Professional Sin Read online

  Contents

  Header

  BLURB

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Other Stories

  PROFESSIONAL SIN

  Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer:

  PROFESSIONAL SIN © 2015 by Cleo Peitsche. All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission in writing from the author. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, locations and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is for entertainment purposes only.

  This book contains mature content and is solely for adults.

  Cover Photo ©2015 by Cormar Covers

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for purchasing this ebook. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I look forward to sharing more of my stories with you.

  Why join my mailing list? Because I release new stories at a special price to thank my readers!

  xoxo,

  Cleo

  Other Titles By Cleo

  After Forever/Bisexual Billionaire Trilogy (Threesome Romance)

  Careless

  Hopeless

  Fearless

  After Forever Box Set

  Office Toy Series (BDSM Gang Bang Romance)

  Office Toy

  Client Satisfaction

  Company Vacation

  Flex Time

  Soft Skills

  Executive Package

  Executive Toy Series (BDSM Gang Bang Romance)

  Executive Toy

  Professional Sin

  (More titles coming soon)

  By a Dangerous Man (BDSM Erotic Romantic Suspense)

  Season One

  Trapped by a Dangerous Man

  Wanted by a Dangerous Man

  Saved by a Dangerous Man

  Tempted by a Dangerous Man

  Seduced by a Dangerous Man

  Season Two

  Dared by a Dangerous Man

  Broken by a Dangerous Man (coming soon)

  Pursued by a Dangerous Man (coming soon)

  Desired by a Dangerous Man (coming soon)

  Protected by a Dangerous Man (coming soon)

  The Shark Shifter Paranormal Romance

  Touching Paradise

  Master of the Deep

  Oceans Untamed

  Blood in the Water (coming soon)

  Shark Burn (coming soon)

  Take Me Hard Series (BDSM Romance)

  Ride Me Hard

  Love Me Hard

  Use Me Hard

  Take Me Hard Compilation #1

  Push Me Hard

  Fantasy Playland Series (BDSM)

  Sleeping Lady

  Sleeping chez Sade

  Wide Awake

  Wide Open

  His Kiss

  Fantasy Playland Box Set

  Mistress Moi Series (Femdom)

  My Three Slaves

  Cuckold Chuck

  Faye-Faye and the Sadist

  Bad Boyfriend Series (Femdom Romance)

  Bad Boyfriend

  Professional Sin (Executive Toy #2)

  The skills that keep Lindsay alive are turning into liabilities. She needs to keep covering her tracks, which leads to lying to her bosses in order to hide her true identity.

  Hawthorne, Romeo and Slade are powerful men who have zero tolerance for what they perceive as disrespect. They spell it out clearly: no more lies. As much as Lindsay wants to walk away, she knows the three men give her something she desperately needs.

  When someone from her previous life recognizes her, her bosses demand to know who she really is and what she’s running from.

  Is a half-truth a truth? Or is it just another lie?

  Chapter 1

  The morning sun blasts through the bank’s huge glass windows, bathing me in a pool of warm light and washing out the white floor.

  My legs are crossed demurely at the ankle, and I’m holding a zippered black tote bag in my lap. My wrist is turned so I can see my watch, the second hand jerking, letting me know how much time I’ve lost already.

  If the assistant manager doesn’t get to me within the next five minutes, I’m going to have to leave empty-handed. That means the long drive was in vain.

  The feeling starts like it always does: an almost imperceptible, slight pressure on the back of my neck, on my arms.

  I know there’s no one standing in the parking lot, staring at me. There wasn’t anyone the first twenty times I looked.

  My shoulders go rigid as I try not to squirm in the seat.

  When the feeling doesn’t let up, I nervously glance behind me. On the other side of the streak-free glass, people in passing cars are going about their business.

  Not a pedestrian in sight, but I can’t shake the itchy feeling.

  I check my watch.

  The bank has been open for thirty-five minutes. I was the first customer through the door, but when the stooped, gray-haired woman came in just after, I agreed to let her go first.

  It’s a decision I deeply regret because she’s hellbent on locating six dollars and eighty-two cents missing from her savings account. The assistant manager is going through it with her, line by line. He’s slow. She’s slow. The tellers can’t help me; from what I’ve observed the last half hour, they can barely count.

  Sleepy, small-town bank. In fairness, I originally chose it because it was the quietest in the area. The cherry lollipops are good, too.

  The itching feeling starts again, stronger than ever, and when I whip around, I see a man of about my age—twenty-three—staring at me. He’s shortish and is wearing a green baseball hat. He’s got what might be an ATM receipt in one hand.

  My grip tightens on the tote even though it’s still empty. I can see, vaguely, my own reflection, my wide eyes which look colorless but are really pale blue, my long, platinum blonde hair that flows over my shoulders and down to my waist, the hint of ripe cleavage in the V of my blouse.

