Read Online Beyond Bliss by Delia Foster - Free Book Online

it wisely."
    Sophie gave her a dour look. "He is not getting my vagina—again," she amended at Liz's incredulous hoot.
    "Sophie, my child, you are not listening to me. You don't give it, that's the whole point. You tempt and then giveth not. Guaranteed to drive him nuts. You might as well try to have fun with this."
    Liz's insane words slowly sank in. She looked at her friend thoughtfully. "You know what? I'm probably going to regret this, but you may be onto something. Where do we start?"
    Liz squealed and clapped her hands. "Step one: shopping. I'll explain the rest as we go."

Chapter Eight
    His offices were stunning.
    The morning following the disastrous reveal, she walked into the high rise in Midtown East. As she walked up to the security desk, an older man with white hair smiled widely.
    "Miss Harlow, we've been expecting you."
    No surprise that he knew her name already. Lucas Sinclair was anything if not thorough.
    But that wasn't the security guard's fault. She smiled back, the stretch of her lips across her teeth belying the anxiety she felt.
    Forget butterflies crashing in her stomach, these were straight up bald eagles fighting for space.
    "Here's your building badge. You'll take the first elevator up to the fiftieth floor, and then use your badge on the access point right before the double glass doors. The access point should beep, and the light will turn green. There's a reception desk inside. Rosie, the receptionist will direct you from there."
    Her eyes fell to the badge she clutched with a death grip. She started when she saw her own smiling face staring up at her from the badge.
    It was the same photo she'd had on her security badge at the firm.
    Thorough.
    The poor, smiling fool in the photo clearly had no idea what her future had in store for her. If she had, there would have been a scowl gracing her face. She sighed deeply, before thanking him.
    His eyes crinkled at the corners. "It'll be okay, Miss Harlow. You'll see."
    She had no idea why she took comfort in what he said, but she did. She looked at the small silver name badge on his uniform.
    "Thank you, Fred. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of one another." She bestowed a slightly less strained smile before she followed his directions.
    It was early still, right before seven thirty. She'd come in earlier than her normal start time, hoping to familiarize herself with enemy territory before she had to face the man himself.
    The elevator doors pinged open, and she stepped inside. The interior of the elevator was all mirrors. She studied her reflection as it traveled up to the fiftieth floor, cringing.
    Her usual style was conservative by nature. Normally, she wore her suits a size larger. Not only was it comfortable, but also it concealed her figure.
    In a professional environment, that was important.
    Or at least it had been.
    The night before, Liz had dragged her into Bergdorf's with glee. They'd used her personal shopper and several hours later she walked out with both a skimpier wardrobe and wallet. She was positive there were tears in her eyes when she'd seen the ridiculous amount of money she’d spent. Nonetheless, she’d signed the credit card slip.
    No turning back now.
    She still sported a suit but it looked vastly different than her usual get up. The dark, navy pencil skirt hugged her hips before stopping short several inches above her knees. The suit jacket was the same color and it was so fitted, it looked like it had been tailor-made for her body. Underneath, she wore a blush pink silk camisole, only a hint of lace peeked out from where she'd left the top button of the jacket undone. Liz insisted she wear sheer stockings, garters, and insanely high nude pumps.
    “What you can’t see is just as important as what you can,” she’d said. “Plus, it will make you feel sexier.”
    “I’m going to break my neck in these heels.”
    “Well, if you land on the floor, make sure you hike up your skirt so he can see the garter.”
    “You’re