Chapter 22

22

Lena

I haven't seen the alphahole in three days. Three full days when it hasn't mattered how early I woke up, by the time I went down to the kitchen, he'd left. I'd tried to see him at work but Karen had informed me, with unwarranted glee, that he was busy. JJ was being a bitch, and I hated it. In fact, it made me so angry that after being turned down yet again by Karen, I grabbed my tablet with the urgent information I needed to share with him, then marched past her and rapped on the door to his office.

"Hey, stop!" She jumps up from her seat, but I shove the door open, step in, and come to a stop.

The men and one woman seated around the table swivel their heads in my direction. Oh, shoot, he really was in a meeting, huh?

"Umm, sorry?" I begin to sidle back toward the door when Karen pops her head around me.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kane. I tried to stop her, but she kept going, I?—"

"It's fine, Karen," he says without taking his gaze off of me.

"If you want me to tell her to leave?—"

"You can go now."

"Okay. Awesome." I turn to leave when his voice rumbles behind me.

"Not you, Lena."

Oh shit. Next to me, Karen shoots me a nasty look. I glower right back at her. She retreats out the door, and shuts it behind her. I draw in a breath, square my shoulders, then spin around.

"I wanted to ask you about the Delancey pitch, but it really wasn't urgent." I shuffle my feet. "It can wait."

"Why don't you come on in and take a seat?" He gestures to me.

"Eh?" I glance around the room, taking in the curious faces of those around the table. "Really, it's nothing important."

"Important enough to barge in, at any rate." His lips twist. Douchebag smirks as if he knows exactly how frustrated I am that I couldn't get an appointment to see him. And how urgent it was to get his signoffs so I didn't miss the deadline on this particular proposition. And that's the only reason I'm pissed off with him. That's all, I swear.

"Besides, my guests were leaving," JJ drawls.

"That's true." The man seated next to JJ rises to his feet. He nods at JJ, then turns away from the table and heads for the door. It's Declan Beauchamp, whose face is on the cover of almost every tabloid and online magazine, thanks to his recent streaming hit. I try my best not to stare at him, but as he passes by, he winks, and I flush. The others rise to their feet, too. One of them seems vaguely familiar. Maybe I saw something written about him in business magazines? He's wearing a tailor-made suit and is handsome in a standoffish kind of way. I also recognize a potential prime ministerial candidate, another man with dark looks and a swarthy countenance, as well as the man next to him who I'm almost sure belongs to the mob—not that I know what a mob boss looks like, but there's something about him that screams predator. I step back and give them a wide berth as they head toward the exit.

The only other woman among them is tall, statuesque with a striking mane of dark hair that flows past her shoulders. She sniffs at Hunter as she brushes past him and heads out the door. The fine hair on the nape of my neck rises. I know he's watching even before I turn and my gaze clashes with those black holes that are his eyes. Only this time, there's something burning in their depths. The nerve at his temple pops. Is he angry with me because I broke up his meeting? Not that I asked him to. I did offer to leave, didn't I? So why is he looking at me like he's about to shout 'off with her head'? I scowl at him.

He sets his jaw, then crooks his finger at me. "Come 'ere," he growls.

My stomach seems to hollow out. A frisson of awareness runs up my spine. I try to move, but my feet are stuck to the floor.

"Lena," he says in a hard voice, then points to the space in front of him.

I blink rapidly, forcing myself to move. I close the distance between us, and stop when I'm in front of him. "I swear I didn't mean to intrude on your meeting."

"Sure, you did. You were feeling left out, weren't you?"

"What? No," I choke out. "I was worried about the deadline on the Delancey project, that's all."

"Hmm." He looks me up and down. "Fine, I believe you."

"You do?"

"Of course, not."

I scowl. Jerk.

"You're my executive assistant. That's why you wanted to meet me. And you were right not to wait, not if it meant compromising on the success of such an important project. But that doesn't mean you didn't want to get my attention because you feel I've been neglecting you."

"You're right about the first, wrong on the second."

His grin widens. "If you say so."

"I do." I set my jaw.

He jerks his chin to the chair next to him. "Take a seat and let's discuss it, shall we?"

I take him through the pitch that the team and I have put together. He listens to me with complete focus and gives me feedback that's on point. Feedback that tears the work I've done so far to shreds. I stare in disbelief as he goes through each page on the presentation, pointing out my flaws, telling me what I could have done better, explaining why my assumptions were wrong... Why the creative was off direction... Why the copy used for the campaign we were presenting was drab and how it had bored him to tears. By the time he's done, my stomach is in knots and my guts churn. Anger squeezes my rib cage so hard, I can barely breathe.

"It's not that bad," I say around the lump of disappointment in my throat. My first project that I've worked on with the team, and he's torn it to shreds.

"Oh yeah?" He leans back in his seat. "This is the worst pitch I've come across in all the time I've headed up Kane Enterprises. I don't know what kind of work you're used to doing, but any presentation that leaves my office is world-class in quality. Our advertising clients expect the best, and this is far from the standards they are accustomed to from us."

I squeeze my fingers together in my lap. "It's really not that bad. It isn't."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

"I am not trying to convince anyone. Also, there isn't enough time to make all of the changes you've indicated."

"When's the deadline to submit this?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Well then, you'd better get started. You have" —he looks at the watch on his wrist— "precisely eighteen hours to get it right."

"At this rate, none of us will be able to leave the office tonight."

"Not my problem. It's not my fault you couldn't track me down earlier for feedback."

"You were busy. Every time I called, you were in a meeting. Karen wouldn't let me see you."

"Try harder next time." He pushes back from the conference room table and rises to his feet. "If that's all?—"

"No, it's not all. You're being unreasonable. There's no way we can make the changes in the given amount of time."

"Are you saying you're not up to the challenge?"

I glower at his handsome face. The gray hairs at his temples only add to his appeal. How I hate his smirking, gorgeous visage. How I want to wipe the smile off of his face and show him I'm not a lightweight. That I can take the criticism he's thrown my way, and turn this project around. I want to make him eat his words —and my pussy— No, not my pussy! How can I even think of his sex appeal and sex with him at a time when my career is in jeopardy?

"I am saying" —I rise to my feet and grab my tablet— "that it would help greatly if you would call the head of Delancey Products and ask for an extra day so we can get this right."

"No, absolutely not. Kane Enterprises has never been late with a presentation. We take pride in delivering the most effective advertising campaign within the given time."

"I wasn't in on the early meetings when the deadlines were set. If I had been, I'd have asked for a longer lead time."

"And I want to triple my turnover in the next year, but not all of us get what we want."

He pivots and walks over to his desk on the other side of the room. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to attend to."

He leaves me standing where I am, sits down at his desk and busies himself with his computer.

I stay there for a beat, another. He begins tapping on his keyboard like he's already forgotten I'm there. What a wanker.

I grip the frame of my tablet so hard my fingers ache. I'll show him. I'll deliver the best presentation that's ever gone out from this office. I spin around and head for the door.

"Oh, and Lena?"

I pause.

"Next time, I'll make you pay if you barge into my office."