrugged again. "It wasn't so much what I had as much as it was my knowledge of where something Mr. Patras wanted was hiding."

"Scout," the other man whispered and Parker stilled.

How the f.u.c.k did he know about Scout?

"Holy s.h.i.+t, that's it isn't it?" Mr. Bishop's eyes narrowed. "That's why you look familiar. You're from St. Christopher's."

Knowing he'd blown his hand, Parker asked, "How do you know Scout?"

"Anyone a.s.sociated with Lucian knows the woman who managed to wedge his head up his a.s.s."

"Excuse me?" He wasn't following.

"He thinks he's in love with her and hasn't been himself since she showed up."

Parker's jaw popped. He hated thinking of Lucian Patras loving Scout. Nothing about Patras was right for her. Scout had an unhealthy obsession with money. She thought of it as security. Little did she know that the kind of money a man like Patras had wasn't the kind of security she was after. Money at that level was power, ent.i.tlement, owners.h.i.+p, and it always led to corruption.

Parker needed a little more time, and he'd secure a place to live and be able to provide food on the table and other necessities, and she'd see that kind of life was better than one of such extravagance, simpler. There was too much expectation when one dealt with real wealth, too much society and judgment. The public eye, once you were in it, never blinked.

He must have a terrible poker face, because the other man then said, "Ah, I'm beginning to understand why Lucian doesn't like you. You're a threat."

Parker scoffed. "I'm hardly a threat to a man like Lucian Patras."

"Don't underestimate yourself, Parker. You're someone from her past, a past a man like Lucian will never be able to relate to or wrap his brain around. You also happen to be a decent-looking man and I a.s.sume Scout's friend. You've been in my car now for what? Five? Ten minutes? Like me, Lucian's good at picking up on talent. I recognized you were more than a doorman two minutes after we met. Don't be naive. Lucian knows exactly who your father was. Before Lucian Patras, there were two men who held equal or more power than him in Folsom. His father was one of them. The other one was yours."

Parker scowled inwardly, hating any comparisons between himself and his father.

Mr. Bishop laughed and said almost to himself, "It was probably a relief to give you a job. It allows him to keep an eye on you." He looked Parker in the face. "You say he owes you something else. What is it?"

Parker looked away, knowing this man could read him like a book.

"How about this," Mr. Bishop offered. "Tell me what it is and if it's what I think it is, I'll give you a job that will get you to the top a lot faster than doorman or bellhop. I have a business that Lucian has no share in. I could offer you a position where you wear something a little more dignified than a blazer with your enemy's name on it. If you're as smart as you say, and have half of your father's apt.i.tude for business, you could find yourself in a corner office before you know it. You said you need money. I'll start you out at triple what you're making at Patras, if your answer is what I think. What do you say? Sounds like a good deal to me. If it's not, I'll keep your secret quiet and you go on holding doors for us. What do you say, Mr. Hughes?"

"Why would you do that if Patras is your partner?"

Mr. Bishop hesitated, clearly debating what he should share. "There's been a falling out. We're approaching my next stop and I'm afraid my offer leaves with me. Better decide fast."

s.h.i.+t. He'd be crazy to turn down an offer like that, but there had to be a catch. The limo pulled over and Mr. Bishop stared at him impatiently.

"Fine," Parker snapped. "It's Scout. He had to promise me a job and then, when I decide I'm ready, I call in his other IOU, a month with Scout in which the rich p.r.i.c.k cannot interfere."

The man's smile was almost reptilian, and Parker worried that he'd made a grave mistake in confiding in him. "Excellent," he purred. "Meet me here, tomorrow morning at seven." Mr. Bishop eyed him from head to toe. "I believe I have some older suits to start you off. I'll bring them with me in the morning and you can change then. My driver's yours for the next twenty minutes. He can take you back to Patras, or now that you have a better job, wherever you want."

He opened the door and Parker gripped his arm. "Wait."

Bishop narrowed his eyes at his hold on him, but Parker didn't let go.

"You seemed pleased when you found out Scout was the bargain. Why?"

"I have my reasons," the man said.

