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Four
Samuel needed to break something.
Quickly.
Standing before him, a group of investors with the power to change the future of Kane Foods forever vied for his attention. He’d been courting them for over a year at his father’s insistence. Ski excursions in Aspen. Fishing trips in Key West. High-roller weekends in Vegas.
After all that work, here they were offering him everything he’d ever wanted, and he wasn’t listening to a single thing they were saying.
Because of her.
Because of that dress.
Because of the torture that was Arlie Banks.
Samuel had stolen greedy glances as she’d moved through the crowd with Mason at her side, looking every bit the golden god. His brother procuring her champagne. His brother touching his glass to hers. Samuel had nearly bit through his tongue when Mason leaned in, whispering something that caused Arlie to erupt into a spontaneous burst of laughter that vacuumed ten years from her face.
He’d watched as, together, they’d made their way to Marlowe’s side, his brother’s hand at the small of Arlie’s back. Then, just as Samuel had been both terribly pleased his plan was working and quietly dying inside, Arlie had looked right at him.
Not with the kind of darting, nervous glances she’d managed in his office that morning.
Really looked at him. No, not just at him.
Intohim.
Like she knew him. Like she knew something about him.
A look that shot straight through to his soul by way of his cock.
“Are you quite all right?” Henry Campbell, father of his sister’s fiancé asked, his posh British accent revealing none of the tension his face displayed.
“Apologies,” Samuel said, desperately sifting his short-term memory for any scrap of conversation he could respond to. “I’m afraid I missed that.”
With his beady eyes, rounded belly, and dark gray suit, Campbell looked like nothing so much as an offended pigeon. “I said, I spoke with your father and we’re ready to move forward, but—”
But.
But the breeze came and Samuel’s head instinctively swiveled back toward Arlie, watching as the panels of fabric of her dress parted, revealing the pale length of her thigh.
A thigh he could easily imagine hooked over his hip as he tasted her mouth, pushing her panties aside so he could—
“If your attentions are needed elsewhere, we can certainly discuss our investment in the Kane Foods gummies division another time.” Now Henry Campbell didn’t just look piqued, he looked pissed. The team of yuppie lackeys welded to his bespoke coattails mirrored his look of refined displeasure.
What the hell am I doing?
“Forgive me.” He did his best to drag his attention away from the lurid scene he couldn’t seem to banish from the screen of his mind. “While we’re certainly excited to have Campbell Capital as a partner, I’m sure you’re aware how...attached my father is to our gummies division. It was the very first automated line in the original Kane Confectionary building. Once we’ve arrived at a reasonable arrangement where equity is concerned—”
“A reasonable arrangement?” Campbell raised an eyebrow. “I thought the percentage we discussed at our last due diligence call was more than generous.”
A predatory thrill coursed through Samuel’s veins.
He loved this part.
Reading his adversary. Learning their weaknesses. Figuring out exactly where and how to apply the proper pressure to get what he wanted.
Because he always did.
“Well, it would be, if your data analysts hadn’t wildly undervalued the division’s recurring revenue streams,” Samuel said, reveling in Campbell’s obvious discomfiture.
He was a man not used to being on the defensive.
“Gentlemen.” This one word, delivered in Mason’s overly affected listen to how charming I am voice, had Samuel’s hands tightening into fists. “May I borrow my brother?”
Even without turning, he knew Arlie was with him. If the acute, electric tingling at the base of his spine wasn’t evidence enough, the appreciative gleam in the eyes of Campbell and his cronies as they looked past Samuel would have been a dead giveaway.
“We’re in the middle of a discussion, Mason. Can’t this wait?” he snapped.
“No,” Mason said, folding his arms over his chest, his skin a tanning-bed bronze against the pristine white of his dress shirt. “I’m afraid it can’t.”
With a heavy sigh, Samuel addressed the entourage. “Gentlemen, can we revert offline?”
“Of course.” Campbell nodded curtly before shuffling off into the crowd, his loyal satellites trailing in his wake.
Once they were gone, Samuel focused his full attention on his brother, doing his best not to look at Arlie, who hovered behind his shoulder like a golden ghost. “What is it?”
Mason beamed an infuriatingly jovial grin. “I thought you might like to introduce Miss Banks to some of our team. Seeing as you are our chief executive officer.”
Samuel’s jaw tightened. “You seemed like you were doing a perfectly fine job.”
“I’m afraid my attentions are needed urgently at the bar.”
Arlie and Samuel both followed the direction of his gaze, where a small congregation of leggy, laughing ladies were worshipping the god of Frosé.
Resentment oozed in Samuel’s gut. As he had with so many assignments before, Mason wanted to hand off the single task he’d been given for the evening.
Clearly, more careful orchestrations throwing Arlie and Mason together would be required.
