Page 9 of Recovering Ivy

That voice.

I turned and came face-to-face with the woman who’d plagued damn near my every thought today. She rocked back on her heel and her eyes widened. I grabbed her arm before she could take a header and pulled her close to me.

“Thank… you,” she stuttered.

“Susan, this is Mr. Gold. This is my assistant, Susan Black.” Forester made the introduction.

“Nice to meet you, Susan. Please call me Zane.” Ivy’s cheeks pinkened and relief washed over her.

What the actual fuck was going on?

Did Ivy play me?

“Please, let’s sit,” Forester suggested and pulled his own seat out and sat. Douche.

I released Ivy and pulled the chair to my left for her to sit first.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

She had on a sexy red wrap dress. I knew if I peeled it back I’d find my bite marks on her perfect tits, shoulders, and stomach. I felt my cock stiffen and my anger spike. I fucking hated not knowing all the intel before I walked into a situation. I was kicking my own ass for not asking Declan to see the picture of the hot PA he’d hoped was clean so he could bang her.

Fuck.

Why did I want to kick Declan’s teeth down his throat for thinking about fucking Ivy? Never, not once in my life, had I ever been possessive over a woman. My Knob Creek, sure. My 35-year sherry cask Bowmore whisky from Islay, abso-fucking-lutely. A woman I had fucked once? No. It was laughable.

The waiter came, and we ordered our drinks. Small talk was made and the entire time I was seething. Declan was right, I didn’t see any indication Ivy was anything more than Forester’s assistant. She was distant, and her interactions were forced. If I had to guess, I’d say she wasn’t a fan. I excused myself from the table under the pretense I had a call. Once I was outside, I pulled my phone out and called Garrett.

“I need you to email Forester Grant from his office. I don’t much give a shit what you say, just so long as he has to leave the bar and go back to the office,” I told Garrett.

“No problem. It will take two minutes.”

“One more thing, clear the conference room. Susan Black’s real name is Ivy. I don’t have a last name.”

“Her name is Ivy Daly, twenty-seven. No priors.”

Twenty-seven, fuck. I was ten years older than her. I’d practically robbed the cradle. Maybe it was time I started checking IDs and running background checks before I bedded a woman.

“Who does she work for?” I asked.

“No one. No work history for the last year. Before that she worked as a real estate agent.”

“Is she married?” The thought of Ivy fucking me while married made me want to punch a wall.

“Negative. No husband, no kids.”

“Anything I should know?” I asked.

“She’s boring. I can’t find any ties to any organization. The only thing I found was she is a smoking hot, single, out of work real estate agent. Just to say, I’d buy a house from her. I bet the men who attended her showings were buying the fantasy, not a house.”

“I’m aware of what she looks like,” I growled. Intimately aware; I’d tasted and touched every part of her. “Get Forester gone and I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

I disconnected, not wanting to hear any more about how hot my friends thought my woman was.

What. The. Fuck.

She was not my woman. The woman. A woman I’d fucked, that was all she was. The violence I’d felt when I heard Declan and Garrett talk about her was only because she’d been the one to walk. Besides, I liked redheads, feisty women who drove me crazy. Not sweet, doe-eyed brunettes who hid behind a mask and a happy-go-lucky smile. The mere fact I was giving Ivy a second thought pissed me right the hell off.

This ended, tonight.