17. Kian

17

KIAN

I didn't get much sleep last night between waiting for Lorelei to reply to my email and reviewing the documents Dad sent over a few days ago. He's waiting for my opinion. Fuck knows why—he doesn't usually listen to a word I have to say. King, though…

I shake my head, trying to lose the bitterness that thought drags up.

Lorelei didn't reply. I can't say that I was surprised. It was late. But there was a little bit of me that hoped she'd still be awake and willing to spar with me. Hell knows I needed it after the night I'd had.

Claudine was beautiful, smart, funny, and apparently, everything I wasn't interested in last night.

No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't ignite any excitement for the woman sitting on the other side of the table.

I told myself that it was because I was waiting to discover the real reason for our date. I just knew that at some point she'd try for an invitation to one of our exclusive five-star resorts. But the request never came.

Although the expectation for me to take her home and continue our night was as clear as day on her face after I paid the bill and escorted her outside.

Don't get me wrong, I've turned down more than a few women in my time. I'm not that much of a whore that I'll take anything that's on offer. But I can say that last night was the first time I've turned down a woman who ticked every single one of my boxes.

Kieran would have kicked my ass into the middle of next year if he knew.

But I couldn't do it.

Sure, taking her home would have been fun, and pleasurable. But I'd have felt like an asshole afterward.

Fuck knows why I care all of a sudden. Being an asshole has never stopped me before.

I let out a sigh, letting my head fall back as the call I was on ends, plunging me into silence.

It goes without saying that I've been an asshole.

I was here early. Earlier than anyone else on this floor. I wanted to be here when she arrived. I wanted to see her face when she found me waiting at her messy desk.

What did I just say about not caring about being an asshole? Apparently, that only extends as far as Claudine, because all bets are off when it comes to my new assistant.

And just because I can, I sit forward and press the button on my phone that will connect me with her.

"Hello," she answers as if she has no idea who's going to be on the other end. I've done this exact thing more times than I can count today.

Every time I've wanted something, I've pressed that little button that will connect me to the person who can't say no.

I mean, she can, but seeing as she's only on day two of her employment, she hasn't dared yet. There's a really fucked-up part of me that's looking forward to the moment she does.

"Get us both a coffee, and then I need you in my office."

I hear the words the second they leave my lips, and a hit of desire shoots through my veins.

While my head might not have been in last night, my body was more than ready, and don't I fucking know it this morning.

I woke up tenting the sheets like a fucking teenager, but thoughts of my date were far, far from my mind.

Instead, as I'd wrapped my hand around myself in the hope of finding some relief, it was a head full of dark curls that emerged in my mind.

It was wrong. So fucking wrong.

But also…

I stare down at my desk, trying to picture how she'd look bent over and?—

"What did your last slave die of?" Lorelei snaps down the line.

"She didn't. She ran off crying and never returned. Feel free to follow suit if you don't think you can cut it."

She mutters something under her breath that makes me smirk. I might not be able to make the words out, but I get the gist.

"I'll see you in ten," I say, hanging up before she has a chance to respond.

Spinning my chair around, I stare out at the city beyond, watching the ant-sized people on the sidewalk below going about their days.

It's already four o'clock, and the sun is beginning its descent. It's been a beautiful sunny autumn day, and something tells me that the evening will be just as nice.

My cell buzzes on the desk behind me and I spin back around to see who it is.

Makenzie: Will you come to our next cheer comp? It's in Seattle.

She follows up that message with all the details.

Kian: Can I let you know closer to the time?

Makenzie: Sure, but Mom needs to buy tickets.

"Shit," I hiss, guilt flooding through my veins as a knock sounds out from my door exactly nine minutes and fifty seconds later.

"Your coffee, sir," she mocks as she moves across the room and lowers the mug to my desk.

She's already spent a few hours in here today going over her spreadsheet and discussing the next set of data that needed to be inputted. It's a job I'd usually have done myself so that I could get a better picture of the company as a whole, but it's not the most exciting job in the world, and I wanted to test her.

The spreadsheet she's built…I have almost an exact replica sitting in my documents that I made years ago. I wasn't going to tell her that, though.

Honestly, I expected her to struggle. Just because someone has a finance and business degree, it doesn't mean they have the skills they actually need to succeed. But I might admit that I've been impressed with her.

Sure, my intel told me that she did a good job at her previous place, that her dismissal was nothing more than a clash of personalities and a company that is on the decline. But still, it's nice to see for myself that my decision to make her mine was the right one.

