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Lexi
Hunter’s domain. Seeing the office empty and bathed in soft lighting makes me look at his world differently. Like his home, his office is so clean I could lick the floor, and I wonder why he has such an aversion to disruption of any kind. The walnut desk gleams in the lamplight and the marble floor polished and reflecting everything around it. There are no plants to care for, just bookcases filled with scary looking volumes, all leather bound and stereotypical of what I always imagined an office like this to look like.
It’s actually quite traditional, unlike his apartment which is modern to the extreme. Mind you, this has to be to suit its surroundings because these offices drip wealth and ooze power and it’s a heady cocktail, especially in the presence of the man who rules over it.
He sits behind his desk with the panoramic view of New York as his canvas and I feel a little awkward now I see him on his throne with only the lamp light illuminating his face. “I’ll, um, be stalking Miss. Baxter if you need me.”
I edge toward the door as he flicks on his computer and his deep voice stops me in my tracks as he points to the leather chair beside a fireplace in the room. “Share a drink with me first.”
He nods toward a decanter of amber colored liquid and it all looks so inviting, I nod. “Ok, I can’t let you drink alone.”
He heads out from behind his desk and somehow in his natural habitat he seems even more impressive now. Hunter Blake is like corporate porn. Dripping in power and dressed in dollar signs. His dark hair makes him seem even more forbidding and the eyes that are framed by thick brows appear to strip you of any humanity as you stare deep inside them. Every gesture he makes demands attention, and every word out of his mouth is listened to with reverence.
I curl up on the seat and watch him pour two brandies and as he offers one to me, the intoxicating fumes waft my way and it feels so decadent, so forbidden and so exciting to be me right now.
The paneled woodwork creaks around us as he sits opposite and loosens his tie, revealing the hint of a broad chest with a smattering of chest hair on what is most certainly a fit chest.
He stares at me the whole time as I sip my drink awkwardly, trying so hard to not blush under his soul stripping gaze. The brandy adds to my heightened color, and the alcohol lowers my defenses as he says in a deep voice, “So, this relationship, run the rules past me again.”
For some reason, I swallow hard as I imagine how this will pan out in public. I’m not sure I can go through with this without falling a little for my enigmatic client and so I say brightly, “We’re together, you know, girlfriend and boyfriend. It’s purely for cover to keep the wannabes away and we need to act convincing as if we’re planning our wedding or something.”
“How?”
“What?”
“Can we act convincingly? Any sharp-witted person would see from a mile away we’re not comfortable with one another, not to mention how we met. What is the story, by the way?”
“We met when you were out running one day. You ran into me and it was love at first sight.”
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
“Have you got a better idea?”
“We met at a bar, late one night when you were stood up by your date. You were approached by a guy who was drunk and I saved you by pretending to be your date. We got talking, and you ended up in my bed and never left.”
He smirks, and I roll my eyes. “Like I said, you’re an asshole.”
He laughs softly, and it sends shivers down my spine. I love this side of him. The relaxed, contemplative, complicated side of him that reveals a glimpse of a human in there after all.
I cross my legs and note his eyes follow them and feel a little heated as I imagine what he would be like. In fact, I haven’t stopped imagining that since I sat in this office just a few hours ago. He disturbs me in every way and mainly because he is threatening my no touch rule and I’m the idiot that wants to break it the most.
“So, our behavior in public, what’s allowed?”
His low voice startles me back into the conversation, and I shrug. “I don’t know, holding hands, loaded looks, that sort of thing.”
“So, no kissing then.”
“Do you usually kiss women in front of your friends and family?”
“No.”
I smirk and he looks at me so intently I stop breathing for a moment, “But I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”
“What, never?” I stare at him in surprise, and he shrugs. “I told you, no time. Any dates I have I barely tolerate standing next to them, let alone touching them in public.”
Shaking my head, I feel a little sorry for him because he is so shut up in himself, he is missing out on what makes life worth living.
“Then we need to practice that.”
