Free Forbidden To Say No - The Billionaire's Plaything (An Erotic Romance Novel) by Ashley Spector Page A

jet-black hair, just as soon as he tightens his grip on me, pushing the palm of his hand into my back and jolting me into a brisk walking pace. I barely remember to pick my bags of bizarre shopping up from the floor before I'm spirited away
    "This way, Miss Everett." Daniel says, gritting his teeth loud enough for me to hear. I follow his command, walking with him to the nearest elevator - mirrored from all sides, and lit by a reminiscently bright florescent bulb - before watching him jab a button with a large, thick finger, closing the doors and taking us upwards.
    "I'm so glad you could make it."
    Those small, expressive blue eyes. I've missed them so much. He peers into me warmly, and I have to fight the overwhelmingly unprofessional urge to wrap my arms around him. Our figures standing side by side are reflected around the elevator - his six feet against my five four - and all of a sudden it seems so real. Seeing myself stood beside him, the gorgeous billionaire producer, in the corner of my eye. I'm still dreaming.
    "I'm glad I could make it too," I humbly say, before finding a sizeable frog in my throat, and having nothing else to offer. Before I begin to lose myself to the silence that unfolds, the elevator very conveniently pings , and the doors swing open, enveloping us in a cool, air-conditioned breeze.
    "Come, see my uhm, other office."
    I hop along beside him, distracted momentarily by the sight of the city below us. We might only be on the 11th floor or so, but we're still too high for me to make out the ant-sized people dotted around, going about their hideously mundane duties; walking to work, ticketing cars, sweeping the streets. Walking by the wall-length window like this makes me feel like I'm flying.
    This particular 'office' of his is so much more impressive than the other one I've already seen. Rows of computers - some staffed by secretaries, some not - punctuate the floor, and the gentle hum of a nearby air-conditioning unit brings the only sound, besides the gentle tapping of keystrokes from time to time. There are offices, separated by glass partitions, bearing several names that I can barely make out in stenciled letters across the doors. Everything is carefully color-matched; blue desks, blue monitors, blue keyboards and blue carpets. Somehow everything seems so tranquil.
    He leads me by the hand across the floor, passing on our way various ornaments and decorations I could have sworn I've seen before; wasn't that the golden suit of armor from that big Samurai movie I didn't bother seeing last year ? Before I can answer myself, we've made it to a large set of tinted-glass double doors, pushed aside with ease to reveal the splendidly flamboyant boardroom within.
    "Wow," I sigh to myself, hopefully silent enough for him to mistake it for a deep breath. The wall-length windows are polished to a shiny, beaming finery, so clear that I can surely make out the individual rays of sunshine that emerge from the clouds outside. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, bearing maybe a hundred candle-shaped light bulbs - identical to those dotted around the other night's restaurant, in fact - and the corners are littered with various movie paraphernalia; the leather jacket worn by James Dean, the boxing gloves from Rocky. Ordinarily I wouldn't be taken in by this sort of stuff, but I guess I'm just surprised by Daniel's obvious desire to impress his guests.
    "You've got some nice collections," I say, pointing to each corner giddily, like a kiddy in a sweet shop. He grunts drearily, and I finally look back to his face to see an expression I haven't seen from him up until now; disgust.
    "You know what they say, in order to be successful, project an image of success."
    "You don't sound like you believe that," I reply, noting the deeply cynical and sarcastic tone of his voice.
    "I don't."
    I quietly place each bag upon the floor, before he turns to face me, and instead points me under the large, oblong desk in the centre