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Chapter Six
After spending a ridiculous amount of time on her wardrobe that morning, Kensley was finally seated and waiting in the reception area of the new CEO's office, dressed exactly the way she wanted to be dressed.
She was early. It was 8:45 a.m.
Armed with her own new contract, all typed out and slipped into an opaque folder, and an extra dose of her favorite perfume on her wrist, she was as ready as she was ever going to be.
Sandra eyed her suspiciously. She probably assumed Kensley was there to beg for her job back, given her uncharacteristic attire, but Kensley remained silent and continued to shower the older woman with broad smiles from her vibrantly painted red lips.
She was going for sexy sophistication in her suede high-heels, burnt-orange sleeveless blouse, which dipped just a bit down her cleavage, and a black pencil skirt with a cute little slit up to and a little above her left knee.
She had debated leaving her hair completely untethered but decided to stick with a slight variation of her usual style. Instead of a neat bun, she pulled off a high, chic ponytail, leaving her tresses hanging pin-straight down to almost the middle of her back.
Nowhere on the outside did it show how she trembled like the virgin she was on the inside. Had she lost her mind? As soon as doubt poked its head into her business at hand, she stamped it out with thoughts of her grandparents.
She was going to employ a supremely long shot to help them. If she failed, she would have to chain herself naked to Everry Place in protest against Infinity Construction.
Dear God, what am I getting myself into?
Worse, she had unlocked an entirely new state of apprehension—not even knitting could soothe her frayed edges now.
But it was too late to change her mind, mostly because she didn’t have the luxury of a solid Plan B and she really didn’t want to have to chain herself to Everry Place naked if she could help it.
As if he went around sucking the air out of places, Hunter McLeod, in all his scary glory, entered the reception area. After a curt greeting to Sandra, he turned his attention to Kensley.
She stood but had to look behind her, just to make sure she hadn't left half of herself dissolved into on the chair that she had vacated, at the mere sight of him.
“Mr. McLeod,” she said first. She needed to maintain control.
“Ms. Reid,” he said, and she gulped down an already out-of-sync breath. He gestured for her to enter his office before him. She stalled. She was being so utterly juvenile that she wanted to poke the heel of her shoe into the toes of her other foot.
“Are you afraid to be alone with me, Kensley?” He asked softly, with a slight mocking lilt in his deep tone.
She had to get a grip. If she had any chance of pulling off this twisted thing they had going on, she couldn't be afraid to be alone with him just because he ruined her underwear. No matter what weird, uncanny things Hunter McLeod did to her body, she had to use her brain against him.
She had to bring out her Ice-Maiden.
Thankfully, Charles Smith arrived before she had a chance to act on his remark, and she had to stop herself from hugging the other man to death.
“Kensley,” Charles said warmly. She returned his greeting, maybe more enthusiastically than was required, and walked into the office.
The men waited for her to be seated before taking their own. Hunter McLeod sat like a king behind his massive desk, while Charles sat next to her again, on the opposite side.
“Well, Kensley. Will you be bringing in your own legal representative?” Charles asked with a sincere smile on his face.
“No, it's just me, thank you.” She desperately tried to be neutral as she answered Charles, but she also wanted to touch wherever she felt Hunter’s gaze on her, which ignited her cells and made her burn up.
She had to remember that he was the enemy. If he told her to take her counteroffer and stuff it, which was a real possibility of happening, he would still be messing with her grandparents' lives. He was her enemy first and foremost.
“Mr. McLeod,” she began right away, trying to tuck away her trembling body. Now was not the time to show any of her deficiencies when it came to him.
She removed his contract from the folder and placed it in front of him, feeling a little embarrassed when she had to smooth out the sheet of paper a bit.
“Thank you for your generous offer, but I'm afraid I’m going to have to decline. However,” she continued immediately, not looking directly at him to see how he might have reacted to her telling him ten million dollars wasn't going to get him her virginity.
“I have a counter-offer. One I hope you will take into due consideration.” From the same folder, she retrieved the contract she had whipped up last night, with Marcy hanging over her shoulder like an inquisitive, hyperactive child.
He drew the new contract closer to him, and she imagined those long, hard, and beautiful fingers of his touching her thigh the same way he touched the slip of paper. She nearly croaked out loud. It was as if, since meeting him, she had developed a strange acoustic language that contained only garbled omissions.
