Devil In A Suit (Book One) by Ivy Carter

Author:Ivy Carter [Carter, Ivy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Favor Ford Publishing
Published: 2016-09-17T21:00:00+00:00

Don’t be late.

Chapter 3

I charge the lingerie to his account, trying to overlook the fact that Jared King even has an account at Délicat. That perhaps he’s done this before.

In all likelihood with another employee, someone I know or have seen around the office.

I don’t care. Tonight he’s doing it with me. And the thrill it gives me both turns me on and frightens me.

Because what exactly are we doing? That’s the question that keeps running through my head on a continuous loop while Mr. King’s — Jared’s — driver takes me back to my apartment to “get ready.” I have a black bag perched on my lap, my — my — new lingerie folded in tissue paper and tucked into a gold box inside, a black satin ribbon so soft it looks likes blank ink, tied around the top. The final total? $1,250. Which is exactly what I pay for my not-very-nice studio apartment.

The car glides to a stop in front of my apartment in Somerville, a shabby building with peeling white siding that does not look a like a place where a luxury car often stops. Even though I reach to open my own door, the driver is out of the car and opening it for me before I can make it.

“I will be back to pick you up at 8pm, Miss Carson,” he says, his face professionally impassive.

“Thank you,” I reply.

I climb the four flights to my apartment with my shoes in my hand until I reach the door of my tiny studio, which faces an alley. Even with the walk-up and the dank, dark view, I can still just barely afford. Sure, my salary at King Advertising is decent, but it’s still an entry-level job, and I’ve just begun starting to pay off my massive student loans from Boston University.

I toss my purse on the floor near the door and gently place the Délicat bag on the card table in the kitchen. The clock on the oven reads 5:30pm, giving me just over two and a half hours to “get ready,” per Jared’s instructions. Whatever that means. I glance at the black bag and realized it might take me that long just to get back into the bra, panties, and corset. But there’s something I need to do first.

My laptop is sitting on my coffee table, a scratch-and-dent purchase from IKEA, sitting in front of the shabby floral couch from my parents’ basement in Worcester. I open it and pull up a fresh Google search page and type in Jared’s name.

For having such a common name, he comes up immediately. The first page of search results are all him. I guess that’s what comes of being a billionaire bachelor. No one is going to mistake you for Jared King the plumber from Nebraska.

The first hit is the company website, which of course I’ve scoured top to bottom. I’d done my fair share of research on the company before I interviewed for the job. Founded four years ago and quickly grew to be the biggest firm in Boston, third largest on the East Coast.

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