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32
There are onlysix of us in the boardroom—Noel, myself, Lewis, and the three other board seats: Kenneth Spiers, Amanda Row, and George Lipton. But when the official business surrounding Oliver abandoning his crusade concludes, the cheer that fills the room is deafening.
Lewis smiles at the group.
“Well, unless there’s anything else—”
“Actually,” I raise my hand. “One last thing.”
Noel, one ankle up on his knee, laid back in his chair with his fingers raking his perfect jaw, turns to eye me curiously.
I clear my throat.
“This board oversees a trust belonging to Ms. Naomi Laurent.”
Noel’s eyes narrow.
“Lewis, I think we’re done—”
“We’re not, actually,” I smile sweetly at him, ignoring the way his fiery gaze makes my knees shake.
Ignoring the way his hand creeps towards his phone sitting on the table in front of him.
It hasn’t been a very long meeting. But five times already, he’s randomly turned the vibrations on, arresting my breath and turning me to liquid fire in my chair. He didn’t when Lewis was talking, when Amanda Row talked about redistribution of voting shares, and even when he himself was talking.
One second, I’d be fine. The next, I’d be gripping the edge of the table—knuckles white, eyes rolling back, and my pussy so fucking wet it’s probably soaking the back of my skirt.
I clear my throat, exhaling a shaky breath. I watch his hand hesitate, not quite at the phone and its ability to make me whimper in pleasure.
“I think it would be good to allow Naomi to have more of a say in her fund. More of a guiding role.”
Noel scowls.
“Whatever for?”
“Because it’s her money?”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s her prick of a father Paul’s money, technically.”
“I’d like to hear this through actually, Noel,” Amanda says crisply. She nods at me. “Go on.”
Noel sighs heavily.
“She doesn’t have the slightest background in finance.”
I shrug. “She could learn. I think it would be good for her, and I think she’d appreciate it.”
“Ella—”
“I move to a vote.”
He frowns, stroking his jaw, eying me.
“Very well,” he grunts. “Lewis?”
Lewis stands and begins to go around the table collecting “ay” votes. When he lands on Noel last, the broodingly gorgeous man drums his fingers on the table for a second. Then he sighs.
“Fine. Ay.”
