Mr. Fuckability Ch. 07

I roll my eyes. "You're trying not to laugh at me aren't you?"

The smile blooms into the full-fledged dazzler, laugh lines making long dimples in his cheeks.

"Why you?" He leans forward placing his elbows on the table, going in for the kill. "Because you are amazing in bed, sexy as hell, and yes, I'm trying not to laugh at US, not just you, Sprite."

I lean in too. "You didn't get that from reading my bio months ago."

His eyes flash but his facial features remain that pleasant aloofness. I have surprised him.

"What was it about my picture that made you notice me and become curious enough to request me at the meeting?"

His eyes flash again, but I can't discern the meaning this time. "You're very quick, Danielle."

"I have my moments and you're avoiding the question."

"Very well." He pursed his lips, fingers forming a temple to rest against them. I know he is choosing his words carefully.

"You look very well put together, everything in its place, but the wild blue eyes give you away. Your stare is direct and challenging, but your dress and actions are demure. You're an intriguing contradiction. I suspected this girl." He motioned eloquently towards my new face and hair. "Was inside and it made me curious as to why you would hide her."

"Got all that from a picture did ya?" I cross my arms and lean back.

"I'm good at reading people, their stances, facial features, tones. All of these thing are telling for what the real person is like. Everyone gives things away." He pauses as his eyes fall to my necklace. I am beginning to understand his reference to tells as I remember his fascination with it.

His hands create that perfect temple at his lips again as if they could filter out the right word to say. His features are even more controlled than normal as if he is weighting out the best probable outcome for whatever it is he's about to say. "It is also your necklace. I noticed it in the picture."

His gaze lowers to the piece of jewelry again, and he pauses.

"Go on." I encourage.

"This part is going to be a little hard to swallow, but I don't know any other way except to just tell you the truth."

He reaches across the table to catch the pendant in between his finger and thumb rubbing it.

"It's my family crest. That's the part I wasn't telling you that night. I am part of an old sect that goes way back in Irish history. The hobgoblin has been our family crest for almost three hundred years. The emerald he holds and those in his eyes are the colors of the army of the lowland tribes of Ireland." He pauses, taking in my shocked expression with a calm, assuring node. "I promise you I am not making this up." He releases my necklace to lean back studying me. "You can look it up yourself. It does get more interesting. Seven years ago a jewelry company came to my father interested in doing replicas of the necklace that has been a legend in our family for generations. My father agreed. There were only 1000 reproductions made to be sold throughout the world."

"Why is it legendary?"

"The original was lost by my great, great grandfather when he gave it to the woman he loved."

"How was it lost if your great, great, grandmother had it?"

"Because he gave it to the woman he loved not the one he married." He taps his fingers on the table, his eyes falling from my gaze to study them. It's a nervous gesture.

"The legend in my family says that he promised her that he would find her again in another lifetime."

"And you think that's what's happening now?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

He shrugged casually, too casually. "I'm not saying that, but I do think it's interesting that I found a picture of a beautiful girl wearing it on the company bio of a business I was already researching. Don't you?" His fingers are tapping quicker now.

"There's something else you're not telling me." I say, watching him watch his hand.

His fingers freeze mid tap and his eyes look up to bore into mine. "I don't think that is a reproduction you're wearing. I think it's the real one. The letters that are carved onto the back of that pendant were not put on the reproductions. We never told the jeweller about them."

I twirl the medallion in my fingers, running them over the deeply carved initials on the back as I considering everything he has told me. My mother had given it to me, the last present she had ever given to me. She had found it at an estate sale mixed in with other antique jewelry and knew of my flair for the unique. She had jokingly told me to keep it close, and it would bring me happiness. Had she known about the legend behind it? Is that why she had said that? I had no knowledge of its history other than where she had picked it up from. I hadn't given much thought to where it had originated, but I would be Googling it the first chance I got.

"Besides, you're fun." He smiles that dazzling smile, laugh lines forming long dimples in his cheeks. His gaze drops to my lips making his thoughts obvious before rising back to meet mine. "You always seem to be up to your elbows in trouble and I like sticking around to see how it plays out." He shrugs making light of the awkward pause his revelation caused.

