Page 21 of Corporate Plaything

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Anna’s eyes drifted to Justin’s clean-cut hair. Even though he wore it short, his hair thick and lustrous with shine. “So your father is Dutch?”

“Dutch? Where did you get that from?”

“Matt said you came from Netherland.”

“Netherworld.”

Funny. She had checked the world map and she couldn’t find a country called such. “I’ve never heard of a country called Netherworld, sir. I thought you were French.”

Justin gestured carelessly. “We changed our names once we arrived in America. Our birth names are too hard to pronounce in the human tongue.”

Wait, did he just say human tongue?

“Kidding.” Justin pinched her chin. “You look too cute when you frown like that.”

Ah. Another part of Justin she didn’t expect to see. He had a refreshing sense of humour, besides being the gentlest man she had ever met in person. Behind his business-like facade, Justin was tender and attentive.

If his brother Matt awakened her inner submissive and made her eager to please his every whim, Justin made her feel comfortable and secure. She’d spent the last three nights with him, and the one thing that amazed her the most was that Justin liked to cuddle. Men didn’t usually like to cuddle. After they got what they wanted, men usually snored themselves asleep. At least, that had been her experience with Ned.

But Justin, he was different. He held her in his arms for hours after their lovemaking each night. And kissed her. Touched her. Told her stories about his childhood that were too farfetched to be true. Like he and his brothers lived in a place so big, they had their own armoury, and their father commanded an army of men who practiced sword-fighting every sunrise. But then again, maybe Netherworld was a neighbouring country of Netherland, where people there still followed the old customs. Justin Martel was a wonderful man to be with, despite his odd childhood remembrances.

Guilt gnawed at the pit of her stomach each time she thought of the past few days she’d spent with Matt and Justin. They’d given her pleasure, comfort and luxury she had never thought of tasting in her life, and she was going to repay them by stealing their secret formula. Anna felt low and dejected. Living a lie was harder than she thought.

“What’s wrong?” Justin noticed she had been frowning even more.

Anna shook the guilt away. “Nothing, sir.”

“You can tell me anything. Your well-being is important to us.”

Anna mourned in silence. How was she supposed to tell him that a syndicate was blackmailing her and her father? Just a few hours ago after they landed in the airport, she checked her inbox and saw a nasty email from Koleniskov, telling her that the head honcho of Beautycor wasn’t pleased with the slow progress she was making. They wanted that secret formula now, especially since the syndicate had found out that Justin had discontinued Surrender from future production. The price of existing Surrender had soared like wildfire on Internet auction sites. Many of the Martels’ competitors were itching to fill in the retail gap. And whoever got their hands on the Martels’ secret formula would be guaranteed set for life.

Besides, it wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to look where the brothers could be hiding that secret formula. Since Matt had granted her access to their internal SAS programme, she’d been scouring all confidential info that could lead her to what she was looking for. She even installed a little Trojan programme in Justin’s computer to spy on his virtual activity. If the Trojan found anything related to Surrender, the programme sent a streaming report to her own laptop.

After spying on their network for a while, Anna had found out that Surrender was produced in small batches in their factory in New Jersey. Just before it was bottled, Matt or Justin would come to the factory and add the secret ingredients into the concoction—the key ingredients that would make Surrender’s wearer temporarily irresistible. She tried to trace the suppliers of Surrender and so far she had hit a brick wall. It looked like Matt or Justin didn’t even list those secret ingredients in their all-in-one accounting programme, or any file in their network. The trade secret remained secret and she was undoubtedly the worst corporate spy in history.

I just need more time. Maybe, I can get Justin or Matt to slip something out. Anna shook her head. “It’s nothing, sir. It’s just jet lag.”

“You poor thing.” Justin pulled her into his arms. “Take a rest. It will be another half hour before we get to our hotel. Did I wring you out with all those bunny fucks?”

Hardly. She enjoyed the wild sex but couldn’t take the guilt. She rested her head on Justin’s chest and fingered her slave collar. She loved being his plaything. Their plaything. If she’d got this job under different circumstances, she would have the best job in the world.

“I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.”

Justin kissed the top of her head. “Try a little nap, sharime. I think you’ll love the hotel we’re going to. Kanagawa isn’t far.”

Anna closed her eyes, clutching Justin’s jacket. She wished she could tell him everything. The guilt had turned into full-blown remorse. God, she hated lying.

Hated it. Hated it. Hated it.

* * * *

Anna looked pleasantly surprised with the hotel they were going to stay in over the weekend. “How neat,” she exclaimed.

“It called ryokan, the traditional Japanese inn. I thought you might enjoy something outside of the box.”

“I do.”

The driver unloaded their baggage from the trunk and hauled them in front of the ryokan’s main entrance.


Tags: Lizzie Lynn Lee Erotic