Iam impressed, goddammit.
And regretting that I eavesdropped. The spying was easy, since Declan dialed in from London and I simply joined the line.
It also looked like a great idea, but now I’m not so sure. Tapping my headset, I disconnect from the meeting.
I swirl in my chair, letting out a breath that doesn’t relax me. Maybe I bit off more than I can chew.
I let myself wallow for a beat. The feeling of failure spreads through me like a slow-acting poison. It’sunfair that I’m up against someone who’s been managing companies for years.
Someone who’s been groomed to excel at these things.
Me? I was groomed to keep my head down and pretend that throwing a tea party is an achievement.
Maybe I’m just a note-taker. Too inexperienced to become a partner. But I’m already in the running. Am I really going to give up this early on?
Unfortunately, I don’t like my current options.
I either walk into that boardroom and present a decent, but definitely not a winning plan.
Or I walk in there and ask for an extension. But it’s not like I can improve my presentation. Not without stealing Liam’s ideas.
I would rather present my version than become a copycat.
The infuriating part is that whatever I pick, he wins. And that’s what adds insult to injury.
It’s been two weeks since he barreled into my life and almost kissed me.
The worst part? I still think about that almost-kiss. And I don’t even know why.
My body has been acting weird since that night at the sex club. It makes no sense, and it’s absolutely infuriating.
It’s like having sex—arguably the best sex of my life—infused my body with horny hormones. My vibrator might soon file abuse charges.
In the past two weeks, when I needed to be on top of my game, I found myself spacing out, my mind drifting away.
Many times, replaying the night at the sex club. I wish I had taken Romeo’s number. Having a fuck buddy on the side would solve my current lust issue.
Because I might think about the sex club night more than I care to admit, but my stupid mind wanders to that not-kiss even more often.
What is wrong with me?
I groan and almost jump from my chair when my phone vibrates inside my desk. Fuck. My skin goes cold even before I see the name.
Pulling the top drawer open, I decline the call. Only three people call my private number.
Somehow, my brothers haven’t discovered I have another phone. I guess they didn’t think of looking.
The last thing I need is to deal with my family right now. No fucking way. The phone buzzes immediately. They won’t stop until I answer. I know that.
I also know that focusing on my future will get me much further from my past. So I turn the phone off, staring at it as if I could make the people on the other side of the line stop interfering with my life.
“Are you okay?” The velvety baritone startles me. And why must he sound so similar to Romeo?
I groan and lift my gaze.
Oh, my God.
Liam leans against my door frame, looking like the king he is—owning the air, the space, the entire zip code, and not even trying to.
