Corporate Plaything Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Corporate Plaything

  ISBN #978-0-85715-475-0

  ©Copyright Lizzie Lynn Lee 2011

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright February 2011

  Edited by Andrea Grimm

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content, which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-melting.

  CORPORATE PLAYTHING

  Lizzie Lynn Lee

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  James Bond: Ian Fleming

  Porsche: Porsche Automobil Holding SE

  Chapter One

  People said the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Anna Vincent realised the irony when she finally saw Justin Martel for the first time for a job interview. She sat in a piece of modern art contraption that was supposed to be a chair and mourned in silence at how fate loved playing her cruel jokes. Here she was, doing what her father did, which had ultimately put him in the hot seat.

  Her old man was a computer whiz, a loving father, and the only family she had. A decent, good man his whole life until his friend lured him into a get-rich-quick scheme. The friend turned out to be a cyber-mobster and the scam was intended to extort her father into an even bigger scam. To add insult to injury, the syndicate had also blackmailed her too, to play spy in order to get ‘a secret formula’ from the Martel brothers just because she was also a prodigy with any machine that had a CPU in it.

  If her father was a lousy hacker, then why did the syndicate think she’d be good at playing corporate spy? Anyhow, she didn’t have a choice. With his health problems, her father wouldn’t survive in jail.

  Anna glanced furtively at her interviewer and his brother Raphael who sat near the window. Raphael did nothing but ogle her after she was seated. It was unnerving.

  Minutes passed in silence as Justin pored over her résumé. Anna had seen his photos plastered across the tabloids and magazines in recent years, and she had to admit he looked even better in person. He and his two brothers had recently been crowned as the sexiest men alive and they all lived up to the title. Their mouth-watering beauty bordered on unreal.

  According to her source, the Martels’ publicist had insisted that being indistinguishable triplets might not be the best campaign tactic since they wanted to sell their individual personalities to the public. And so, to tell the brothers apart from one another, the publicist suggested they wear coloured contacts. Justin would be the one with violet eyes, Raphael with blue, and Matt stayed with their natural eye colour of deep sea green.

  As Anna studied Justin closely, she thought those gorgeous irises of his looked as if they were his natural ones. His large, almond-shaped eyes were shielded with dark, lush lashes that complimented his refined features and sensuous lips. His lightly tanned skin looked like caramel tempered in sunshine.

  Anna unconsciously swallowed, pushing away the thought of licking him to see if he was as delicious as he looked. A burst of shame surfaced afterward. What am I doing? She pinched herself hard. Focus. Get the job.

  She’d heard that Justin and his brothers were notorious Casanovas. Falling for these sex fiends was the last thing she should do.

  Justin peered at her from above the edge of the papers then set them down carefully. “You have an impressive résumé, Miss Vincent. However…”

  Her heart sank as he continued.

  “…we’re not looking for someone of your calibre at the moment.”

  Her hope shattered into pieces. She thought of her father who would have to spend the rest of his life in jail just because he was naive enough not to know that helping his friend recover access to some misplaced bank accounts was equal to larceny.

  Her father had been duped. With the evidence in their hands, the syndicate had threatened Anna. If she was unwilling to do their dirty job, they would turn her father over to the Feds. Those bank accounts her father had hacked belonged to the US government. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that kind of crime carried a hefty punishment. And getting a job at the Martel design house was the only way to buy her father’s freedom.

  Now, how was she supposed to get her hands on that formula if she couldn’t get close to one of the brothers? Anna unconsciously twisted her fingers until they were all white, thinking that perhaps she might still be able to salvage the situation. “If I may ask, sir, what kind of qualification do you expect for this personal assistant vacancy?”

  That earned her a wolfish smile from Justin. If he looked like a reserved young businessman before, now he looked like a big, bad wolf that couldn’t wait to eat her whole in one bite.

  He drummed his long, tapered fingers on the glassy surface of his desk, and his gaze bore down on her with such intensity that all of a sudden, she felt the air around her thinning. She felt as if she were falling under the spell of his hypnotic eyes.

  “Let me ask you something. How did you find out about this job anyway? As I recall, my brothers and I were just joking to our colleague that we need our own personal assistant.”

  “From Marian Bancroft’s secretary, sir.” Bancroft was the Martels’ publicist. The syndicate had ordered her to approach Bancroft to see if she could get Anna close to the Martels. When Bancroft’s secretary mentioned that the brothers needed a personal assistant to manage their busy schedule, Anna jumped on it as her chance to get into the Martels’ lair.

  “Ah.” Justin leant back in his chair. He glanced at his brother, Raphael, who was sitting near the window, and traded a conspiratory grin.

  Unlike Justin, with his clean-cut hair and meticulously crisp expensive suit, Raphael was the true personification of the bad boy image. His onyx hair fell just below his ears and the muscle tee he wore revealed the perfect body underneath.

