17. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Quinlan

“Ms. Palmer.” Tatum, the secretary at BLF Capital, smiles at me.

She sits behind her wide, wood desk, her green eyes kind. The three offices surrounding her desk are empty. There are no name tags on the closed doors. But I know whose offices they are.

At least their titles. The VPs of BLF Capital.

Their current website didn’t have the VPs’ names on it. Or the owners’. Or anyone in the company, for that matter. I hate coming off as if I don’t care about my job. About the people who work there.

I’ve had no other choice. No one’s given me their names.

I’ll have them soon enough. They’ve been on a business conference call—as Tatum’s informed me—before our meeting. The one I’ve been dreading.

This might’ve been easier if not for what happened two nights ago. The night the three men that had haunted my dreams admitted to stalking me. The night the three of them cornered me. Terrified me.

Made me come.

And fucked me in the head.

Ray has called me twice since. I let the calls go to voicemail and texted her later, letting her know I’m alive. And busy. And sorry. So sorry.

Though nothing I could say would excuse my behavior.

Rex and I spoke once since, and I hung up on him when my voice cracked. Fast. He sent a million messages later. I ignored most of them.

Running didn’t happen, either. I couldn’t bear the thought of bumping into anyone, anyone at all.

Instead, I drowned myself in work and marketing my business, hoping to forget about the dangerous strangers and how I embarrassed myself in a public restroom.

For the most part, I managed.

I’m here, aren’t I? In this nice gray blouse, black slacks, and my heels. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail, my makeup is on point. I shouldn’t be nervous.

“Ms. Palmer, are you all right?”

Except I am. The job is mine, but I’m sure they have a loophole in case I fuck up royally. Or a team of lawyers to null the agreement for any number of reasons.

“Yes.” Spine straight. Shoulders pulled back. I definitely don’t pull the collar of my shirt to get some air in.

Not me. I clutch on to the notebook and pen I’ve been provided with by Tatum when I arrived. Anything but fidget.

I have to believe this job is mine. That nothing that happened outside these offices reflects on me in any way. I am not a mess. I don’t belong to three ridiculously hot men.

I’m me. The professional they hired to work on their website.

“Everything’s great.”

“Good.” She’s elegant as she rises from her chair. Her blonde hair is twisted into a low bun, her striped dress shirt tucked into her black pencil skirt. “In that case, they’re ready to see you.”

The offices are beautiful. A lot of money was invested into this place. I get up, watching the night sky outside. Inhaling. I’m fine.

Tatum walks over to me in her heels. “If you could follow me, please.”

“Um, Tatum?” She’s quick, setting off toward the conference room with me at her side. “Is there—Are there any topics I should avoid?”

She stops at my question. We’re in the middle of a vast hallway, surrounded by glass walls and buzzing sounds of people talking over the phone and typing. The place is a hive.

Tatum is silent, though.

“There is, actually.” Her voice is a conspiratorial whisper. “I assume you remember you signed an NDA. You can’t talk about anything that goes on within these walls. They value their privacy.”

“Of course. I would never.” I have never either. My clients’ information is just that. Theirs.

“Good.” She sucks another deep breath, leaning toward me.

By her expression, it’s clear she’s uncomfortable with the invasion of my personal space as much as I am. This means what she has to tell me is important. A secret.

“And?”

“Not that I think anything of it. Truth is, I hardly even notice it’s there. Some people, though…” She shakes her head, disgusted. “Mr. Frost’s face is a sensitive topic. Don’t look at him too hard, even if he’s the one talking to you. He wouldn’t admit it, but I’ve been here long enough to know it upsets him.”

Ice floods my veins. My heart halts to a full stop.

“Disgusted by my scar, aren’t you?”

Liam’s words. Liam’s pain.

Impossible. It can’t be him.

When Damien had his tongue in my pussy, when Rome branded my ass with his hand… When Liam shut me up using one hand while the other abused my nipple until pain became earth-shattering pleasure…

That wasn’t some kind of a sick initiation to this job. I refuse to believe it.

They can’t be that twisted.

Can they?

“No looking too hard at Mr. Frost.” Fuck these thoughts. Fuck this fear. “Got it.”

I focus on Tatum, on the doors at the end of the hallway. They’re there. My future lies behind them. A way to support my family, not kinky, attractive men.

Tatum walks me a few steps forward, steeling herself at the large double dark wood doors at the end of the hall. They look bigger this close. Intimidating.

“I’d wish you good luck, but you don’t need it.” Tatum places a warm hand on my shoulder. A cordial gesture. One second, and it’s gone. “The job is yours.”

“Yes.”

Every ounce of my focus is on the door. All my energies are harnessed to transform me into the best version of myself. The woman who’s worked for years to earn this position.

I plaster a smile on my face. “It’s mine.”

“That’s the spirit,” the older woman says. I hear her heels clink as she strides off.

Um…What? She’s going?

Normally, especially in the fancier companies I’ve worked with, the secretaries show me in. A formal introduction takes place. A ritual of sorts. They bring in drinks. Refreshments.

This is a good thing . They’re not snobs. You’re going to meet some really cool people. You’ll love working for them.

I will. Of course, I will.

The notebook goes to one hand. The freed one rises, curling into a fist.

Three raps on the door.

“Come in, Ms. Palmer,” a man’s bass-like voice seeps through the heavy doors.

Big smile. Hand on the handle.

And push.