Surrender Read online

A wave of rage surged through me, and I couldn’t hold it back. “Why?” I screamed, the sound cutting through a sob. “That’s all I want to know. Why?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I shook my phone. “My blood tests came back. You still don’t know what I’m talking about?”

  “No. What?” He looked bewildered. He sounded bewildered. Wow, what an actor he was.

  “Give it a break, Mr. Maldonado. I’m not buying the act.”

  “What act? What are you suggesting?”

  “Why did you drug me? And why the hell aren’t you admitting the truth?” I shrieked, unable to stop myself. He’d pushed me and pushed me with that innocent shit.

  His mouth gaped, then snapped shut.

  “Yeah. I know the truth. So there’s no use lying anymore.”

  He stood. He paced.

  “Trying to think up an excuse?” I sneered.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Good.”

  He stopped pacing. “It wasn’t me.”

  I slapped my hands on my thighs. “Bullshit. Who else could it be? I haven’t gone anywhere with anyone else. Only you.”

  “I don’t know who else. What drug did they find?”

  “I don’t remember. And I didn’t have a chance to write it down. It started with an M.”

  Kameron glanced around my room. His eyes locked on my computer. “May I?” He motioned to it.

  “Sure. Whatever.” Why was he keeping up the innocent act?

  He flipped it open and, sitting on the bed, set it on his lap. “M, you say?”

  “Yes. But you know what it was already. You gave it to me.”

  The keyboard went tap-tap-tappity-tap.

  Then. “Midazolam?” he asked.

  “Yes, I think that’s it.”

  He was silent as he read the information on the screen. “What was the last thing you remember eating or drinking last night?”

  “The water. In the car. On our way to the hotel. I used it to wash down the aspirin.”

  “I bet it was spiked.”

  “Sure. You spiked it. After you opened it for me, so I could take my aspirin.”

  “No, I didn’t spike it. I swear to you.” He closed the computer, set it on the bed, and focused on me. “Listen, I can understand how this looks, but it wasn’t me.”

  I searched his face. I wasn’t particularly good at catching people in lies. My own brother fooled me over and over and over. And I’d known him most of my life. So how would I ever discern whether a man I barely knew was speaking the truth?

  Shaking his head, he shoved his hand into his pocket. He pulled it out, his fingers wrapped around his phone. And, dialing, he stomped out of my room.

  My heart was thumping in my chest. I was breathing fast. Pumped up on adrenalin. I tried to slow my breathing and tiptoed closer to the door so I could eavesdrop.

  “I need every bottle in the car tested immediately! Yes, right now. No. Make sure you don’t tip off the driver. I don’t want him to ditch the evidence.” He paused. “Good. Call me when you get something.” Another pause. “Yes. She’s okay.”

  Was this whole thing a scheme to cover up what he’d done? Was he going to dump the blame on an innocent man?

  Or was he really trying to get to the bottom of things? Was it unfair of me to jump to the conclusion that he would drug a woman after using my brother to force me into a shady contract with him so he could fondle me at will?

  Dammit, this was driving me crazy!

  When I heard him coming back, I dashed to the bed, pretending to be working on my laptop.

  “I’ll find out who did this,” he said, teeth gritted. “Whoever it was, he’ll pay.” His fingers were curled into fists, his jaw so tight that the muscles of his neck were bulging. He was seething. He stared down at me, eyes searching. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He nodded, thumped back to the door, stopped, turned around. “I understand why you think it was me. Tying strings to your job offer was low. Illegal. Consider them severed. And the contract, wherever it is—”

  I said, “My bag. I haven’t read it—”

  “Destroy it.”

  “But—”

  “You’ll keep the job, I hope.” He shoved his hand in his pocket again. This time, he pulled out his money clip. I counted five bills he peeled from the stack. He set them on the dresser. “To compensate for your suffering last night and this morning. As for my inappropriate behavior . . . I wouldn’t insult you by trying to pay you for that. I promise from this point forward, I will treat you with the respect you deserve. You were not at fault for what your brother did. I never should’ve taken advantage of that situation, or made you pay for his mistakes.”

