Chapter 3

Morgan

I was in way over my head.

I already felt ridiculous. Zara had insisted that I wear my best set of lingerie, a matching black bra and panty set that was partially see through in places. I felt scandalous and I hadn't even gotten fully dressed yet.

I didn't understand why. Something about being a power bitch, but I simply felt like a little slut going to a business meeting with this underneath my clothes.

"Morgan, you need to look absolutely stunning," Zara asserted, holding up a sleek, form-fitting outfit. "This isn't just any client meeting. Who knows, you might be walking into your very own Mr. Grey scenario."

She waggled her eyebrows again, and I couldn't help but blush and roll my eyes.

"Zara, this is a professional interview, not some ‘Fifty Shades of Grey' fantasy. I seriously doubt my new client will bear any resemblance to Christian Grey, even though it would be nice…"

"Oh, come on," Zara teased, her eyes twinkling. "Rich, mysterious client, high-pressure business setting—it's like the perfect backdrop for a billionaire office romance."

As I took the dress from her—a deep navy number that was bound to accentuate my every curve—I had to admit, it was a bit more daring than my usual style. But Zara had a knack for pushing me out of my comfort zone, and perhaps today of all days, that wasn't such a bad thing. With an important client on the horizon, maybe a dash of Zara's bold confidence was exactly what I needed.

I slipped into the dress despite every alarm bell in my head telling me not to.

Get out of your comfort zone, Morgan… Live a little. You can do this!

"You really think I should wear this?" I murmured, glancing down at the skirt and fingering the bottom hem, my indecision probably written all over my face.

"Yeah, you beautiful bitch. You look fucking amazing. You'll definitely look the part for Mr. Bend-Me-Over-the-Desk-Right-Now," she winked, and I couldn't stop myself from gasping out loud, her forwardness catching me by surprise once again.

"It's not exactly the professional image I'm going for, Zara," I laughed lightly, shaking my head.

"It's not just about looking professional, Morgan. It's about feeling powerful and confident, like you can slay the world with nothing but the heels on your feet. This outfit does that," she said, her tone shifting to a more serious one. "And who knows, a bit of sexy never hurt in the business world, and you know that…"

"Maybe you're right," I said, a smile playing on my lips as I looked at myself in the mirror. The clothing did make me feel different—more daring, more assertive. Maybe she was onto something…

"Maybe? Honey, of course I'm right," Zara replied with a confident nod. "You're going to walk into that meeting and own it. And this client? They won't know what hit them."

Her words bolstered my confidence. I needed this win, not just for my company, but for myself. After a recent string of PR nightmares that my company had to deal with, I couldn't help but feel a bit steamrolled by circumstances beyond my control.

First, there had been the high-profile tech startup that imploded spectacularly due to the founder's scandalous, and very adulterous, personal life—something I couldn't have predicted or even remotely begun to manage, even if I hadn't been blindsided by it.

Then came the environmental non-profit organization, Earth Guardians Alliance, honestly a dream client, that got caught in a fraudulent funding scheme, tainting everyone associated with them, including my firm, which really fucking sucked.

And who could forget the fiasco with Wendy Newton, the celebrity chef whose wild drug fueled sex tape from a few years ago had come out of the woodwork right when she was supposed to start a new show centered around family cooking?

Each of these completely separate circumstances had damaged my firm's reputation, despite my team's best efforts and our proven track record of serving only the best.

I needed a win, and I needed it badly.

"Alright, let's do this. I'll take on Mr. Potential Client and this meeting with everything I've got."

Zara beamed, clearly pleased. "That's the spirit! Now go out there and knock ‘em dead. And remember, no matter what happens, I'm here, always in your corner, especially if you get laid while you're at it."

I chuckled at Zara's incorrigible attitude. "Thanks, Zara. And I'll keep the getting laid part under advisement," I said with a playful roll of my eyes.

Zara gave me a sly grin. "Just saying, if this Mr. Potential Client turns out to be your Christian Grey, I expect full details. You know, for… research purposes."

