Famished - Meghan O'Flynn (learn to read books TXT) 📗

the company beyond a simple paycheck, something that would keep him there regardless of his motivational level. And he knew it wasn’t Turner’s wife, whose makeup-covered split lip at a fundraiser last week spoke volumes about her ability to influence her husband.

Turner would have no trouble landing another job, and quickly at that. Yet, the man was crying. If allowed to, he would have stayed well past his usefulness.

The idea made Dominic’s back tense. He turned from the window, plucked his briefcase off the floor, and left the office, each step on the open stainless steel staircase echoing his departure like a drumroll.

Near the bottom floor, another set of footsteps sounded. He paused in the stairwell and watched as Hannah Montgomery appeared around the bend and hurried toward the glass doors to the parking lot, hair flying behind her, feet tapping at a nervous pace against the tile. Despite her constant deer-in-headlights demeanor, he had never once regretted hiring her. She was quick. Predictable. Reliable. Efficient. Unlike Turner.

Dominic smiled and continued down the stairs.

She startled at the sound of his footsteps and dropped her purse. By the time Dominic reached her, she was on her knees, scooping items back into her bag. Practical things: a wallet, car keys, sunglasses. She avoided his gaze as he bent and handed her a standard-issue blue checkbook. Their fingers touched. She snapped her hand away as if he had shocked her.

They stood, and she shouldered the bag.

“How are you this evening, Ms. Montgomery?”

She met his eyes, then looked at her shoes. “I’m fine.”

She was an intriguing girl.

“I got your email the other day in response to my request for new ideas in staffing recruitment. You had some great suggestions.”

She looked at him again, and this time her eyes lingered on his face. “Really? I mean, thank you, Mr. Harwick.”

“I am already implementing some of them. As you know, I believe that the people who work for me are the lifeblood of this company. There’s nothing more crucial to its continued success than quality hires. I’m glad to have people like you on the team.”

Her face and neck reddened, as did the small swath of chest near her clavicle. “Thank you, sir.”

“Have a great night, Ms. Montgomery.” He watched her disappear through the glass doors to the parking lot and headed for his private garage below the building.

Hannah. It was a lovely name. He wondered if her skin felt as satiny as it looked.

Dominic was still considering her when his Aston Martin crunched up the limestone drive to his expansive home of white concrete and glass. In front of the house, life-sized marble nudes looked forlornly over the grounds amidst a sea of lilies and vibrant red bee balm on its last blush of the year. Not a single weed, as it should be.

He entered through the mudroom and removed his shoes to avoid marring the white marble floors that ran the length of the first level. The lights flickered on as he strode past a roomy half bath, through the kitchen, and into the living room, where a four-foot-high blown glass sculpture in blue sat on an iron table between convex white leather sofas. No coffee table. A television was hidden in the ceiling, though he usually had better things to do with his time. The Colonel had admonished those who spent their days on frivolous pursuits. Not that Dominic had ever argued with him about it.

He took the open steel staircase at the back to the second-floor master suite, which was as open as the first floor, save for a bathroom and a gym at the back. He changed his clothes, returned to the mudroom to tie on running shoes, and took the door to the back porch.

Like everything else, the black paint on the porch was a conscious decision–even the door to the outdoor bathroom where he cleaned off after running was the same deep, sooty color of his Great Dane.

Duke had been a pup when Dominic had taken him from his dying father. Nothing makes a man more trustworthy than a dog, the Colonel had said. As always, his father had been spot on.

Instead of running circles around his four acres of meandering waterfront property, Dominic jogged through the gate, down his drive, and onto the road. Duke followed at his heel, keeping pace through the quiet streets as the sun painted the sky with stripes of violet and fuchsia.

A young mother pushing a baby carriage piled high with blankets smiled at him as he passed. He nodded in her direction. A few blocks later, an elderly man tending to some end-of-season gardening gave him a friendly wave. Dominic waved back, and the chill air kissed his exposed hands.

A few blocks from his home, open wrought iron gates welcomed him into the neighborhood park. The breeze off the manmade duck pond brought with it the scent of dead and dying cattails, and with them, the memories of summers on Lake Michigan, his father at the helm of their sailboat.

He headed toward the pond, watching the withered grass along the side of the walk. Winter was coming early, but Dominic felt no anticipation for the upcoming holidays. There would be no tree, no gifts, no family gatherings. Those days were gone.

As he passed a wide curve in the path, a woman came into view. She leaned over to stretch her legs, her spandex pants leaving nothing to the imagination. Diamond and amethyst rings sparkled on her fingers, and a small dog yipped around her heels on a ridiculously tiny leash.

Dominic did not recognize her face or the perfectly symmetrical breasts that swelled under her zippered top. She must live elsewhere, and from the way her gaze lingered on his expensive running gear, he guessed she probably lived in a less affluent subdivision.

He ran past her, three steps, four steps, five, giving her time to start running, then glanced back and feigned surprise, both that she was still watching him and that he had been so unfortunately caught in his stolen look. He turned his face forward again and slowed his pace to match the thwap thwap of her approaching sneakers behind him. She bumped his elbow. Cheap perfume and another, undeniably female, scent cut the earthy aroma of decaying foliage. Her lipsticked mouth turned up at the corners, playing coy.

He didn’t buy it. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi.”

Their sneakers beat blithely against the pavement.

“Do you run here often?” she asked.

She was into clichés. He could do that.

“Yes, Duke here seems to love it. Well, that and the lovely animals he finds to play with.”

Nothing made a man more trustworthy than a dog.

“Yeah, Tootsie enjoys that as well.” She gestured to the tiny dog at her heel, scrambling to keep up.

Tootsie. He kept his grimace to himself.

“How about you? Do you like the view out here?” She winked.

Dominic tried not to sigh at the stale innuendo. “Yes. I have a thing for Pisces women.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you—”

“Something in the elegant way you carry yourself.” And the birthstones on your fingers. “Sorry if I was staring, but you are exceptional.”

She smiled. She liked that.

They always did.

Two miles and a shower later, Dominic took her out to a small Italian bistro. Women were all the same in the way they expected him to impress them. He did not disappoint. He bought her wine while he drank sparkling water and regaled her with witty anecdotes and tales spun to show how interesting he was, with an emphasis on his financial success. When dinner was over, he stifled a yawn and took her back to her house, ten miles from the park.

“I don’t usually do this,” she whispered as she pulled him through the front door.

They always said that. Why? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if it would alter the outcome—or what he thought of her.

He watched her carefully, determining her likes and dislikes before she verbalized them. It was basic science, the flush of blood in certain areas of the body, subtle arching, accelerated respiration. When she began to scream his name, he pushed her further, heightening the experience to an art form as he drove himself into her. He raised his face to the window as she panted her way through her orgasm.

Later, as she slept, he went into her bathroom. Soap scum ringed the tub. Spots blemished the mirror. He stepped into the shower, turned the water to scalding, and scrubbed his body until his skin was raw. Then he pulled on his clothes without drying himself and walked out of the house. By the time he climbed into his car, her name was barely a memory.