of dating a few times.
“Dance with me.”
The low, demanding words sent shivers through her body. Zara knew without turning around who would be behind her...her new employer and rumored-to-be corrupt business mogul Braden O’Shea.
With Shane directly in front of her and Braden behind her, Zara was literally stuck in the exact predicament she didn’t want to be in on her first big night of working for the O’Sheas. But right now, she was bracketed by two powerful men. One she wanted nothing to do with and the other set her heart racing as only a mysterious, intriguing man could do. The few times she’d been in his office had been a bit difficult to concentrate. Braden O’Shea exuded authority, control and sex appeal.
Humiliation flooded her at the idea that Braden had to intervene. She was here in a professional capacity. Having her ex confront her was not exactly showcasing the reputation she’d worked so hard to build, and coming off as anything less than professional could be career suicide.
Shane glared over her shoulder, silently telling Braden precisely what he thought of the interruption, but before Zara could say a word to either man, Braden took hold of her arm and pulled her to the dance area in the ballroom of his lavish, historical home.
Instantly she was plastered against the oldest of the O’Shea siblings...not a difficult position to find herself in, actually. She had often appreciated the visual of his broad, sexy body wrapped in the finest of black suits with black shirt and no tie. But being up close and personal, breathing in what was undoubtedly expensive, masculine cologne that had her eyes fluttering closed as she inhaled, was another level of torture entirely.
The man exuded sex appeal, but he was her new boss, and she needed this job for the prestige and the insanely large paycheck. This was her first official event with this prominent family after being officially hired a few months ago. Screwups...screwing of any kind...was not allowed.
So, no sex thoughts. None. Okay, maybe later when she was alone.
“I really need to be working.”
A little protest was in order, wasn’t it? Even if sliding against Braden felt like some sort of foreplay in itself, she was the events coordinator for this party. Dancing with the host and boss was a major professional no-no, even if they’d always gotten along well with each other before tonight. There’d always been some ridiculous magnetic energy between them that she’d never experienced before but refused to explore.
Braden’s dark gaze studied her, his mouth unsmiling. “With a dress like that, you should be dancing.”
The sexual undertone wasn’t lost on her. She’d thrown on her go-to black dress with a low V in the back and front, long sleeves, with the hem stopping at her knees. The dress was simple, yet made a statement. Hiding her curves wasn’t an option unless she wore a muumuu. Besides, this was the best dress she’d found in her boxes of belongings since she hadn’t unpacked from her move...three months ago. Because unpacking meant settling in, making roots.
“You’re not paying me to dance,” she told him, though she made no motion to step out of his powerful embrace. Her mind told her this wasn’t professional, but her stubborn body wasn’t getting that memo. “I’m positive this isn’t professional to ignore my position here.”
“You’re on break.”
With one large hand at the small of her back and the other gripping hers, Braden led her in a dance to an old classic. Crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, illuminating the polished wood floor in a kaleidoscope of colors. The wall of French doors leading to the patio gave the room an even larger feel. The O’Sheas were known for their lavish parties, and now that she was in the ballroom, she could see why. Who had an actual ballroom in their house?
Other couples swirled around them, but with few words and those dark, mesmerizing eyes, this man captured her undivided attention. She needed to get back control over this situation because even though Braden insisted she was taking a break, she wasn’t paid to socialize. She was given an insane amount of money to make this annual party an even bigger success than the last one, and she’d heard a rumor the last events coordinator for the O’Sheas was fired in the most humiliating of circumstances. She couldn’t afford slipups.
Or crazy exes.
“I could’ve handled him,” she told Braden. “Shane was just...”
“I’m not talking about another man when I have a beautiful woman in my arms.”
Okay, yeah, that definitely crossed the professional threshold. Each word he spoke dripped with charm, authority...desire. He held his feelings back, remained in control at all times. From what she’d seen, he was calculating, powerful and the aura of mystery surrounding him was even more alluring and sexy.
But, no. She’d just ended things with one powerful, controlling man. She was fine being single and focusing on her year-old business. Her goal was to be the company all major names turned to when needing a party planned or hosting a special event. Having the O’Sheas was a huge leap in the right direction. No matter the rumors surrounding their, well, less-than-legal operations behind the front of their world-renowned auction house, the O’Sheas had connections she could only dream of. She hoped this event led to new clients.
“If you keep scowling, I’m going to think you prefer Shane’s company,” Braden stated, breaking into her thoughts. “Or maybe I interrupted a lover’s quarrel?”
Zara nearly recoiled. “No. Definitely not a lover’s quarrel.”
Had Braden overheard what Shane had said? Heat flooded her cheeks. She’d dated Shane briefly and had broken things off with him weeks ago, yet the man was relentless in trying to get her attention again. When they’d gone on only a few dates, he’d started getting a bit too controlling for her comfort. Thankfully she hadn’t slept with him.
Still, he’d made a point to tell her how fast he could ruin her business. Did he honestly think that would make her give him another chance? Threats were so not the way to a woman’s heart.
She wasn’t one to back down without a fight, but she was realistic, and Shane did have money and connections. She shivered at the severity of his words.
“Cold?” Braden asked.
Braden’s hand drifted up, his fingertips grazed across her bare skin just above the dip in her material.
With the heat in his eyes, there was no way she could claim a chill. The firmness of his body moved perfectly with hers; that friction alone could cause a woman to go up in flames.
“Mr. O’Shea—”
“Braden.”
Zara swallowed. “Fine. Braden,” she corrected, forcing herself to hold his heavy-lidded stare. “I really should check on the drinks—”
“Taken care of.”
“The hors d’oeuvres—”
“Are fine.”
He spun her toward the edge of the dance floor, closer to one set of French doors leading out on to the patio. Snow swirled around outside; a storm for later tonight was in the forecast. February in Boston could be treacherous and unpredictable.
“You’ve
