The Score by Bethany-Kris Page A

time it was. That was a massive failure. Between the time it said it was, the time Anton was sure he’d arrived, and the time in-between, he couldn’t possibly put it all together. How had he been here three and a half hours already?
    That was his first inclination something wasn’t right.
    Where was that time?
    Blankness, that’s where it was. Nowhere.
    Ten more minutes passed while he stared at the clock.
    Wasn’t he supposed to be home with …?
    Anton’s thought process cut off at the quiet click of the office door shutting closed.
    “Boss?”
    That feminine voice was nothing like Rory’s. Anton turned on his heel to face Natalie. Leaning back on his desk, he pressed his palms into the edge to steady the sudden swaying, feeling that glorious heat travel through his skin and nerves again.
    Anton pressed harder to make it repeat. It did.
    “Anton,” he said gruffly. “That’s my name.”
    “I can call you that,” Natalie replied sweetly.
    Something was wrong here. Anton knew it. Like the color of her eyes and hair. Or the way her jasmine perfume soaked the room when it should have been the scent of roses instead. There was something else unexpected crawling through Anton’s awakening nervous system, too. Arousal. He was turned on, and he didn’t have a fucking clue why.
    “You need to leave,” Anton heard himself say, but it wasn’t very firm.
    Natalie took another step closer and Anton felt his own try to take a step back because of it. Oddly, he knew he wasn’t in control of this situation. Certainly not of the woman five feet away, who usually followed directions well, kept her head out of trouble, and left him alone. Thinking he was in control of his own body was goddamn joke, given the only thing his cock was considering was something warm and wet.
    Not hers, though. Not Natalie.
    Anton wanted a dark haired beauty with brown eyes, a pretty mouth, and rose scented skin he could get lost in.
    Not Natalie.
    No .
    Anton blinked out of his haze, glancing from Natalie to the clock. “What time did I get here?”
    “Ten-thirty.”
    Her voice was soft, he noticed. Not silky like his wife’s. But soft.
    Not soft enough , something whispered.
    Natalie took another step forward and Anton noticed the heels she wore. Silver strappy things with spikes that had to be hell for working in the club after hours of walking the floor. Unfortunately, those heels were attached to a pair of legs that traveled all the way up to a tight, short dress showcasing the sexy curves of a young woman. She had a sway when she moved, not a natural one, but a learned one.
    Anton nearly choked on the spit gathering in his mouth. What in the fuck was wrong with him?
    Natalie’s voice distracted him from taking the thought further. “Are you as bad as they say, Anton?”
    “Hmm?”
    “You …”
    Natalie was right in front of him then. Anton had no idea how she got there that quickly. The sensation of being caged crept in and he sidestepped the female. The brush of her fingertips along his exposed skin where he rolled up his shirt sleeves earlier sent a burst of sparks along every nerve in his limb.
    God, it felt fucking amazing. And wrong .
    “Jesus,” Anton whispered, jerking away.
    Natalie’s face tipped sideways. “You okay?”
    “Fine. Why are you here?” Anton asked.
    “I wanted to talk. The club is starting to clear out, so I had a few minutes.”
    The club was clearing out already? Again, time had gone somewhere and Anton didn’t know it passed.
    The cotton sensation was back in his mouth. “I need a drink of water.”
    No more liquor. He didn’t need that at all.
    Natalie handed him a glass of clear liquid that was resting on his desk. Anton downed the room temperature water, barely realizing what he had just done. A couple of hours before, he’d slipped at least a half a teaspoon or more of drugs into that water to watch how quickly it would dissolve.
    Too late now.
    His mouth was still dry.
    Shit.
    “Anton