  “Then why? Why did you do it? Why the contract? Why the strings?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. There was something about you. I . . . wanted you. No matter the cost. But that is no excuse.” He closed the door behind him as he left.

  I lay in bed, emotions churning, checking the clock every hour or so. I tried to sleep, thinking I’d be summoned the next morning to accompany him to his meetings. But dawn came, sunlight slicing like a blade between the curtain panels hanging over the window. No knock. No call. I showered and dressed and went out to the main living space. I found a tray of breakfast foods waiting for me in the kitchen. No Kameron.

  I ate by myself and wandered around the suite, growing restless and bored. I even ventured into his room, saw the bed, neatly made up as if it hadn’t been slept in. There wasn’t a single scrap of clothing in sight. The man was a neat freak. I inhaled, catching the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Whatever it was, it was really nice. It smelled expensive. Sexy. Wondering what it was, I tiptoed into his bathroom.

  Again, nothing was out of place. His personal things were all stored out of sight. Worried he might catch me snooping, I abandoned my search for his cologne bottle, went back to the living space, and flopped down on the couch.

  This trip had turned out so differently from what I’d expected.

  Here I was, in New York City, a place I’d never been, a placed I’d dreamed of visiting, and I was alone, bored, and locked in a condo. I wasn’t feeling sick anymore. Outside of the fact that I had been brought here by my employer and thus should remain where he could find me in case he needed me, there wasn’t anything keeping me from doing a little exploring. From the look of it, the condo was in a safe part of town.

  Then again, I didn’t have a key.

  I tried calling him.

  No answer.

  Surely he had an extra key somewhere....

  I started my search in all the usual spots, the drawers and shelves. I located some pictures in a drawer that captured my interest. Old photographs of Kameron with some other men. They all looked similar. The angle of their jaw. The shape of their eyes. The wavy texture of their hair. Brothers? No, he’d said he had no brothers. Cousins, maybe. Another photo showed an older couple. The man looked very much like Kameron. And the woman was very beautiful, with long hair and a body I envied at my age. The man was smiling playfully. His expression reminded me of Kameron.

  Like father, like son.

  I flipped through some of the other photos, smiling as I glimpsed a tiny slice of Kameron Maldonado’s family life.

  The front door clicked, and I jumped.

  He walked in, stopped, frowned. “What are you doing?” Feeling as if I’d been caught snooping in his underwear drawer, I dropped the photos and slammed the drawer shut. “I was looking for a spare key.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought I’d go out for a little bit.”

  “Where?” He set his briefcase on the floor, next to the door. “Did you tell me you’d never been in New York before?”

  “That’s right, I haven’t.”

  “You shouldn’t leave the condo alone, then. It isn’t safe.”

  “This area looks pretty—”

  “It isn’t safe
,” he repeated as he flipped up his collar and pulled his tie out. I watched as the silk slid along his neck, remembering how it felt gliding over my wrists. My insides warmed, and I swallowed. “I’m finished with my appointments today. I’ll take you out.”

  “Thank you.”

  He unbuttoned his shirt while walking toward his room. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

  “Sure.”

  He closed himself in his room, presumably to change his clothes. I waited, excited to be finally seeing the city while being healthy enough to actually enjoy it. He emerged a few minutes later, dressed in jeans, a snug black pullover shirt, and a really sharp black leather jacket. “Ready to go shopping?”

  “I . . . we’re going shopping?”

  “Didn’t I promise you a shopping trip before we left?”

  “Yes, but that was before—”

  “Let’s go.” He motioned for me to take the lead. I went out into the hallway and, while he locked the condo, I poked the elevator button.

  His phone rang just as he stepped up next to me. “Hello? Great. Okay. Thanks. Call me later when you get the report back.” He smiled at me. “I have a car waiting downstairs. Where do you want to go first? Barneys? Bergdorf Goodman? SoHo?”

