IN BED WITH THE BOSS

“And your determination to believe they’re true doesn’t make it so,” Jennifer snapped, throwing his words back at him. “I don’t know you, and I damn sure don’t know the people who gathered this defamatory conjecture.” She flicked a corner of the folder. “Let’s face it, Mr. McCall. If any of this was provable in court, you wouldn’t be sitting here across from me at a restaurant table. You would be meeting with the DA or SEC.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Scott said, a cruel satisfaction glinting in his eyes. “It’s amazing how the court of public opinion will try and convict someone much swifter than a court of law.”

Her stomach rolled, bile churning before racing for the back of her throat. She hated to admit it, but he was right. Good God, if any of this information leaked, it would destroy Bruce’s reputation, his engagement, and irreparably harm the family company. It wouldn’t matter if the claims couldn’t be proved; the speculation alone would be detrimental and the damage irreversible . Since their father died, Bruce’s one goal-no, his obsession-had been to enlarge Bennet Inc, to make it even more successful and powerful than what their father had done. None of that would be possible if even an iota of the data in this dossier was true.

Not that she believed it. She couldn’t. Yes, Bruce could be merciless and cut-throat. She’d increasingly seen more and more evidence of this, personally and professionally, in the last few years. And it worried her. The glimpses of the brother she’d revered and adored as a child and teen were becoming further and further apart.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

But it was those glimpses that gave her hope. That reminded her that underneath the often cold demeanor existed a good man. A man incapable of the things noted in that defaming file.

And bottom line… She loved him.

Love and loyalty demanded she believe in him.

“What do you want?” she asked, forcing a calm into her voice that was a farce. Questions, thoughts and fear whipped through her in a chaotic gale.

This man… He was a stranger. A cold, calculating, beautiful stranger.

“You.” he replied.

The blunt announcement doused her in a frigid blast, stunning her. “Excuse me?” she rasped.

“I want you.” He leaned forward, his midnight gaze pinning her to her chair. “More specifically, I want you to be in love with me.”

Jennifer gaped at him. She couldn’t help it. After all, it wasn’t every day that she sat across from a lunatic. “Are you crazy?” she demanded, clutching the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping her from leaping out of her chair. “We have never met before,” she continued, “I don’t know you. How could you believe you love me?”

He flicked a hand, the gesture impatient, dismissive. “Of course I don’t love you, Miss Bennet. And I don’t need your affection or professions of an emotion that is nothing but an excuse for fools and liars to behave badly.”

Jennifer shook her head, confused. “But you just said-”

“Pretend,” he interrupted. “You’re going to pretend to be deeply enamored with me, and our whirlwind relationship will be as fake as that sentiment.”

“You are crazy,” she breathed. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you even propose something like that?”

“Why?” Scott repeated, arching his eyebrow. “Your brother.”

She barked out a harsh crack of laughter. “My brother? Do you really think Bruce cares if I’m in a relationship with you?”

For the first time since sitting down across from her, Scott smiled. The curling of his sensual lips was slow, deliberate…and menacing. “Oh yes. Your brother will care. And he’ll understand.” he said.

“Another enigmatic message, Mr. McCall?” Jennifer waved a hand, frustrated. “I’m too old for games.

Whatever your play is here, make it plain.”

“I’ll make this very plain, Jennifer,” he said, using her given name even though she hadn’t granted him permission to do so. “You can pretend to be my significant other, and convince your brother that you are mine. Or…” a steely edge that was both lethally sharp and smooth entered his voice “…I can let the truth about Margie Investments drop into your brother’s lap. Imagine his fury when he realizes the secrets his sister has been keeping. And then, while that little bomb detonates, I will release the information in that file to not just the SEC but to every news outlet and journalist I have access to. And believe me, the list is long. As would be the jail sentences your brother and his precious senator would face for everything they’ve been up to. What effect do you think the meltdown of your family name and company will have? How many people will want to accept funds from a woman associated with a man whose name will be synonymous with financial scandal and fraud? Even the desperate will think twice about that. So both of you would be ruined, if everything in that dossier leaks. That leaves us at an impasse, Jennifer.”

He paused, and the import of his words-no, his threat-sank into her like the realization of a floundering person being swallowed by quicksand.

Slow but no escape.

“The choice is yours.”

——-

Scott inhaled as he entered his mother’s home, and the sense of calm that always settled on him when he was with his family wrapped around him like a warm embrace.

Though his mother and sister had lived in the six-bedroom, seven-bathroom home for only four years, it was home because they were there. It was as much his sanctuary as his own downtown condominium. As the sound of his mother and Pat Benatar singing about love being a battlefield on her ever- present radio reached him, he shook his head, amending his thought. No, it was more of a haven for him.

Because family was everything.

Striding past the formal living and dining rooms with their soaring twelve-foot ceilings, and the sweeping, curving staircase, he headed toward the rear of the house. His mother might have initially balked at him purchasing this home for her and Sara in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods, but there’d never been any doubt about how much she adored the airy, state-of-the-art kitchen. With its wall of windows, restaurant- style ranges and cooktops, top-of-the-line appliances, large marble island and butcher block and dual workhorse sinks, she had instantly fallen in love. And it was in this room that he usually found her.

Like now.

She stood at the stove, still clothed in her professor outfit-an elegant gray pantsuit with a crimson blouse and hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck-and barefoot. Her slim body swayed back and forth to the eighties’ rock anthem, and Scott stifled a snort as she perfectly executed an arm-and-hip dance move he recognized from the classic MTV video.

He gave her a slow clap. She whirled around with a gasp, brandishing a tea strainer like a club. “Scott,” she scolded, splaying the fingers of her free hand over her chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She replaced the strainer in the waiting cup of steaming water and shot him a look over her shoulder. “I warn you, if I go, all of my money has been left to your sister’s Maltese puppy.”

Chuckling, he crossed the room and pulled his mother into a hug. Her familiar scent of gardenias greeted him like a childhood friend. Only with his family could he be Scott McCall, son of Felicia McCall, former cafeteria worker who busted her ass to provide for her children and earn her PhD in educational studies at the same time.

With them, he could lower the guards he’d erected between him and the rest of the world, especially those who greedily grasped for money, connections, time or sex from him.

He jealously guarded his moments with his family. Zealously protected them.

“That’s fine,” he assured her, with a quick kiss to her forehead. “I have the very best legal department, and they would be capable of breaking that will.” He smiled as she swatted at him. But then he noted the two cups on the gleaming countertop, and his amusement faded. “How is she?” he murmured.

The light in his mother’s eyes dimmed. “Better,” she answered. She sighed, turning back to preparing the hot tea. “She’s still sleeping more than I like and hasn’t left the house since coming home from the hospital a week and a half ago. But…better.” She checked the strainer in the second cup. “I was just about to take this up and sit with her for a while.”

“I can do that, Mom. You obviously just arrived home.”

She didn’t have to continue to work as a social sciences and history professor at the University. He was more than willing to provide for her, as she’d done for him and Sara . But Felicia McCall wouldn’t hear of it, and Scott was proud to have one of the most loved professors as his mother.

“Go upstairs, relax and I’ll take care of Sara.”