I laughed, feeling a bit more relaxed. "I'll be sure to take notes, then. But I think I'll focus on the business aspect first. As intriguing as a whirlwind romance may sound, I'm pretty sure this is going to be more about balance sheets than red rooms."

"Oh, come on, where's the fun in that?" Zara teased. "Remember how Ana first met Christian? A simple interview, and bam! Life changed. You're walking into an interview with the wealthy, mysterious Hunter Blackwater. The parallels are uncanny."

I adjusted the skirt one last time, trying to mirror Ana's unassuming confidence. "Well, if he starts asking me about my reading habits or helicopter rides, I'll know we've veered off script."

Zara's eyes twinkled with mischief as she followed me to the door. "Just remember, if he starts offering you a tour of his very own ‘playroom', don't be too shocked, Little Miss Prude."

I burst out laughing, a mix of amusement and disbelief coloring my voice. "Zara! I'm pretty sure that's not on the agenda for a PR business meeting."

"You never know, Morgan," she winked playfully. "Life can be surprisingly kinky. Just be sure to negotiate your terms like a boss, Ana Steele style."

"You're awful," I moaned.

"I know. You love it."

"You know, he has a reputation," I began.

Hunter Blackwater was a playboy. I'd done my research on him. Not only did he have a reputation for being a ladies' man, but there were suggestions of affairs at the office, that he tangled business with pleasure on a regular basis.

So, Zara wasn't exactly wrong…

"You neglected to tell me that little detail before," she said with a huff, throwing her hair over her shoulder in mock anger.

I sighed. "Apparently, he's known for… well, getting involved with people he works with. Romantically involved."

Zara raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Oh? Mr. Potential Client is a bit of a playboy then? This plot just keeps thickening."

I shook my head, determined. "This is not a romance novel, Zara. I'm not going to walk in there, be instantly attracted to him, and jeopardize this whole opportunity. I need him as a client."

"Who said anything about instant attraction?" Zara teased. "Maybe he'll be the one unable to resist your charm."

"You know I need this deal. My company needs it. I can't afford to get sidetracked by… well, you know."

"His dick?" Zara suggested.

"It's strictly professional. I'm going in there to secure a client, not a date."

Zara grinned. "Sure thing. That's definitely what I meant. Go show Mr. Playboy Businessman what Morgan Davis is all about. And if he tries any funny business, well just do what I would do. Him."

I couldn't help but laugh, feeling a bit more at ease with her vibrant energy around me. "Thanks, Zara. For everything."

She gave me a quick hug. "Anytime, girl. Now go conquer the business world. And remember, say yes to playrooms!"

"No playrooms," I sputtered with a giggle.

With a final smile, I grabbed my phone and my laptop bag and stepped out of our apartment. I took a deep breath and lifted my chin.

I could do this.

I would do this.

* * *

I didn't know if I could do this.

The image of Mr. Hunter Blackwater was staring right at me from the wall. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, his youth belying the magnitude of his success. His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, seemed to probe right into my soul. His hair was a dark, mussed tangle that suggested he didn't fuss over his appearance, yet it somehow still worked perfectly. His features were sharp and angular, like they were carved out of marble. His slightly crooked nose, maybe broken once and never properly set, gave him a rugged look that was strangely compelling.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the fluttering in my stomach as I looked down at my cell phone in my hand and checked the time. The secretary was typing away at her desk, occasionally glancing my way with a polite, professional smile. Every second that ticked by in this high-rise office seemed to stretch on, intensifying my anxiety and making my heart beat like a drum in my chest.

Why was I so nervous?

I was good at my job, great even. But sitting here, waiting to meet the mysterious Hunter Blackwater, the man behind the name that had become synonymous with tech innovation and business acumen—it was daunting. The rumors about his personal life, his so-called ‘reputation', didn't help either. I needed to keep my mind focused on the business at hand, not get distracted by idle gossip, or his striking appearance, or if my pussy would get wet in his presence.