He quickly considered the offer. Lucian had promised him a job, but specified that keeping it would be up to Parker. The other part of the deal, the part involving Scout, was contingent on two things: Parker being ready to call in his debt and doing so before Patras got a ring on her finger. He could take Bishop's offer and Patras would still owe him. There was only one concern. "I won't work for someone who wishes her harm," Parker said, meaning every word.

"I wish the lovely Evelyn no harm. I only wish her out of my partner's life."

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.

There are so many wonderful people who helped The Surrender Trilogy come to be. I must first thank my husband, Mike, who made my dreams a possibility and gave me the wings to fly. You are my rock. My parents, who raised me to believe I could be and accomplish anything I put my mind to. Trudy Kozak, you have been my courage and advisor throughout this journey. You are truly a great friend. My book club girls, you are the foundation on which my hopes stand and the catapult that propels me into action. And my daughter, who has the patience of an angel and the sweetest soul I've ever known. These are the people behind the scenes who have made my life extraordinary, but there are those I've met along the journey that kept me moving and inspired me to never stop.

To the students and teachers of Pennwood Middle School, you listen to my stories of yesterday and inspire so many tomorrows-hold your dreams tight and never let go, no matter how high they take you!

And then there are those who played a special part in this magical moment. Lori Foster, you are an opportunity giver, a dream maker, and proof of everything any writer hopes to be. Duffy Brown, you saw something in me and told me the best way to go. Leis Pederson, there are no better words than thank you. Roberta Brown, thank you for believing in me. Gayle Donnelly and Robyn Mackenzie, you rock-enough said. And to all the wonderful people at Penguin, my grat.i.tude is immeasurable.

Finally, my greatest acknowledgement of all goes to you, my readers. I love you. Without all of you, the days would be dull and the journey would only be half as sweet. I am humbled by your love and support. Thank you for everything.

Keep reading for a preview of the next book in The Surrender Trilogy BREAKING OUT.

Available from InterMix November 2013 The Job Evelyn smoothed her clammy palms down the front of her pencil skirt. The narrow belt at her waist winked under the artificial, amber lighting of Patras' lobby. Reflections danced across the toes of her patent leather Mary Janes as her feet clicked over the polished marble floor, suddenly m.u.f.fled when she crossed the thresholds and the four-inch heels landed silently on the red runner. Dugan waited just past the gold ta.s.sels.

Her hands tightened the lapels of the nipped jacket she wore over her pearl b.u.t.ton blouse as the brisk March air cut through her clothing. Dugan nodded at her and opened the door to the limo.

Silk slid over leather as she slipped inside the warmth of the car. The door shut with a gentle snick and she adjusted the nude lace at the top of her stockings. Nerves twisted her stomach into a spring that coiled and released adrenaline, heating her blood.

Dugan glided into the driver's seat. "Where to, Ms. Keats?"

Pulling in a slow breath, she carefully exhaled, forcing away any trepidation. Her lips were done in a deep crimson shade one of the girls at the salon had suggested after she had them style her hair in a sophisticated French twist that morning. She was very aware that she looked nothing like her normal self.

"Patras Industries," she said with as much confidence as she could muster.

Dugan's untamed brows lifted to the brim of his hat. She had never been inside Lucian's office. It was a part of his world she didn't like to trespa.s.s on, but after their conversation this week, she knew it was time to cross into that part of his domain. After all, he had brought so many of her fantasies to life it was time she returned the favor.

Dugan maneuvered the limo carefully away from the curb and eased into traffic with practiced skill. The pearls at her neck hung low in her cleavage. Her fingers twirled over the opalescent, heavy beads. Her mind toyed with images, predictions of Lucian's expression as she unveiled her surprise.

Her legs crossed and uncrossed as the limo navigated through the busy streets of Folsom. A jolt of nerves had her questioning her motives. What if Lucian was busy and became upset when she interrupted his day?

She pushed the thought away. This was one of his fantasies. He'd taught her to be adventurous. As much as she worried he would be upset with her brazenness, she couldn't truly imagine her handsome exhibitionist being too put out.

The corner of her mouth pulled into a secret smile. Breath filled her lungs as excitement spun wildly in her belly.

The limo pulled up in front of Patras Industries. The gla.s.s facade reflected a distorted version of the car back at her. "Would you like me to phone Mr. Patras and inform him you're here?"

