The lobby rewards me with cool air. I pause for a beat to compose myself, and just my luck, the first person I spot is Liam.
Casually sauntering through the lobby, he sips his coffee. Those forearms. God help me. My stomach dips—unfairly, stupidly—at the sight of him.
His white shirt sleeves are rolled up, and he is wearing a navy vest. A fucking suit vest—no tie. It’s the sexiest get up ever.
I groan inwardly and step behind a tall plant, because the last thing I need is another elevator ride with him.
Especially since he’s so perfect and I’m… well, I’mmetoday. He looks like a Vogue spread. I look like a warning label.
Even here, he has an advantage. He doesn’t even have to rush to work because he’s still staying in the Merged guest suite. Asshole.
Cal reassured me they offered him the room so they could keep an eye on him, but right now, it just adds to his offenses.
His suit pants are hugging hisperfect ass as he makes his way toward the elevators. Four more weeks before the partners decide, and I wonder if it’s too long or not long enough.
When the air is clear, I catch the next elevator and hope the day improves from now on.
“Roxy.” Alina jumps from behind the reception desk. “Where have you been? Mr. Quinn is looking for you. He doesn’t look happy.”
“Calm down, Alina. He never looks happy.”
She giggles nervously, and I try to take my advice and calm the fuck down. I can’t walk in there in this frazzled state.
As sad as it might be, I consider Corm, Cal, and Declan my family. They accepted me when I needed it.
Their egos might be larger than the Pacific Ocean. They might be ruthless, and often disconnected from reality. But they never made me feel like I’m less.
And somehow, I feel that if Liam wins this stupid competition, I will fail them. It makes no sense, but the stakes are beyond my happiness, and fuck, the pressure is too much.
I knock and open the door. Corm is standing with his back to me by his wall of windows.
Liam sits in the visitor’s chair in front of Corm’s desk. Not in the guest seating area, which alreadymakes my hair stand. Fuck, this is not a friendly meeting.
Liam doesn’t seem concerned, though. He sits casually, one ankle over his knee as he… what? Also admires the view?
“Where have you been?” Corm turns.
I check my wrist, where I don’t wear a watch. “The office hours start in five minutes.”
Corm frowns. “That’s kind of late for you.”
“Is that why you wanted to see me?” I take a seat beside Liam without an invitation. And without acknowledging him.
It’s enough that I’m hyper-aware of him, those forearms, that vest, his scent, even his casual posture.
I love it all. I hate it even more.
“Never mind.” Corm takes a seat. “Care to explain why Graham fucking Miller and his sons believe Vireon is interested in a phased acquisition?”
My stomach drops. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’ve seen Corm upset. I’ve experienced his anger aimed at me. I’ve seen him eat his opponents for breakfast.
None of that prepared me for this moment. In the weeks after the meeting with the Millers, I was too busy managing my libido and avoiding Liam. I forgot to prepare.
“Because that’s what we proposed to them,” Liamsays, calm and composed, but a sideways glimpse reveals him flexing his fingers.
For some reason, that calms me down. I’m still not sure what that habit means, but I’m pretty sure it’s his coping mechanism.
