The Dare Read online

  Colton takes the stage next. “Thank you as well, Allan. As I’m sure you understand, I feel that a global presence is the best way to proceed with our HQ2, and though it might seem obvious, I assure you that I considered the globe over before deciding that London would be best for Fox. It’s a big request to have employees drop everything and travel abroad on such short notice, especially when everyone is so chock-a-block with their own work. Travel can be rather costly for the company, too.” The dig against my dad is subtle but there. “So I’ve taken a slightly different approach from Daniel.” Or not so subtle.

  I sigh, thinking that I only thought I was making headway in their battle. Dad’s sitting beside me again, his speech done, and he places his hand on mine reassuringly. He’s not offended by Colton’s speech in the least.

  “As to my team. First, I’d like to thank Helen Riggs. She is the whip cracker who keeps my office running, and as such, I’d like her to remain here in my stead to keep everything tip top. I wouldn’t trust the day-to-day to anyone else, but in her capable hands, I have no doubt it’ll be in good care.” People clap for Helen, and I start to feel a pit in my stomach.

  “And as there is a significant time difference between London and HQ, I think that having the full-scale court won’t be necessary. I can work during the London day, and as I wrap up, I can tag-team off to the US group, allowing for round-the-clock progress. For the US group, I’d like to invite Gary England from legal. Can’t go wrong with a bloke named England for this particular project, can I?”

  People clap as Gary waves. “And Debra Stevens from engineering.” Debra is no-nonsense, a former Marine who’s well-known for her efficiency. She receives a round of applause as well.

  “And last but not least, I will need someone who can be at the ready to handle anything and put up with me.” He flashes his charming smile, and everyone laughs at the self-deprecation. “A jack of all trades, if you will, who can coordinate between me and the US group. Someone up for the challenge this daring endeavor requires . . .”

  Oh, God. Oh, no. He can’t. I can’t.

  “I’d like to invite Elle Stryker to visit the proposed site in London. Pack your bags, Miss Stryker. We leave on Monday.”

  “What!” Dad hisses, and suddenly, everyone’s looking at me. I hold it together while their eyes are on me, but Dad looks like he’s turning purple next to me. He wants to say something, to demand that Colton not take me, but he can’t.

  Colton’s hemmed him in, and Dad knows it. Tiffany, on the other hand, is applauding like mad, whistling like a baseball fan in the stands until my face is flushed with embarrassment.

  Mr. Fox takes the microphone back, saying something else, but I can’t hear him. I just hear the whispers around the room about what type of help I’ll be. The sneered implication of why Colton selected me and only me is obvious, and what’s worse is that I can’t even deny it.

  Colton goes back to his table, far enough away that I can’t see what he’s saying to the group of people who greet him with smiles as he sits down. But I don’t miss the smirk he throws my way. Even from across the room, I know this was his surprise, and the dare to not argue about this and to actually go with him is loud and clear.

  “Absolutely not,” Dad growls. “No fucking way.”

  “What a great opportunity,” Tiffany counters, on my side even against Dad.

  I blink and my brain starts functioning again. “Dad, Colton named me to his team, which is what I’m working on with him. It only makes sense for me to go. You’re taking your assistant too.”

  Logic pings off him like Nerf darts, though, leaving no trace of a mark of reason.

  “You’ll politely decline and work with the US team here,” Dad says, his voice firm but low. “Elle, you’re not going anywhere with Colton Wolfe. And that’s final.”

  So much for the progress we made earlier. Dad’s back to treating me like I’m a kid again. And though it might seem like I’m being ornery just to needle him, I’m truly not. This is a great opportunity.

  For some daring fun in London with Colton!

  I hush the devil that’s sending fizzy champagne bubbles to both my brain and my lady bits and force myself to focus.

  HQ2. London. My chance to shine professionally.

  Chapter 17

  Colton

  That went well, better than expected, judging by the congratulatory handshake Allan gave me as I left the stage. And the triumph tastes sweet. It’s preliminary, one step of many to come, but I’m going to celebrate the progress.