I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt. Now it felt a tad too tight for something like this. I couldn't help but wonder if I was out of my depth. This meeting was crucial, not just for my firm, but for me personally. It was a chance to prove that I could bounce back, that a few bad breaks wouldn't destroy me.

I needed to do this.

"Ms. Davis?" the secretary called out, snapping me out of my reverie. "Mr. Blackwater will see you now."

Fifty Shades might be right.

I took one last moment to gather my composure and walked towards the office door, my short professional heels clicking assertively against the sleek hardwood floor. As I entered his office, the first thing that struck me was the meticulous organization and the clean, modern aesthetic of the space. Every item seemed to have its place, from the neatly stacked papers to the minimalist art adorning the walls. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the expansive room in a warm glow.

It was homey in a way.

Hunter Blackwater was seated behind a large, immaculate wooden desk, his attention fixed on the screen in front of him. As I approached, he looked up, and for a moment I was caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. His blue eyes, even more piercing in person, seemed to hold a depth that was both intriguing and disconcerting, and for a second, I couldn't bring myself to look away.

There was a flash of surprise that crossed his features, but then it was gone, almost like I hadn't seen it in the first place.

With an air of professionalism, he stood up, his presence commanding yet not overbearing. His dark hair was as mussed as in his painting, giving him a slightly disheveled look that contrasted sharply with the pristine environment of his office. His angular features were more pronounced up close, and I swallowed hard, letting my gaze fall on his finely tailored suit. The fabric had a subtle sheen in the sunlight, hinting at its quality, and it complemented the understated elegance of everything that was him.

He was so handsome in person, even more so than his painting.

Scratch that.

He was fucking hot.

"Ms. Davis, I presume?" His voice was deep, resonating with a confidence that seemed to fill the room. It rolled down my spine like a cool drink of water, and I had to remind myself to keep my head in the game.

"Yes, Mr. Blackwater. Morgan Davis," I replied, extending my hand. His grip was firm, the brief contact sending an unexpected jolt of electricity through me, and I swallowed back my own gasp of surprise.

Why?

Why was I like this?

This is a business meeting. Not a goddamn date.

"Please, have a seat," he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. I lowered myself down into the grey armchair, the leather creaking as I settled into place. He remained standing. I wasn't sure if it was a power play or not.

It certainly felt like it.

I cleared my throat, placed my phone face down on his desk, and nodded once as if that signified the start of a meeting. His eyebrows rose a bit, but he held his ground.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Blackwater. I appreciate the opportunity to discuss how Davis Media Relations can support your company's PR needs," I began, my voice strong and steady.

He nodded, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as if he sensed my effort to remain composed. His eyes roved down my body for a long moment, almost as if he was drinking me in, and then his gaze snapped back up to meet mine.

"I've heard about your firm, Ms. Davis. You've built quite a reputation for innovative strategies, even in the face of… challenging situations, or so my secretary tells me."

"I believe in facing challenges head-on, Mr. Blackwater," I responded, my voice steady. "Every situation, no matter how difficult, is an opportunity to learn and grow. My firm has not only the experience but also the resilience to manage complex PR scenarios effectively. My history speaks for itself."

"Indeed," he answered, his gaze speculative, and I found it a bit unnerving. I swallowed hard and pulled my shoulders back, banking on the confidence I felt in this outfit and from Zara's pep talk to get me through the rest of this meeting.

I'm going to need it.

"So, Mr. Blackwater, let's talk specifics. What are your primary concerns regarding your company's public image right now?" I asked, leaning forward slightly, my tone professional yet assertive. He finally sat down in his chair and leaned back, folding his hands in his lap with a heavy sigh.

I watched his Adam's apple bob as he regarded me with those piercing blue eyes. For a moment, we just stared at each other, and then he finally began to speak.

"The main issue is managing the fallout from the rumors about my family's past, most specifically my uncle. It's crucial that we redirect the focus to my company's innovations and corporate responsibility."

