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“As you wish, sir.”
His brief disappearance is followed by something that knocks all of the air out of my lungs. I snap my mouth shut to keep from openly gawking at the unexpected sight, but the inability to breathe remains.
Zel saunters in wearing a yellow high-waisted pant suit and designer bralette along with pointed heels. Her attire indicates business, yet the color indicates that this is personal.
How can it not be?
How stupid was I to ever believe the two would never intersect with us?
She adjusts the large briefcase in her clutches prior to flashing me a coy smirk. “Good afternoon, Mr. Whittington.”
I swallow the urge to tell her it is now.
That it hasn’t been since she chose her parasite of a sibling over me.
My fingers clamp themselves together in my lap to cease the fidgeting. “Miss Pierson.”
“Am I dressed to your liking for this meeting, sir?”
She slides a hand onto her hip, adjusting the boyfriend blazer that’s covering her top. Seeing her nipples harden under my stare instantly convinces my cock to swell, forcing my clenched grip to adjust itself to rest on top of it.
As much as I want to yank that top down and use the ends of her strands to tease the stiffened points, I resist the instinct.
Swallow the bitter truth.
She’s not mine for the taking.
Not anymore.
Not ever again.
“Mr. Whittington is fine,” I begrudgingly correct.
It’s impossible not to see the pain in her gaze, but I pretend not to notice.
That it doesn’t hurt.
That I’m not hurting being this close to her.
“My schedule said I had a meeting about contract negotiations.” A hand is motioned at the empty chair across from me. “What are you here to negotiate, Miss Pierson?” She settles in the seat while I continue to inquire. “Were the additional amendments not to your liking? Is this about the duration of your mother’s care? I can assure you I spoke with your mother’s team regarding her progress and assessed the continuation of their services accordingly.”
“No.”
“Have you come to negotiate the amount that I agreed to keep in your account for your remaining classes? Do you believe this is not enough? I had a financial advisor assess the educational situation prior to deciding. It’s more than adequate.”
“No.”
“Surely you’re not seeking an additional allowance for personal use.” The twitched glare can’t be stopped. “I would’ve been more inclined to include such a stipulation if it weren’t for the damage that was done to the penthouse because you let an uninvited guest into our home.” Longing springs into her gaze prompting me to correct. “My home.”
She swallows her sadness, stiffens her spine – an act that still gets me rock hard – , and shakes head slowly. “I am not here for more money, Elias.”
“Mr. Whittington.”
It’s her turn to narrow her gaze. “Mr. Whittington.”
“Then what is there to negotiate?”
“The signing of the paperwork.”