  “I don’t know.” Really, how could I choose? I had heard of all of them but had never been to any.

  “I think SoHo first,” he said.

  The door chimed, and in we stepped. The car was empty. Out of habit, I stood in the back. Kameron took a spot next to me. The door rolled closed, shutting us in the elevator together.

  He glanced at me, and I felt my cheeks burning a little.

  He was such a handsome man. Insanely handsome. And I knew what his kisses tasted like—decadent. I knew what his caress felt like—intoxicating. I knew what his possession felt like—thorough perfection.

  Never would I taste his kiss again, or shudder under his caress, or quiver as his body possessed mine.

  Dammit.

  I knew I shouldn’t feel so disappointed, but I did.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing my wilting mood.

  “Nothing. I’m just . . . a little worn out still.”

  “If you’re not up to our excursion, we can go—”

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  He looked askance at me as the elevator bounced to a stop. His eyes were dark with concern. Genuine worry. How could I have ever mistaken that worry for guilt?

  He couldn’t be that good of an actor.

  Now, I felt guilty. For accusing him of doping me. For screaming at him. “Really. I’ll be okay,” I said.

  “If you get too tired, tell me right away and I’ll bring you back.”

  “Will do.”

  We stepped outside. The air, the sidewalk, the streets were damp, and the air was heavy with the scents of wet concrete and auto exhaust. I inhaled deeply as I was escorted to a waiting car.

  As I buckled in, I turned to Kameron and smiled through my guilt. “I’m sorry I blamed you.”

  “Don’t worry. I would’ve believed the same thing. Especially after the rough start we had.” He set his hand on my knee and gave it a tiny squeeze. Little warm ripples of pleasure swept through my body at the touch. My gaze jerked to his hand, and in the next second, he snatched it away. “I promise you, I won’t ever touch you inappropriately again. I was wrong to do that in the first place. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  The rumors suggested otherwise.

  So did his history with me.

  There I go again, second-guessing him. Doubting him.

  Unsure how I felt about his promise, I smiled and nodded and tried to ignore the waves of need pulsing through me.

  It was going to be pure hell working so closely with this man now. Absolute torture.

  7

  Eleven thousand dollars. Eleven freaking thousand dollars. That’s how much money Kameron had spent today. On me. Not by my choice, either. I’d given up a damn good fight, trying to dissuade him from spending so much. I’d begged, pleaded, demanded, threatened to quit. He ignored my begging, pleading, and demanding. As far as my threat to quit went, he warned me if I quit he’d hunt me down and drag me back to work.

  There was absolutely no stopping him.

  At the end of our shopping extravaganza, I had a mountain of new clothes and shoes. All of them gorgeous. A few of them terribly expensive. The bags were crammed in the trunk of the car, and exhausted, I flopped into the backseat with Kameron. My eyelids were heavy. My eyes were gritty, as if someone had dumped a bucket of sand in them.

  I yawned.

  “I shouldn’t have kept you out so late,” he said, lifting an arm to drape it across my seat back.

  “I’m okay. Just sleepy.”

  He pulled me against him, cupping my head and forcing it to the side so it rested on his shoulder. Immediately, those waves of warmth started pulsing through me again.

  Would they ever stop? And how would I ever be just his administrative assistant if he was going to continue to touch me, hold me, pull me closer to him?

  Now that he’d promised not to hold me to our agreement, I didn’t have a reason to find a new job . . . or did I?

  “Rest,” he ordered.

  Fighting to ignore the desire building inside my body, I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. Slowly. Deep inhalation. Slow exhalation. In. Out.

  I felt my body growing heavy.

  He pulled me tighter against him, and I could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. His body heat warmed me, and a sleepy contentment spread through me.

  This was so nice. I felt protected and safe. More than I’d ever felt in my life.

  I’d always been the caregiver in our family. Me. I’d been the shoulder my brother had leaned on. It was so nice having someone for me to lean on for once. Really nice.

