Page 8 of In His Office

“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.

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