  And I made sure I was looking directly at Daniel Stryker as I dropped the bomb that I was hand-selecting his daughter, and only his daughter, to accompany me to London.

  He looked ready to lose his cool, even more than when he confronted me in the lift.

  And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. For him to protest now . . . well, that’s just bad form. It’d paint him in a bad light, as an overprotective father and a poor sport, while also torpedoing Elle’s career at the company, something he doesn’t want to do, either.

  I fully expect him to have another play here, something to counter me, but I think he’ll play it close to the chest so he can keep it mum. Most likely leveraging Elle herself.

  Leaving the garden party, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see Elle’s name.

  Elle: You should’ve asked me first.

  Me: This way seemed more fun, more daring, I suppose.

  She doesn’t answer for a moment, and I climb behind the wheel of my Lotus. I wonder if maybe Daniel has already made his play and I’ve come out on the losing side. At least with Elle. The jury is still out on the proposals.

  The drive home is quick, but upstairs, it’s quiet, too quiet, really. Like my office when she was downstairs, my penthouse seemed a lot fuller when she was here with me.

  Elle: Dad’s furious. I’m furious.

  Me: Which is more important to you? Your wishes or your father’s?

  Elle: Both.

  Me: I won’t apologize for giving you an opportunity to grow. Neither Gary nor Debra knew about being assigned to my team, yet neither of them is texting me pouty messages.

  Elle: GIF of a shovel digging a deeper hole.

  Me: Be at the office at ten in the morning if you’re going. We have a lot to do. If not, I’ll inform Ms. Carter of your return to her group.

  It’s a line in the sand for us both.

  If we proceed, I need her fully committed because this trip is going to be revealing, as well as decidedly important to my potential future at Fox. I need to know that she can be discreet and help me frame this option in the best light, without shying away from the reality of my life in London. And she needs to make the decision to put her own needs and desires, both personal and professional, over her father’s demands.

  If she elects to take the easy path and bow out, I will have my answer about our fun as well as our potential work partnership. Elle will eventually have another opportunity. She’s too intelligent not to, but it won’t be at the expense of my own dream.

  I would truly hate to leave her behind. She’s already become less of a novelty and more of a fixture in my mind, an injection of freshness to my days. But the choice is hers to make.

  Having gotten ready for bed while we texted, I shut off the light, not really knowing if she’s going to come or not. For all I know, she’s going to march in and tell me she’s going to obey Daddy Dearest’s commands.

  I’ll be disappointed if she does. Hell, I’m disappointed that she’s not next to me right now. I cup my cock, still unsatisfied even after last night’s wank. It, like me, wants the real thing . . . Elle, not the fantasy of her I imagined as I fisted myself after her teasing and tormenting.

  I almost text her again. If we can’t figure out the work stuff, perhaps we could focus on the dares? I could dare her to come over, maybe sway her mind while I sway her body?

  My cock jumps hopefully at the idea, but my mind overrides my baser i
mpulses. Elle needs time tonight to make this decision. And while I could probably get her to agree to just about anything while holding her on the edge of an orgasm, I want her to decide clear-headed. She needs to know that she’s capable of standing tall and handling all of this—her father and me, and most importantly, herself.

  I’m just getting my Sunday started the next day when my phone beeps, and I look up from my desk, rubbing at my eyes. I must have been gathering wool. It’s nearly nine forty-five, and I’ve already been at work for over an hour. But my phone’s still dinging as if I have a video call coming in.

  “Whoever you are, I hope you . . . Lizzie?”

  “Wotcher, Coltie!” Lizzie says, grinning. “How’s it hanging, as the Yanks say?”

  Her accent immediately takes me home. Here, in the US, everyone thinks I have an accent, but the truth is, I’ve lost some of it from talking to Americans every day. But Lizzie sounds like home. I tease her, wanting her riled up because it makes her accent even thicker. With everything going on, I want to wrap up in the dropped consonants and let the soft elegance wash over me.