  I’m trying to keep the panic off my face. I’m certain I don’t know this guy, but the way he’s staring…

  Someone might have shown him my photo. I know my family was looking for me in this town; it’s the reason I fled.

  “I can help you now, miss,” says the assistant manager; I recognize his slow voice.

  Flustered, I stand. I’m unable to look away from the guy outside. His face is blank, unreadable.

  Is he waiting for backup? For the cops? Is my grandfather’s limo going to pull up?

  The guy checks me out, hands now in his pockets, then his eyebrows twitch.

  Grandma Moses shuffles across the lobby, toward the door.

  I suddenly go to her, take her arm like she’s a relative and I’ve been waiting for her to finish up.

  The woman, who smells incongruously of beer, doesn’t seem startled to find a stranger’s arm entwined with hers. She and I walk through the first set of doors together, and she’s talking about how difficult it will be to get a seat on the bus.

  “I can give you a ride,” I say quickly because the guy is still standing out there, though he’s looking uncertain now. “If you wait in my car for three minutes.”

  “That would be nice. I don’t live far.” She looks down. “What darling shoes! Are they difficult to walk in?”

  I, too, glance down. I’m wearing pinkish, four-inch heels. They match my blouse and offset the da
rkness of my tight black skirt. “Thanks. And no, they’re very comfortable.” Comfort, of course, is relative, but I feel safer in these shoes and a sexy outfit than I would in an armored truck.

  The man is moving away, and by the time I get my new friend into my car, he’s across the street.

  “Thank you,” she says. “Bless your heart.” She looks up at me with watery brown eyes. “Such a pretty girl,” she says. “You must have the world wrapped around your finger. Bless you.”

  “Three minutes,” I mumble, and I practically run back into the bank. Already, I’ve got the key to my safe deposit box in my hand.

  The assistant manager signs me in—Lindsay Jones—and doesn’t ask for identification.

  In the vault, we both insert our keys into the locks. The door opens, and he pulls out the box inside and sets it on the table.

  The second he’s gone, I’ve got my bag open and I’m shoveling over the box’s contents.

  My hands shake, and my stomach does acrobatics.

  There’s money, just fifteen hundred dollars. It’s my emergency fund, for times when I can’t access my bank accounts before skipping town. Though it doesn’t always work. My last move, for example. I left everything, which led to misuse of the company credit card at Sunrise Imports. Hawthorne still holds that against me—it’s his grandfather’s business, after all—but at least Romeo and Slade are giving me a chance.

  Next are the documents. The photos. The USB sticks. Even though my box seems untouched—who would take photos but leave the cash?—I quickly paw through them, make sure it’s all there.

  And at the bottom of the metal box and practically begging to be forgotten are my junior driver’s license—now expired—my birth certificate, and my social security card.

  I plunge them into the bag without looking. I don’t know why I hold on to these things. Maybe because deep down, I hope one day I can be myself again.

  After all these years, I should know better.

  ~ ~ ~

  While I’m driving the old woman home, I spy the guy who was staring at me. He catches up to me at a light, and he looks at us.

  This time he looks politely away, and I heave a sigh of relief as he turns the corner and heads down the street. I never liked this town, and I certainly don’t miss it.

  But then, I don’t miss any of the places I briefly lived. I can’t afford to get attached.

  I’m an hour from the office when the phone rings.

  “We’ve been looking for you,” Romeo says, his deep voice a pleasant rumble. It could be my imagination, but there seems to be promise in his voice, and my breath quickens.

  It’s been three weeks since the fateful night when I met the men who are now my bosses. Things happened that night. Things that I wish would happen again.

  “Lindsay?” Slade cuts in, his tone teasing.

  “Where are you?” Romeo asks.

  “I’m coming in at noon,” I say lightly. “Remember?”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Romeo points out. “Where are you?”

  “At the doctor,” I say without missing a beat. I went a week ago for a long overdue physical, so it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

  “Are you sick?” Romeo asks.

  “No,” I say. “It’s just part of my checkup.” Traffic on the highway slows, and motorists start honking. I hang up, then turn off my phone because I don’t want my bosses to overhear the commotion and know I lied.

  Then traffic stops completely.

  Sirens wail in the distance, and even though I know they’re not coming for me, I think of my fake license, and my hands turn slippery on the steering wheel. The residual cherry flavor turns bitter in my mouth.

  It’s forty-five minutes before I squeeze past the accident—an overturned truck with a load of stuffed armchairs, but no one seems injured. I don’t dare make up the lost time by speeding, so I’m late getting back into town.

  No time to visit my new safe deposit box, which I opened yesterday.

  I sit in the employee garage, which reeks of burned rubber, and try to decide what to do with the bag. The garage is secure, but leaving the tote in the car feels too much like temping fate.

  Bringing it up with me… That feels risky, too.

  But every second I waste deliberating is one more second that my bosses are waiting.