  A tiny moan of contentment slipped from my lips.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. The low rumble of his voice vibrated through my body.

  “Yes. I’m fine. I’m good.”

  “Excellent.”

  The car pulled to a stop. Kameron gave my shoulder a little shake. “See there? It’s the Empire State Building.”

  I turned toward him, following his motion as he pointed out his window.

  “The architecture—” His head swiveled. He froze.

  We were nose to nose.

  Mere inches separated our mouths.

  My gaze was locked to his.

  It felt like someone had sucked all the air out of the car. I pulled in a little gasp. It wasn’t enough.

  His head tipped closer, closer.

  Ohmygod. I held my breath. My heart started pounding. My eyelids fell over my sleepy eyes.

  His lips found mine, lingered, barely touching. The contact was so light it tickled. I quivered.

  “Abigail,” he whispered, his breath a soft caress that made tiny, sharp blades of need pierce my body.

  “Kameron?” I answered, unsure why he’d said my name.

  “Stop me. Stop me now.”

  I didn’t want to, dammit. I wasn’t even sure if I could.

  “That’s an order,” he said with a little more force.

  I lifted a hand to his chest, flattened it. I could feel his heart pounding through his clothes, the swift rise and fall of his breaths. His shirt was soft under my touch, but beneath that lay tight sinew and firm muscle. My fingertip found something small and hard. I explored that sharp little thing, running my fingertip back and forth across it, and Kameron sucked in a gasp.

  “That’s not helping.” It was a growl. Low and sexy and full of danger.

  I couldn’t help giggling. I felt powerful and powerless at the same time. With the mere flick of a fingertip I could make this large, strong, dangerous man quake. But at the same time, I was falling under the spell of the lust blossoming inside of me. In no time it would overpower me. I could feel it.

  “Miss Barnes,” he repeated. He hadn’t moved. Neither
had I. We were both frozen in place. I was warring with myself, trying to will my arm to move, trying to convince my muscles to contract so I could push him back. It wasn’t working. “Abigail.”

  “Yes, sir?” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded heavy and laced with need.

  His words echoed in my head. There was something about you. I . . . wanted you.

  He groaned, jerked me toward him, and kissed me.

  Instantly, my body flamed with need.

  I whimpered, my lips parting, and his tongue slipped inside, filling my mouth with his sweet, intoxicating flavor. It caressed mine. His lips gliding smoothly. His hands exploring my back, fingers curling around the back of my jacket.

  “Dammit,” he whispered between thrusts of his tongue. The kiss was becoming more intense, as the ripples of heat spreading through me grew in strength. There was no way I could stop it now. Absolutely none. I surrendered to my weakness and grabbed two fists full of his hair, making sure he wouldn’t stop either.

  My tongue tangled with his. And his hands reached down, cupped my ass. In a single heartbeat, he unbuckled my belt, lifted me off the seat, and plunked me down on his lap, legs straddling his hips. I ground my throbbing center against the bulge in his pants, wishing there were no clothes between us. I ached for him to fill me, to stroke away the burning need deep inside.

  Releasing his hair, I reached down and tried to pull his shirt off, but I couldn’t. He wasn’t letting me. His hands were busy too. Moving up my sides, fingertips grazing the outsides of my covered breasts before cupping my face, holding me in place so he could deepen the kiss.

  Oh, how I loved the way he took control. I shuddered. I whimpered. I would have pleaded if I could speak. Responding to his kiss, my tissues swelled, clenching and unclenching. The scent of my desperation filled the air. I sucked in a deep breath, then let it out in a little huff when he fisted my hair and jerked my head back.

  “Must stop,” he grumbled against the base of my throat. His tongue flicked over my skin, and my right side was instantly coated in goose bumps.

  “No, please.” I rocked my hips back and forth to the pounding of my blood through my body. My fingers curled around leather, grasping it, holding on. “Please don’t stop. I want this. I want you.”