  “You don’t need to know, and it’s Sunday morning,” I reply with a yawn. “Please tell me you forgot the time difference and aren’t just calling to torture me?”

  Lizzie giggles, shaking her head. “You’re getting old, Coltie. Sunday morning? You used to just be getting home at that time, and by the look of things, I haven’t woken you. Are you at work already? Don’t you take the weekends off?”

  “Hmph. I am not old, and yes, I’m at work. Americans don’t take off. You can even get fresh-baked cupcakes here in the middle of the night, from a bakery ATM. It’s madness.”

  Lizzie laughs, and behind her, I can see she’s sitting in her bed at home, probably enjoying a weekend without school. “That sounds lovely. I think I’d fancy a cupcake right about now.” She shakes her head. “Anyway . . . good news, I got top marks on my exams!”

  “That’s great! I’ve got good news too . . . but it’s a surprise.”

  Lizzie pouts, her good cheer evaporating. “Ah, that’s rubbish! I get enough surprises with Mum going on and on about her stupid charity galas and what her friends’ daughters are up to.”

  I laugh lightly as though she’s joking, but she won’t meet my eyes, even through the screen. “Lizzie, you okay?”

  She falls back against her pillow, sighing heavily and rolling her eyes. “I’m fine. Eddie’s just being a right cunt, and there are some stupid boys saying . . . what’s that slang you taught me? Oh, yeah, smack talking.” Even the silly American phrase seems to brighten her mood slightly.

  “Eddie’s always going to be Eddie. Nothing you or I can do about him." I roll my eyes the same way Lizzie did because it’s the god’s honest truth. Our brother is a douche canoe. I consider teaching Lizzie that word too, but I’m not sure enough of the exact definition other than it’s an insult, but it makes me laugh. Perhaps I’ll save it for when I actually get to London, a vocabulary lesson surprise.

  “But the neighborhood boys are different. That shouldn’t happen, Lizzie. Tell Mom or the school. Or if it’s that bad, send Nan to talk to their parents. I bet they’d behave straight away if Nan pinched their ears and dragged them home to Mummy.”

  She laughs, but I make a mental note to check on these boys while I’m home. I might be thousands of miles away, but a big brother always protects his little sister.

  Lizzie suddenly sits up, grabbing her computer and bringing her face close enough to the camera that I get a clear view up her nose. “Hey, Coltie? Who’s that?”

  Lizzie’s pointing behind me, and I turn, nearly jumping out of my skin when I see Elle standing in my doorway. “Oh, uh . . . my assistant,” I tell Lizzie quickly. “Hard at work, you know.”

  “She’s cute.”

  I feel heat prickling at my neck, and I shake my head. “Yes, well, I should get back to work, Lizzie. I’ll call you soon, yes?”

  “Okay, okay. Ta, Coltie! Ta, Assistant!”

  Lizzie rings off with a smirk, and I put my phone down, inwardly groaning. I don’t know how much Elle just heard, but Lizzie’s going to be primed for matchmaking when we arrive in London. I’ll have to set her straight right away.

  “Mr. Wolfe,” Elle says in greeting. There’s no one here to overhear her calling me by my first name, no one to question the intimacy of that, so her formality screams ‘I’m still mad.’

  “Decided I would dress casual today. If the company won’t do casual Fridays, then casual Sundays are a must.”

  She’s daring me with her eyes to reprimand her, but I reward her instead, letting my eyes drip slow as molasses from her head to her toes. She’s wearing a T-shirt with some sort of line drawing of a cat, black jeans, and fashionable trainers. With her hair pulled up and her glasses on, she looks like she would be right at home on any college campus or any of the dozen coffee bars within a stone’s throw of here.

  “That’s fine. I went casual as well.” I’m looking for common ground, but Elle snorts.

  “That is not casual.” She points at me derisively, and I get up from my chair, walking to the front of my desk with my arms outstretched so she can get the full effect.