"The rewards are phenomenal." His eyes lit with humor and heat.

I wave him away unable to contain my chuckle, or delight. "You're awful."

"It didn't sound like it last time, Sweetheart." His voice drops to a sexy, teasing purr.

His gaze rises from me to some unknown spot behind me. "Damn glass." He mutters under his breath and points to the tablet I have laid between us.

I blinked at him a few times, not quite understanding.

"Show me one of your charts."

I am still reeling from everything he has told me, so it takes me a bit to understand what he is saying.

I slide one of the diagramed charts I had spent hours perfecting onto the screen in front of us. He doesn't even look at it; instead he stared at something over my left shoulder.

I turn to see my boss walking past, his hands in his pockets as he glances nervously at us. I turn back around and point to a section of the chart. My hands go through the motions I have memorized without thought as my mouth ventures into new territory.

"So what now, Mr. Del'Acortay?"

"Marco."

"Okay. Marco, would you like to set up a meeting with another staff member to discuss your account? It wouldn't be professional of me to handle anything for you since we have...former knowledge of each other." I say, trying to get things back on track.

Maybe I could still save this?

"You mean we fucked like rabbits." He says leaning back in his chair, crossing one leg casually over the other, and resting one hand on his knee.

Maybe not.

I wet my lips. "It still doesn't change the situation..."

"You had the account last night, Danielle. I might have been considerably distracted, but your numbers are good. I accept your proposal on the condition that you remain part of the team." His eyes rake down my body and when they return the frustration is replaced by something hot, hungry, and almost predatory.

My breath catches in my throat as I remember in vivid details all the things we did when he last wore that look.

"Let me take you to dinner."

"It's nine o'clock in the morning." That dazzling smile is back on his face. He knows exactly when to turn it on. I need to remember that.

"How many woman have you done this to?"

"None."

His charming smile falls crashing and burning, his dark brows slashing down over hard, electric green eyes. I've pissed him off.

"I always go after what I want. It's a trademark for me; it's one of the things that has made me successful. To date, however, a woman has never hit that list." His jaw clenches.

"That is until now, apparently." He looks away. If I didn't know better, I would say he looks embarrassed at his admission. It's probably an expression he has cultured for effect, but it is still charming.

"Don't you have a slew of supermodels to drag to some social function? I'm sure they would be a much better fit for you than me. Why don't you go stalk one of them." I raise one eyebrow like Jess always does and lean back into my chair crossing my arms.

I will not be charmed by this man. I have been hurt enough in the last five years, and this man has a heart ache written all over his expensive suit and gold cufflinks.

"Why do you do that? Why do you put yourself down?"

"I'm not putting myself down. I'm being realistic."

"You're being judgmental and hostile."

I open my mouth then snap it shut. He does have a point. I straighten my shoulders and lean forward to fold my hands carefully on the table.

"Are we done here?"

"Not even close. Show me the next chart."

"Fine." I snarl and whip another diagram onto the screen. I don't see the point. Neither of us is looking at it. The way we were glaring at each other is probably a good indication we aren't discussing the account or if we are then it isn't going good.

"Why won't you go to dinner with me? All I'm asking for is a shot to see where this goes." He says pretending to examine it.

"It's just not practical. Going out with you is like postponing the inevitable. We are from two very different worlds. It won't work."

"Maybe you should just live your life instead of worrying over what's practical." He slams his hand down on the table, and I jump.

His words send chills running down my back. Not just because of the tone he has used, but because it is almost exactly word for word what my mother had said. "I want you to go out and live your life, stopping worrying so much over what's practical." My heart, which had frozen in my throat, now beats frantically to catch up. The ba bump echoing through my ears like old whispers.

"Okay." The word slips out before I even realize I am saying it.

"When?"

"Tonight. I'll meet you here."

"What time to do you get off? I'll pick you up."

I look down at the business dress I am wearing. Not my choice of date clothes but it could be worse.