I nodded, understanding the delicacy of the situation. I'd done my research before walking into this interview. I already knew the charges surrounding his uncle and the black stain it was painting over Hunter's nanotech company.

It needed work, but I was confident that I could get the job done.

"Of course. We specialize in crisis management and image rebranding. However, it's essential to be transparent in these cases. The public appreciates honesty."

He leaned back in his chair, a hint of a challenge in his eyes, and my clit throbbed hard. I tried my best to ignore it, but it was growing increasingly difficult.

"Transparency is important, but so is steering the narrative. We can't let the past dictate our future."

I couldn't help but smirk at his response. "Steering the narrative, yes, but not at the expense of authenticity. People see right through that." I cocked my head, leveling him with a steady glare of my own.

Hunter's smile matched mine. "I appreciate your candor, Ms. Davis. But in this game, I think we both know that perception is reality. We need to shape the world's perception carefully, especially around my uncle's activities…"

"I'll craft my approach with that in mind," I said, my voice clipped.

It felt like he was challenging me, and my body was heating up by the second.

The tension between us thickened.

Hunter leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze never leaving mine. "Ms. Davis, while I respect your approach, I believe in a more… direct form of action. We can't afford to be too cautious in this situation."

Matching his posture, I leaned in as well, my voice firm. "Direct action is fine, Mr. Blackwater, but without a carefully curated and crafted strategy, it's just recklessness. My firm's approach may be cautious, but it's also calculated. I demand only the best for my clients."

A smirk played on his lips. "Calculated risks, I assume? I'm all for that. But sometimes, you need to take the bull by the horns and direct it where to go yourself."

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the heat of his challenge. "And other times, you need to lure the bull into a trap with a clever ruse. It's not always about brute force, Mr. Blackwater. Sometimes finesse is key."

"It certainly has its merits," he replied.

He was testing me, and it was starting to get on my nerves, but that wasn't all. The rest of my body was pumping with heat, so much so that a droplet of sweat was rolling down the length of my spine. I lifted my chin, trying my best to ignore it.

Even worse, I could feel my nipples hardening underneath the lined cups of my bra, and I hoped that it was thick enough to hide them. When his gaze glanced down, my cheeks flamed knowingly, and I turned my head, the tension between us palpable.

But the most terrible part of all was that I could feel that my panties were soaked. This back and forth between us was almost more than I could bear.

It was as if we were both butting heads, fighting to be the alpha, and neither of us seemed to be coming out on top.

Something about him was setting me on edge. I didn't know what it was, but I most certainly didn't like it.

Or maybe I did.

I wasn't sure.

"Perhaps your business might even improve with an approach like mine," he offered, the boldness in his voice unmistakable.

Too bold…

"From my research, you seem to have a very… hands-on approach with those you work with, Mr. Blackwater," I remarked, a slight edge to my voice. I was treading dangerous ground, and a part of me didn't care. I couldn't help myself.

I wasn't going to be another one of his conquests.

"One has to be involved in all aspects of one's business to ensure success," he replied smoothly. "I assume you operate similarly with your firm?"

"Absolutely," I shot back, meeting his intensity with equal fervor. "I don't shy away from getting my hands dirty. Whatever it takes to get the job done."

"Good," he mused.

He held my gaze, the air between us charged. "Then let's shape a narrative that works for both of us. What's your plan for my company?"

He steepled his hands, and I couldn't help but notice their large size. Immediately, I licked my lips, wondering how those nice big hands would feel cupping my ass as he pressed me up against the wall and drove his length into my wet heat.

Oh my god. Stop thinking like Zara! You're Morgan Davis, and you run your own PR firm. You can do this.

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat, forcing myself to refocus on the task at hand. For a second, it was difficult, but I eventually got a hold of my wayward thoughts.

It certainly wasn't easy though.

"First, we need to address the current public perception head-on. No beating around the bush. We acknowledge the past but pivot to the future. Your company's innovations, its contributions to technology, and corporate social responsibility—that's the story we need to tell."

Hunter nodded, seemingly impressed. "Sounds like you've given this some thought."