  I perch on the edge of my desk, running the backs of my hands down my polo shirt before slipping them into the pockets of my chinos. “Not a suit, not formal attire, not athletic gear, not pajamas, though I don’t wear those, as you know.” Elle hisses, her eyes narrowing. “Ergo, casual. My shirt’s not even properly tucked in.”

  Her eyes drop to my waist, as I knew they would, where the front of my shirt is simply tucked behind my belt. “You have on a belt.”

  “Ah, a belt implies that the outfit is no longer casual. I see, my mistake.” I unbuckle the expensive leather, pulling it from the loops with a swoosh. “Now then, casual.”

  This banter is not what I expected, not at all. I expected anger or excitement, perhaps resignation. But even this mildly adversarial disagreement is fun. Elle seems to agree because even as she nips and bites verbally, her lips are quirking adorably.

  I think we need to address the elephant in the room, though.

  “To be honest, I’m glad you’re here at all, regardless of your attire. Though you look lovely. A little nagging voice in my head last night said you wouldn’t show.”

  “I figured I owed you an answer one way or another in person,” Elle tells me, sitting on the edge of her desk. I wonder if she’s intentionally mirroring me, putting us on equal ground, or if she did it naturally, instinctually. She has so many layers I want to delve into and decipher and help her develop. “And I’ll admit, you really fucked up my sleep last night. I’m running on about three hours’ shut-eye and two espressos right now.”

  “Let me guess . . . one part of you knows that this is a great opportunity, a chance for you to get in on the ground floor of a project that could quickly vault your career if things go right. And as though that’s not enough, there’s also the promise that we can continue exploring what we’ve already started.”

  Elle shifts, her hips wiggling from side to side a little at my comment.

  “To be clear, those do not have to go hand-in-hand. Either can be exclusive of the other if that’s your wish. Though I find I’m rather enjoying our blend of work and play.”

  I purposefully cup my cock, rearranging myself, and Elle’s eyes track the movement hungrily.

  She is still mad, but she’s also still as needy as I am to address the fire we built but never put out properly.

  “Perhaps. But my father—”

  “And there’s the other part. The daughter, who her father wants to remain his little girl, safe and secure by his side, protected from the big, bad Wolfe.”

  Elle nods. “His first words were that he flat out forbade me from going. I’m honestly glad that my passport’s locked in my fire safe at home. He looked like he could have broken into my place and stolen it otherwise.”

  I smile, enjoying that Daniel is on edg
e, not just because of the HQ2 proposals, as I’d originally intended, but because I think the growing pains between father and daughter might be good for them too. Good for all of us.

  “So, you know what your dad wants you to do. You know what I want you to do. The only question is . . . what do you want to do? And do you have the guts to follow through with any of those options?”

  I’m calling into question her boldness, something I know she prides herself on but something she’s currently wavering on.

  “I won’t dare you on this. You need to decide.”

  She looks disappointed, as if she was hoping she could fall back on me or Tiffany daring her to go. But I won’t allow her to throw that at me if everything implodes. We’re either going together because she wants to accompany me, or I’m going alone because she’s chosen not to go.

  She wants to say yes. I can see it in her face, in her body language . . . she wants to go with me. She wants what I promise her, namely, her freedom.

  “Tell you what,” I interrupt her loud thoughts. “Don’t think about Daniel today. In fact, don’t even give me an answer until we’re done with today’s work. Just think about how much you could learn, how great an opportunity this is, and even how much fun you’ll have.”

  I close the distance between us, pressing myself between her knees. She gasps, her thighs clenching, not to keep me away but to hold me in place against her. The breathy sound of her gasp hitches when she realizes that I’m hard, aching for her. “Colton . . . the office . . .”

  “Is empty. It’s just us for now.”

  Slowly, giving her time to stop me, I lower my lips toward her. But she doesn’t stop me. In fact, she licks her lips in preparation, and that’s all the permission I need to kiss her. I cup her jaw, sipping at her gently until she opens for me.

  She arches, trying to deepen the kiss, but I stay right on the edge of polite snogging, stoking her fire. After a moment, I pull back, tracing her kiss-plumped lip with my thumb.