  Anna had seen him dressed only in his underwear in one of the gossip magazine’s shots. His sex appeal made her dizzy. Rumour had it he could make a woman wet in five seconds flat.

  “Actually, we’re looking for a different type of personal assistant,” Justin announced.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, just tell her the truth.” Raphael rose from his seat and stalked over to her with the gait of a predator. He sat on Justin’s desk and cast her a smile that rivalled his brother’s. “We’re looking for a fuck doll. A plaything. Someone to manage our personal life and also warm our bed.”

  Fuck doll? Plaything? Warm their bed? Those words! Were they even possible to be strung together in the same sentence without sugar-coating the perverseness in their actual meaning? Fire burned in her cheeks when Raphael’s words fully sank into h
er brain.

  “Of course, we’re prepared to offer the right candidate a generous compensation,” Justin added, slipping into his businessman’s persona again.

  Anna gulped hard. “How much money are we talking here?”

  “Two million dollars for a one-year contract. All expenses paid. Wardrobe and accessories to polish your image to fit our standard would also be provided. Also, medical benefits and the possibility of a generous year-end bonus if your performance meets our expectations.”

  Good lord. That was a whole freaking lot of money. Her father had been promised fifty grand to help his friend-turned-syndicate, and he’d done it because she was having trouble paying off her student loans. College was so damned expensive nowadays. “I-I really need this job.” Anna managed an excuse, which wasn’t far from the truth. “I need the money to pay my debts.”

  Justin and Raphael grinned in symphony.

  Somehow, the image of two big, bad wolves and she as the juicy meat they couldn’t wait to sink their teeth into flashed in her mind.

  “Are you saying you’re interested in being our fuck doll, Miss Vincent?” Justin asked her to the point.

  She froze. Could she do this? She wasn’t sexually adventurous. A prude, her friends had called her. In all her twenty-six years of her life, she had only slept with one man—her high-school boyfriend. And it hadn’t been as exciting as her friends had clamoured about, either. Sex was highly overrated.

  Anna sucked in her breath and answered bravely. “Y-yes.”

  “Are you sure?” Justin asked again. Maybe he’d noticed the hesitation in her voice.

  Anna made up her mind. “I need this job, Mr. Martel.” And that formula. She then realised something that made her self-confidence slide down a few notches. “But I suppose you’d be looking for a pretty girl for this position.”

  “Now, now. Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself?”

  Justin’s answer surprised her.

  “We’re looking for a certain quality in our candidate,” he continued.

  “What kind of quality?”

  “Would you like to take the test?”

  Anna couldn’t imagine what kind of test these men had in mind. Knowing their infamous reputation, she was sure it wouldn’t involve algebra or world history. The Martels were notorious players. And being the walking, talking, wet dreams they were, any woman they set their eyes on was rumoured to fall easily into their bed.

  “Y-yes,” she answered.

  Justin contemplated for a second. “Ralph?”

  Raphael winked. “I’ll get Matt.” He went out and came back a few minutes later.

  Anna slipped into uneasiness when she caught Matt’s eyes. He was absolutely different than his flirtatious brothers. Her first impression about him was that this man was dangerous. His hawk-like stare seemed to penetrate her deepest soul and expose what she really was. A sliver of panic started to creep into her mind. Could he see through her deception? The very reason she strayed into these sex fiends’ lair?

  Matt sauntered behind his brother’s desk and folded his arms in front of his chest. Like Justin, he was also dressed in an impeccably neat business suit. But there was a warrior aura plastered all over him. He had this lush, raven hair that was so long, it draped over his shoulders, behind his back, and stopped just below his elbows. If he traded his suit with leather pants and a broadsword, he would look like the stereotypical barbarians from the cheesy romance covers.

  “This is Miss Anna Vincent and she wants to take the test. What do you think, Matt?” Justin asked his opinion.

  “Frumpy.”

  Goddamn. That man wouldn’t make his future wife happy if he couldn’t tell a little white lie.

  Matt came to her side. “What’s up with these glasses?” He plucked them off her nose before she could shout a protest.

  “I-I can’t see well without my glasses.”

  “Get contacts.” Matt’s eyes narrowed as he examined her clothes. “Are you a librarian?”

  “N-no.”

  “A school teacher?”

  “No.”

  “A government worker?”

  “No.” Irritation sliced through her. “What is this all about?”

  “You have a terrible sense of fashion.”

  Figures. She’d momentarily forgotten whom she was speaking to. Not everybody could afford the Martels’ two-thousand-dollar women’s suits. Hers came from a discount store and that was the only thing she could afford.

  “Take your clothes off,” Matt ordered.

  “Excuse me?”

  Justin piped in this time. “Do you still want to take the test?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Well then.”