Despite his reluctant approval, I couldn't shake the competitive edge to our interaction. "I wouldn't suggest it if I hadn't thought it through," I replied, a touch of defiance in my voice.

"I have to admit, Ms. Davis, I like a woman with a sharp tongue, but I have a much better use for that pretty mouth," he said softly, his gaze locked with mine.

"I'm not another one of your sluts," I countered before I thought it through.

His gaze turned molten, almost like I'd awakened the beast inside him and now he'd come alive.

The air between us seemed to crackle, charged with an unspoken, almost primal energy. It was as if our verbal sparring had ignited something more, a fiery undercurrent that threatened to blow at any given moment.

I didn't know if I wanted it to blow or not.

I could feel the heat rising on my cheeks, my heartbeat quickening. His presence was overwhelming, enveloping the room like a tangible force, and I swallowed back a heavy gasp.

"Your ideas are intriguing, Ms. Davis," he said, cutting through the tension between us, his voice a low rumble that resonated within me. "I'm looking forward to seeing how you execute them."

I struggled to maintain my composure, my rage at his comment boiling through me like a sudden storm. "Execution is key, Mr. Blackwater. And I assure you, my team and I are more than capable."

The intensity in his eyes didn't waver. "I have no doubt about that," he replied, a hint of something unspoken lingering in his words.

As I gathered my things and prepared to leave, it was an effort to tear my gaze away from his.

"Thank you for your time," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"The pleasure was all mine," he responded, standing up as I did. His movements were fluid, predatory, as if every step was calculated to keep me within his sphere. He grabbed my hand and shook it firmly.

The moment he touched me, I almost forgot how to breath.

The fire that blazed up and down my arm from little more than his handshake was nothing short of breathtaking, and when he finally let go, the burning tingle lingered seemingly forever, a reminder of the intensity still crackling between us.

What had just happened? Did I still have a client after this?

I replayed the meeting in my mind, trying to pinpoint the exact moment it had shifted. Hunter's challenging remarks, his intense gaze, the way our ideas clashed and danced together—it was something I'd never experienced with a client before. I couldn't ignore the way that he was looking at me right now either, like a predator that had just found his prey… It had stirred up something I couldn't quite name.

Maybe something I didn't want to name…

Taking a deep breath, I pulled my hand away. In an instant, I missed his touch. I wanted to reach back out and feel it, but I didn't dare.

"Mr. Blackwater," I concluded.

"Miss Davis," he echoed.

Without another word, I turned on my heel, grabbed my laptop bag, and stormed out.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I swore under my breath.

Fuck.

This wasn't how this was supposed to go. I was supposed to get a rich new client, one that would save my PR firm from an early death, and now I didn't even know if I still had a working relationship.

Also, why the fuck was I aroused right now? I shouldn't have let him get to me. I shouldn't have imagined those big hands running all over my body, shouldn't be thinking about that right now, yet I couldn't make it stop.

Images of my back against the wall, of his bare ass flexing as he thrust into me, over and over until I screamed his name.

Jesus Christ. What was wrong with me?

I was impossible.

This was all Zara's fault. She'd put Mr. Fifty Shades in my head, and now it was stuck so firmly in there that it might as well be permanent.

Maybe I needed to go home, rub one out, and start to tackle this PR nightmare in the hopes that I hadn't fucked up the whole interview and lost myself the client of a lifetime.

I hadn't, had I?

I needed to go back, right?

But…

I couldn't shake the feeling of hesitation that spiraled through me at the thought of facing him again. I licked my lips, unable to stop myself from squealing a bit with rage and something else I didn't care to admit to.

Desire.

My pussy throbbed hard at the thought of being in the same room with him again. I didn't know if I was ready yet.

The two of us were on a collision course, and sooner or later, we were going to crash.

Maybe it would be better to just cool down and tackle this tomorrow with a clear head. I needed a glass of wine, a good book, and my vibrator before I dealt with Mr. Blackwater again.

Tomorrow would be a new day.