We both jump as a knock sounds on the door.

The CFO pokes his head into the room; bushy eyebrows raised. "Everything okay in here?"

His eyes are on me as he asks.

"Beautiful." Marco turned to smile at him, and I watched the CFO fall under his spell. "You've got one tough negotiator on your hands. Mr. Ripley. Send the contract to my office. I'll have it signed and returned by tomorrow. You will have to excuse my bad manners. I prefer to discuss business in less crowded conditions. Ms. Rodrigues has a very obvious knowledge of these accounts that I was able to pick up on. I'm very impressed with your company, Mr. Simmons."

"Oh, fabulous. Yes, Sir, anything we can do to accommodate our clients. We are very lucky to have Ms. Rodrigues as part of our team." He beams at me then turns a relieved glance back to Marco.

I smile back and nod slightly in return.

When he shuts the door, Marco rounds on me. "Time?."

"Five." I say, gathering up my things and standing to shake his hand. His palm is warm and his grip slightly too tight. His hand flexes on mine, pulling me just a little closer like someone considering not letting go.

His eyes darkened as they skim all the way down my body and up again. I am hit with a sudden memory of how his hands feel when they are doing the same thing and my breath starts coming in quick staccatos.

It has taken only thirty minutes for him to take me from horrified to horny. That has got to be a new record for the books.

I should probably be worried about that, but I'm not. He is a beautiful, dark musician, and I am the instrument that is enthralled with the way he can play me. It may be wrong, but the music is beautiful.

He bends low over my hand, brushing his lips over my knuckles.

"Till I see you again." He nods his head, that arrogant smirk curling the corner of his mouth as he rises to walk out of the room.

"Wait, why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Clear the room."

"Ah..." He nodes, thoughtfully. "You would have been great at the presentation, I know that, but my presence here was an unexpected burden. I didn't think it was fair for you to have to shoulder that alone." He winks and walks out the door.

"Till I see you again." I murmur to his already retreating form.

When he is gone, I slump back into my chair with an audible sound of relief.

I close my eyes trying to calm down my erratic pulse and whirling thoughts.

This man will probably break my heart, and definitely change my world. There is also a remote possibility he could be dangerous, although I can't put my finger on exactly why. Oh well, every girl needs at least one bad boy in their life. Right?

I would have time to figure that out later. Right now, I need to figure out what I am going to tell the board.

In the past, I would have slunk from this room, embarrassed and slightly dazed, probably stuttering as I tried to give a report of what happened to the others. Then I would have ducked out at lunch and never came back.

I stare at the blurry reflection of myself in the glossy board room table, it is still the same image looking back as the one in the mirror this morning. Then I turn behind me to see the board members and Alfred start to gather in the hall. They are waiting on me.

I turn back to the table, the image isn't clear but I can still make out the red of my lips and the gold of my curls. I take a deep breath laying two shaking hands against the cool surface of the table and replay my morning in my head.

A slow smile starts to make its way tentatively across my face. It hasn't been so bad.

Sure, I have almost fallen on my face with a little help from Alfred, but I had got the account in the end.

And the guy.

Yeah, okay, the method is a little unorthodox but the end result is good. No one can complain about that, I had just landed a multimillion dollar contract.

The smile grew wider.

I am still the girl who can talk shit in elevators and drive men crazy on wire backed chairs.

I could totally do this. I push away from the desk with both hands and start rehearsing the opening lines of the story I am about tell as I make my way to the door and towards the restless crowd beyond it. This will be a walk in the park after my weekend. After all, it's not like I'm doing it naked.

Grin.

Author Note: I have left the relationship between Danielle and Marco open to continue outside of the reader's direct line of vision. It is my thoughts that you will see their relationship again in the future through other stories. I am considering doing a spin off series where each girl in the group (the girls you see in the first chapter of Mr. F) will have her turn at the Mr. Fuckability contest. If done well, you will not only see the adventure of each girl, but updates to the progression of the relationship between Marco and Danielle. As always, thanks for reading.

-S