  Why, of course. No algebra or world history trivia. She should have known. Anna swallowed a lungful of air as her stomach coiled in a tight knot. I can do this. Just pretend they are all potted plants. Dumb potted plants.

  She rose from her seat like a zombie and half-heartedly shrugged off her tweed jacket. Three pair of eyes scrutinised her every move. Her hands trembled when she unbuttoned her shirt, one by one. Their gaze intensified, she could swear they started searing her skin.

  Anna paused before she pulled her shirt off. She didn’t dare look around to see their reaction. She was beyond embarrassed. The last time she’d removed her clothes in front of a man was with her high-school boyfriend. Ned had got so excited as soon as she took her clothes off, he’d jumped on her before she could shed her panties down her ankles properly and humped her vigorously for twenty seconds before it was all over. Now, Anna remembered why she thought sex was highly overrated.

  “White cotton bra,” Matt commented with disdain in his voice. “How dreadful.”

  “I think it’s kind of cute,” Raphael noted.

  “Does it match your panties?” Matt wanted to know. He wriggled his finger and motioned her to lose the skirt.

  Anna wanted to ask if he wore matching underwear with his undershirt, too. On second thought, he probably did. Damn designer. She unhooked the clasp on the back of her skirt and pulled the zipped down. The dull, grey tweed skirt pooled around her ankles.

  Matt shook his head. “Black bikini?”

  Anna scolded him. “Well, excuse me. If I knew my job interview would include stripping, I would’ve put on something presentable.”

  Raphael laughed. “I like her. She’s got spunk.”

  “We’re not looking for a spunky girl. We want a fuck doll.” Matt’s jaw hardened.

  Anna caught Matt’s warning. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Take your undergarments off. Your stockings too.”

  This time, Anna obeyed him without a peep. Her father’s future depended on her. She must get this job no matter what it took. She reached behind her to unclasp her bra and removed it. When she slid her panties down to her ankles, she was determined to win whatever test or game these triplets were playing.

  She took off her thigh highs and stood straight, chest puffed out, face blank like a marine facing his commanding officer—her shame forgotten.

  Matt’s eyes caught hers. “She’s beautiful,” he noted to Justin. “I like her better without clothes.”

  Wait, he was supposed to criticise that her breasts were too small for her frame or her hips were too big like a damned tavern’s footstool. She wasn’t known for her beauty. Her brain was her best attribute. Why did he compliment her? Anna unconsciously scowled at Matt.

  He held his gaze evenly. “What’s the matter? If you were our plaything, you’d spend most of your time unclothed.”

  Yowza.

  “Come here.” Justin pushed his chair back and motioned to the empty space in front of him. “Sit on my desk and present yourself to us.”

  It took her a couple of seconds to digest his order. As if being naked wasn’t enough, they wanted to see her privates as well.

  Anna hoisted herself onto Justin’s desk, sitting on her neatly printed résumé and spread her legs.

&n
bsp; Justin took each of her feet and planted them on his chair’s armrests. His gaze skittered from the curls at the juncture of her thighs and darted up, meeting her eyes. “You’re naturally blonde?” He sounded incredulous. “Why did you dye your hair black?”

  “Because black is the new blonde?” Anna had dyed her hair as part of her cover. She’d read somewhere that spies usually changed their appearance dramatically each time they were on a mission. Anna thought the dark hair would give her a more elegant, mysterious look. Her platinum hair always made people mistake her for a dumb blonde.

  “We’ll do something about it if she passes the test,” Matt decided.

  The test. Her heart dropped to her guts.

  Justin stroked her ankle as if she was his beloved pet. “Are you good in bed, Miss Vincent?”

  Anna cringed.

  “No? When was the last time you had sex?”

  “I, um. A long time ago.”

  “How long?” Matt asked, curious.

  She wanted to lie, but Matt looked like one of those people who could just tell if someone fibbed. “High school, I think.”

  Justin arched his lush eyebrows. “Are you a virgin?”

  “Heavens, no.”

  “Being a virgin isn’t something you need to be ashamed of.”

  “B-but I’m not.”

  Justin paused, considering. “We want you to pleasure yourself to completion, Miss Vincent.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the test.”

  Anna glared at Justin to see if he was joking. Nope. He wasn’t. Justin Martel looked dead serious. “Why on Earth do you want me to do that?”

  “Simple. We want an enthusiast bedmate. Someone to match our appetites. You can tell if a woman is enthusiastic in bed by watching her pleasure herself.”

  Anna exhaled a strangled breath. If she were a computer processor, she’d have a system crash about now. Her sexuality wasn’t something she liked to flaunt about. That kind of private matter should stay in the bedroom where it belonged—definitely shouldn’t be discussed out in the open or be demonstrated in public.