  I decide it’s safer to lock the bag in my desk, and I hurry to the elevators.

  Chapter 2

  As soon as I step through the door, the receptionists motion me over.

  “Conference room A,” says Eliza. “You’d better hurry.”

  Paula nods, pity in her eyes.

  Still, I start toward the back of the office, toward my desk; an extra two minutes won’t make a difference.

  Hawthorne turns the corner.

  His dark hair is impeccably styled, and his intense blue eyes are fixed on some distant point. He’s wearing a somber suit, a crisp white shirt, and a navy tie spotted with faint yellow dots.

  Because of his height and muscular build, I’m reminded of an athlete striding into an arena, not a grumpy billionaire businessman in the middle of a stressful week.

  Buried in thought, he doesn’t seem to have noticed me. The man is money wrapped in power and dusted in sarcasm, and I don’t want to be on his radar.

  Maybe I can squeeze by—

  “Conference rooms are the other direction, Lindsay,” he says, tone abrupt. His gaze snaps to the receptionists, and his angular, symmetrical features settle into a deep frown.

  “They informed me,” I say quickly. “I thought it prudent to procure a notebook.”

  His head comes up a notch, like bringing a notebook to a meeting is a stupid idea. “No need to procure anything except a chair in the conference room. Let’s go.”

  And then he snaps his fingers as he walks away, like I’m a doggie.

  Hawthorne Tarraget. A man of undeniable sexual appeal—and he has the skills to back it up, believe me—but also, a pompous prick.

  Also… my boss.

  I have no choice but to follow him.

  Inside the conference room, it’s chaos, with everyone running around. Hawthorne goes directly to Romeo and Slade, who are deep in serious discussion.

  There’s an empty seat in the corner, and I carefully sit.

  The bag goes on the floor, and I use my foot to push it under my chair and as far up against the wall as possible.

  While I do this, I’ve got my head up, and I’m looking around. But Hawthorne has noticed. I meet his piercing blue eyes defiantly.

  Thank goodness someone walks between us, sparing me from a staring contest of epic proportions.

  My attention turns to Romeo. His tanned brow is furrowed in concentration, and the determined intelligence in his warm brown eyes means that whatever the problem is, he’ll fix it.

  Romeo is a mess of contradictions. His size makes him intimidating, but his face is gorgeous, angelic even. My body responds on a visceral level. Any woman would.

  Heat stings my cheeks as I remember what he felt like inside me.

  After I learned his full name, Romeo Wood Bison, I looked him up. Stupidly, I assumed the Wood and Bison were hyphenated, but I soon learned that his ancestors have been in North America for thousands of years.

  Watching him now, I decide that Romeo actually resembles a bison: imposing shoulders, corded muscles, and thick dark hair. He’s also the most sophisticated person I’ve ever met.

  Slade comes over to me. With his classically handsome face and refined bearing, I can easily imagine him as a roguish gentleman on a spirited horse or engaging a villain in a sword fight.

  “Ace is walking,” he says, his hazel eyes uncharacteristically grim.

  He’s referring to Billy Ace, the founder of Food4All, the company my three bosses are about to buy. Were about to buy.

  It’s not completely unexpected. Ace is slimy and a bit lazy. There are enough rumors that he stole the idea from a college friend that
I assume it’s true. Hard to ask the roommate, who has since been deported back to China. I haven’t met Ace, but I know the type. Chip on his shoulder, thinks he’s smarter than everyone else. Not the sort of person I’d want to do business with, but what do I know?

  “Why?” I ask.

  Slade shakes his head and runs a hand through his silky dark hair. “He wants more money. Again.”

  I glance nervously at Romeo. This deal has been very public, and a failure now will tarnish the reputation of the company the three men run together. I know better than anyone how important image is, how the right projection can throw doors wide open.

  “Are you going to up the offer?” I ask.

  “I want to,” Slade says loudly enough to get Romeo’s attention.

  “One person blackmails us, then everyone’s doing it. Our company is too new to start off like this,” Hawthorne practically snarls. “We’ll be dead before we start.”

  “This technology, with or without Ace, gives us an advantage,” Romeo says. His deep, rumbling voice makes me squirm in my seat. “We need to stay focused on our goal.”

  “Buy it without Ace,” I suggest. “No one is irreplaceable. It would save a lot of money, too.”

  Slade smiles. “I also thought that would be a good compromise. We get what we want, and we won’t have to deal with Ace going forward.”

  Romeo holds up a hand for silence, and the room falls quiet. This joint venture of theirs is primarily financed with his capital, and the company is operating out of his offices.

  I’m not sure why that is because all three men are extremely wealthy; they could have been equal partners. They chose this arrangement for some reason unknown to me.

  “We’ll attend the meeting tomorrow as planned. Let Ace conclude that we’re giving in and are being surly. Then I’ll lower the offer by six percent, with or without Ace,” Romeo says.