Page 19

It starts with her laugh.

Jace is leaning over her desk again, saying something too low for me to hear. She tips her head back and laughs. Then he catches me watching and winks.

The pencil in my hand snaps.

Somehow Sloane Harper has turned the most controlled floor in San Francisco into a daily exercise in restraint. And it’s fucking infuriating. Because I never have to tell her anything; she just executes it. Meetings start on time. Problems disappear before I notice them. The woman is flawless.

It should feel simpler having her here. Instead, it feels invasive.

She doesn't give a damn that I'm the one signing her checks. She questions me, meets every unreasonable deadline I give her, and somehow manages to make me feel like I'm the one being evaluated.

It’s as if she were built to thrive under my tests and push my buttons.

Which is how we ended up with the phone incident.

The white paper bag appears on my desk at 11:20, steam still rising from whatever Sloane brought me fore lunch. By the time she returns from her break forty minutes later, I haven't touched it. Elias, Jace, and I are still on a conference call with Wallace, trying to untangle the distribution timeline for our upcoming launch.

"Nathaniel, I'm telling you, we can make the numbers work," Wallace says through the speaker.

"And I'm telling you those numbers don't account for the production delays," I counter, pulling up the latest projections. "We're already behind schedule, and I'm not approving distribution dates we can't meet."

Elias leans forward. "The revised timeline is with Legal. Once the contracts are finalized, we'll have a better idea of where we stand."

"Our distributors are getting impatient," Wallace replies.

"Then they'll have to be patient a little longer. I'm not rushing a launch just because Obsidian decided to move up theirs."

My office door opens.

Sloane walks in, takes one look at the untouched lunch bag on my desk, and stops.

Oh, here we fucking go.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." I hold up a finger, warning her to wait. She ignores it. "Mr. Blackwell, have you eaten anything today?"

"Ms. Harper, I'm in the middle of a—"

"Is that Sloane?" Wallace interrupts through the speaker.

Jace immediately starts grinning.

"It is, Mr. Wallace," she answers, moving around my desk to stand next to me. "How was Napa? Did Patricia enjoy the vineyard?"

"Oh, she loved it! She's still talking about that tasting you recommended."

Of course she is. In barely a month, my assistant has somehow managed to become familiar with the personal lives of people I've been doing business with for years.

"I'm glad to hear it," Sloane says warmly. "And please tell her I said hello. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to steal Nathaniel from you for a little while."

"Everything all right?"

"Oh, everything's fine. He just seems to have forgotten that human beings require food to function."

Jace bursts out laughing. Elias doesn't even try to intervene.

"That sounds like Nate," Wallace says, thoroughly amused.

I close my eyes.