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“You, of all people, are well aware of how unpredictably volatile Kingsley is. So I should be the one to ask you what’s wrong with him after his coma. Maybe he hit his head too hard?”
“Yeah, no. You’re not using a reverse questioning tactic on me, Aspen. You’re hiding something, I can feel it, taste it, and smell it in the air.”
I wave him off, opting to disappear in my office for the rest of the day and potentially indefinitely.
Before I can take a step, the door flings open without so much as a knock.
Only one person in this building would dare to barge in on the managing partner of the firm.
And the strangest part is that I feel him before I even see him. As if there’s a stupid connection between us or something.
When I lift my head and my eyes clash with Kingsley’s stormy ones, I’m struck by that scary feeling I had when he actually paused the sex marathon and we talked.
A feeling that goes beyond the physical and dabbles in much more obscure territory.
He slams the door shut, proving to lack a gentle bone in his body, and marches toward us with sure determination and knitted brows.
If he could be less dashing in his black suit and groomed appearance, it would be much better.
Though the last time I saw him, he was out of the suit and looked a great deal more lethal with that weapon between his legs.
My thighs shake in remembrance and the ache I took a bath to erase springs back to life.
I internally curse myself for thinking about him naked and reacting violently to it.
Nate is here, for God’s sake.
Stay calm.
Stay calm…
Kingsley stops a hair’s breadth away from me, but not before he douses me with his all-male cedarwood scent. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
My mouth opens, then closes before I snap back, “What the hell is wrong with you first thing in the morning? Didn’t get a coffee?”
“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here when your vacation isn’t over?”
“Because I actually have work to do, and oh, check the calendar. It’s an age where women don’t get told what to do.”
“Check your contract. It’s a piece of paper that says I’m your boss and, therefore, will tell you what to do, how to do it, and when. Which is right now. Get the fuck out of here before I call security to throw you out.”
“I’ll record the whole thing and report you to the board for abuse of power and if I’m in the mood, I might sue you for compensation, too.”
“Tough shit, witch. Suits that are based on pure spite are my specialty. Good fucking luck winning against me in court.”
“This is popcorn-worthy and all, but why do you look like you’re on the verge of kissing or tearing each other’s clothes off? Maybe both and not in that particular order?” Nate speaks from my right.
Kingsley and I jerk backward. Or I do, anyway, heat rising to my neck. The fucking asshole who’s able to provoke me with his mere presence simply steps back. His expression doesn’t even change, still pissed and closed off and all other negative emotions that he excels at displaying.
“Not in this lifetime,” I say in answer to Nate’s question.
Kingsley narrows his eyes on me in pure disapproval before his rigid façade returns. I know I won’t like what he’ll say before he opens his mouth. “Then you would be a liar.”
I pause, Nate pauses, and the whole world seems to tilt into silence.
What the…
The fucking—