"Thank you," I say after long, silent minutes.

"Did you need me for anything, or can I return to my desk?"

"I said that I needed you, didn't I?"

I might not be looking at her, but I can see enough of her reflection to know that she stands a little taller as she prepares to go into battle.

Fuck if my dick doesn't jerk at the thought.

Finally, I push my foot against the floor and spin around. The second her eyes land on me, they widen, her lips parting in surprise.

I get it. I don't look like I did earlier. I'm no longer dressed for meetings. It's Friday afternoon, and I'm dressed for the occasion with my tie hanging loosely around my half-unbuttoned shirt and my sleeves rolled up to my elbows.

"I hope you didn't have any plans tonight, Lorelei," I say with a smirk as I comb my fingers through my now messy hair.

"Um…"

"Good," I state before she comes up with an answer. "Kingston is still adamant that this hotel chain in the UK is for us. I want to put up an argument based on all of this," I say, pushing a whole stack of papers in her direction. "That he's wrong."

Lorelei swallows nervously as she looks between me and the paperwork.

"What's wrong? I thought you agreed with me," I say, cocking my head.

"I-I did. I mean, I do." She has more to say, the words are practically dancing on the tip of her tongue, but she refuses to let them free.

"Go on," I encourage. "You're not usually one to keep your opinions to yourself."

Her eyes narrow, and my smirk grows.

"Fine. Do you really think Kingston cares about the financial implications of this potential deal? Like you said before, he's not going into this with his head. It's fuelled by his heart. No amount of paperwork or business plan is going to deter him."

I nod, completely agreeing with her.

"You're right," I say, pushing to my feet and walking around my desk, closing the space between us. "But I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't present this to him like I would any other acquisition we've gone into. And anyway, I didn't have any other plans for my evening. Did you?"

I can tell from the expression on her face that she did, and it leaves me wondering what it was.

She saw Tate and Cory last night. And I know for a fact that Kingston is taking Tate out for a date tonight, so she's otherwise engaged.

I also know that she's single, unlike the night of the wedding. The jerk who didn't attend with her proved his true colors the other week when it became apparent that he was living a double life and had a fiancée.

So, if she does have plans tonight, then?—

"Nothing I can't cancel," she says through gritted teeth. Irritation comes off her in waves, but I don't let it affect me.

"Fantastic," I say, stepping up behind her, letting the sweet scent of her perfume flood my senses. "Shall we get started?"

"The sooner we start, the sooner we can leave."

"Hmm, my thoughts exactly," I lie.

" T his is a fucking disaster," Lorelei announces from where she's sitting on the floor at my coffee table, surrounded by the chain's previous accounts.

We have the past five years to go through. I might only have scratched the surface of them, but I already know that it's not pretty reading.

"Did they really think they could turn this around?" she asks.

"I guess so. I don't think anyone sets out to go under."

She stills and looks up, glaring at me.

"What? You asked."

"It was rhetorical," she hisses before sitting back in her haunches and grabbing her cell.

A deep frown mars her forehead before she begins tapping the screen frantically.

"Everything okay?" I ask, still curious as fuck about what her canceled evening plans entailed.

"Great," she lies before letting out a heavy breath.

"Your date not impressed that you had to cancel?" I hedge.

"I didn't have a date. I'm not dating right now." Her cell lights up again, distracting her. "Not that it's any of your business," she adds absently as she starts typing again.

"Just trying to get to know you better."

"Okay, so for reference, only one of us has a different member of the opposite sex warming their bed every night of the week."

My brows lift at the bitterness that accompanies that statement.

"I don't sleep with a different woman every night," I say before thinking better of getting into this with her.

"Okay, cool. Whatever you say."

This time when she looks at her cell, she sees something she likes and a wide, genuine smile appears on her face.

My breath catches at the sight of it.

"For someone who isn't dating, you sure look happy about those messages you're getting."

She pauses typing and lowers her cell. "I'm sorry, you must not have heard me when I said it was none of your business." Holding my eyes firm, she climbs to her feet and straightens her skirt. "I don't need to be here right now. My working hours ended hours ago. Excuse me," she says before marching across the room and slipping out of the door.

Sitting back, I can't fight the grin that spreads across my face.

"Take your time," I mutter, knowing that she'll be back. Her shoes are on the floor next to my desk, after all.