Knot Falling For A Christmas Heat
Page 8
“I’m not your type. And we both know who is.”
CHAPTER 5
ALEXEI
No way was three weeks going to be enough. Fuck. Ryder’s scent was somehow drifting in under my office door even though I’d shut it, and it was all I could do not to storm back out there and bend him over his desk. Something about the way he refused to even contemplate the sexual tension between us was driving the alpha in me to distraction.
Nate had tried to tell me I needed a temp for longer, but that plan had quickly been derailed when they kept quitting on me. The fundraiser next week that had led to me being desperate enough to hire Ryder was only part of the avalanche of work coming at me. The assistant position wasn’t associated with any of my companies or the shadier side of what I did. It was for me. Personally. I had too many balls in the air to be able to juggle them all without smashing some if I didn’t have an assistant to handle the endless correspondence and calls coming in and prioritise my time between the people who needed to see me. Trusting someone to do that took time, though. Time I didn’t have.
What I did have was a sexy-as-fuck temp who’d somehow managed to revolutionise my calendar, in a good way, in the three days he’d been there. All while single-handedly saving the day with the damn hockey event. The invoices coming across my desk to sign were for things neither Nate nor I had even considered. Things that would lift the profile and make the night shine for the media.
Nate had been great. Had been dependable. Ryder, it was quickly becoming clear to me, was inspired. He was also creative. Whether it was the entertainment and decorative touches he was arranging for the fundraiser, or the way he’d colour-coded my calendar and introduced clever intuitive short-hand, to make sure I could see at a glance what businesses my day was focussed on and what was movable when the inevitable urgent clash emerged.
An urgent clash like the rival gang one of my enforcers had just messaged me about. It wasn’t even eight in the evening on a Friday night and already someone was trying to muscle into one of my clubs. Probably in an attempt to undercut me and supply dodgy-as-fuck drugs to my punters.
A soft knock at the door to my office interrupted my thoughts.
“I’m just finishing up. Did you need me to stick around for your conference call with Paris?” Ryder asked, his voice so neutral it was almost monotone as he paused just inside the entryway.
“I need you to reschedule it. Something’s come up.” Usually, I’d leave the mess with the gang for my people to deal with, but tension had been buzzing beneath my skin for days and I needed some way to burn it off.
Ryder’s brow furrowed. “You’ve postponed them twice already.”
“Invite them out to my yacht next week. I’ll cover the cost.”
“From Paris?”
I arched a brow. Surely, my assistant had picked up on how little I cared for the cost of things by now.
“Right. Of course. That’s a totally reasonable offer for a one-hour meeting with a company you’re not even currently in business with,” Ryder muttered. “Did you need anything else?”
I scanned him from head to toe, taking in the way his tailored white shirt hugged his slim form and his slacks highlighted the definition in his legs. Things would go smoother at the club if I had a distraction. A reason to explain my presence so I didn’t tip off the gang trying to set up shop there before my crew was ready to expel them.
“Come find me when you’ve rescheduled my evening.”
Ryder huffed a breath, clearly annoyed at me, but he did as I asked. Such a good boy. Was it fair to drop him into the middle of a turf war? Probably not. Was my blood thrumming through my veins imagining his take-no-shit attitude out in the real world supporting the part of my business closest to my heart? Fuck yes.
I couldn’t wait to see whether he’d stay all professional and proper, or whether the club scene and violence would break through some of the walls he was keeping high around him. I wanted to get a peek at the guy I saw on my screen every night when he went home and livestreamed. The one who sounded like pure sex and moved like every alpha’s wet dream.
Ryder returned ten minutes later, laptop in hand as he rattled off the arrangements he’d made for the visit next week. Rising from my chair, I stalked around my desk and plucked the device from his hands, tossing it carelessly onto my couch.
“We need to go,” I said, reaching up to loosen his tie and throw it in the same direction as his computer.
“What? Where?” Ryder asked, his momentary confusion enough to let me get away with starting to undo the buttons of his shirt.
“One of my clubs,” I said, still unbuttoning.
“Stop that,” Ryder said, knocking my hands away as I reached his sternum. When I managed to drag my eyes up from the smooth skin my efforts had revealed, I could see his pupils were dilated.
“You need to look the part.”
“What part?”
“My arm candy.”
“Oh, fuck off. That’s well outside my job description. Not happening.”
Closing in on him, I forced him to retreat until his back was pressed hard against the door. He was silent as I trailed my finger across his collar bone. The only sound in the quiet of my office was the hitch of his breath. Leaning in even closer, I ran my nose up his neck, letting my stubble drag against his scent gland.