She tensed. "No. No, thank you, Dugan. I'd like to surprise him."

"Would you like me to wait?"

Her palms again smoothed her skirt. "That won't be necessary. Lucian will see that I get home safely."

"Very good, Ms. Keats."

Dugan exited the car and came to her door. Sweet antic.i.p.ation had her knees softening. Sliding out of the car, she stood and found her footing in her high heels. She was doing better with the walking in heels thing. Her clothing adjusted with gravity and her eyes momentarily widened as she became suddenly aware of a minor wardrobe s.h.i.+ft down below. Heat rushed to her cheeks as the gusset of her panties sagged under the weight of her arousal. She was already starving for him. Luckily, no one could see her panties. Yet. Lucian would know soon enough how excited she was.

She cleared her throat. "Thank you, Dugan."

He nodded. "Do you know where you're heading?"

"Fifteenth floor, right?"

"Yes."

Taking a deep breath, she pivoted and stepped through the revolving door. The lobby was quiet. A man sat on a chair beside the elevator, typing something into a Blackberry. Evelyn's manicured finger pressed the elevator b.u.t.ton and it instantly took on a golden glow.

The man looked up from his phone, his gaze traveling from her heels, up her stocking clad legs, around her curves barely concealed by the tight skirt, and settled at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her lips tightened as she watched the antique metal arrow clock the floors. When the cart arrived, she breathed a sigh of relief and stepped inside the elevator, away from Sir Staresalot.

Knuckling the b.u.t.ton for the fifteenth floor, she stepped back and ran a quick hand over her clothing and hair, making sure everything was in place. The car alighted with a luxurious purr and slowed just as the arrow reached fifteen. Shutting her eyes, she took a calming breath.

Showtime.

The metal doors parted and Evelyn carefully stepped out onto burgundy carpet. Phones rang and quiet voices carried. A woman in a brown skirt and ivory blouse leaned flirtatiously over the reception desk, a ballpoint pen twirling in her dainty fingers as she whispered to the young man who manned the area.

He cleared his throat and his visitor straightened. She stood straight, stepping aside so that Evelyn could be seen. "May I help you?"

Evelyn smiled. "Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Patras."

The man stilled, glanced at his computer and frowned. "Did you have an appointment?"

"No."

His mouth opened and snapped shut. "Mr. Patras only sees people with appointments. If you'd like to leave a name-"

"Could you please just let him know Ms. Evelyn Keats is here?"

The man's eyes bulged. "Ms. Keats?"

She smiled, seeing recognition in his eyes. "You must be Seth. It's a pleasure to put a face to the name."

He seemed suddenly self-conscious. "The pleasure's mine. Let me inform Mr. Patras you're here." He pressed a b.u.t.ton on the receiver at his desk. "Mr. Patras?"

"Yes, Seth?" Lucian sounded harried.

No backing out now.

"There is a lovely Ms. Evelyn Keats here to see you."

There was a momentarily pause and then his voice sounded, tinged with curiosity. "Is there? Please, send her in."

Seth smiled and pressed a b.u.t.ton. "You may go in."

"Thank you."

She carefully stepped to the door labeled President and turned the brushed nickel k.n.o.b. Lucian was coming around his desk to greet her. "Evelyn, is everything all right?"

She smiled and quietly shut the door. "Everything's fine, Mr. Patras." He raised a brow at the use of his formal t.i.tle. "I came for my interview."

Pausing, then extending his arm, he gracefully invited her into the lion's den. His face split with a slow grin and he nodded. "Ah, the interview. I'd forgotten. Please, have a seat."

He returned to the executive chair behind his desk, this one just as messy as his desk at the condo. The lavishness of the office compensated for its sloppy surface. She slid into the b.u.t.ter soft leather chair facing him and crossed her legs. His gaze followed the action and she hid a smirk.

Folding her hands over her lap, she waited for direction. He waited as well, the pregnant silence tightening her muscles as each second ticked by.

He cleared his throat. "Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself," he suggested. Easing back into his chair, his steepled fingers seemed to hide his mouth. Her own lips twitched with a sense of playfulness, but she shut her eyes and drew in a slow breath. Fantasy was about fulfilling a psychological need with physical illusions. In other words, she needed to be convincing in order to do this right.