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I stare too long, and Mr. Riley clears his throat, his brilliant grin still firmly in place.
“Um… Evie,” I choke out while taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. “Evie King.”
“Ms. King. Charmed to make your acquaintance.” Mr. Riley turns to command the center of the room with little effort, and I rush to heed my sole directive—read him. He’s almost as tall as Bellamy. Nearly as intimidating even—there’s something about the way he stands, his gaze fixed, that warns me he’s more than a formidable match to any business opponent.
But no one can come close to Graeme Bellamy when he’s in one of his moods, and unfortunately for Mr. Riley… he is.
“Let’s begin, shall we?” Bellamy runs his hand along the front of his suit, smoothing out every nonexistent crease and wrinkle. Rather than make him seem nervous, the motion has me gritting my teeth in wary anticipation.Oh no.It’s going to be one ofthosemeetings. I may have never owned dogs, but I certainly know a pissing contest when I see one.
Adrian Riley merely nods in agreement and returns to his desk. As if following some unseen cue, the door to the office opens, and a woman enters—the same woman who met us near the elevators. She carries herself with enviable confidence, like someone very much aware that the eyes of every nearby man with a pulse are watching her—Bellamy included. Her tanned skin glows, her dark hair framing her flawless face.
“This is Dahlia McNair,” Mr. Riley says by way of introduction. With a wave of his hand, he indicates her shapely form while her green eyes simmer in the spotlight. “I hope you don’t mind if she sits in as well. Consider her my legal counsel.”
There are only two free chairs. I don’t know whether to stand or claim one for myself, but Dahlia breezes past both to take up a post behind Mr. Riley. Though she places one hand supportively on his shoulder, her gaze is fixed directly over my surly boss.
Rather than object to her appearance, Bellamy just strides over to the nearest chair and takes a seat, setting his briefcase down beside him. He’s barely straightened his posture before jerking his chin toward the empty chair. “Sit, Evelyn.”
Biting back a sigh, I obey, and pry open my planner. My pen is ready, and with my free hand, I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, prepared to take notes. Curiosity has me riveted to the impending conversation before I can help myself. Adrian Riley. Apart from magically springing up in Mr. Bellamy’s daily schedule, that name still sounds familiar.Riley. Riley.I’m so busy trying to pinpoint how I recognize it that I almost miss the words the man in question directs at my boss.
“I must say that I was surprised when you expressed interest in the merger outright,” Mr. Riley begins in a controlled tone. “From what I remember, you aren’t one to share. Considering the gravity of your current success with Atelier Noir, I had assumed you’d be eager to have me take what is obviously a lesser priority of yours off your hands. That offer still stands, of course—”
“Well, you proposed an interesting prospect, and I never back down from a challenge,” Bellamy bites back. “Why sell? Two highly successful clubs on different continents may seem impressive to some, but one coalesced entity? It would expand our range of clientele and introduce Atelier Noir to the forefront of those who might be interested in our wares. Even if my club is a ‘lesser priority,’ I can still see the benefit of a promising business venture when one presents itself, and I am always willing to use my success as an example to others. After all… From whatIremember, you always wanted what I had. This way, at least, we both benefit.” He lets the potential hang on the air while I scramble to decode their cryptic banter.
Club—not business. Obviously, they aren’t talking about Atelier Noir, but it isn’t like Mr. Bellamy doesn’t have a million other ventures to choose from. I doubt they’re referring to the charities, though. Or the real estate he sometimes dabbles in. In my three years of working for him, I’ve never heard anything about a club mentioned. The third ominous surprise in one day. This can’t be good.
“I was of the same opinion,” Mr. Riley admits drawing my attention back to the two men. He continues to smile as he laces his fingers together, inadvertently cracking each knuckle. “You’ve done well in your corner of the world, but together… We could take both of our interests, as well as the club, to new heights of prestige.”
“Ideally,” Bellamy says.
Watching their exchange is a bit like keeping up with a tennis match. My head keeps bouncing back and forth from player to player. On the other hand, Dahlia seems perfectly content to divide her time between casting admiring looks at Adrian and curious ones at Bellamy. There’s an air of unfinished business underlying this whole meeting, and I feel like everyone, but me is on the same obscure page.
“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Mr. Riley says. “Though, before we make any rash decisions, you should come by the club. See how things are done on this side of the pond. Are you free anytime this week?”
“Evelyn,” Bellamy snaps. I can’t help thinking that it’s merely for show. The only person more well versed in the life and schedule of Graeme Bellamy than myself is none other than Graeme Bellamy. Still, I take my time scanning the planner for any evening activities. Apart from the few hours he spends each night staying late at the office, there are none. Not that I’m stupid enough to mention as much out loud.
Like always, I take my cues from his posture—the stern set to his jaw warns me against giving an honest answer. Ironically, it was easier to know what Graeme Bellamy wanted without actually listening to what he said. You merely watch and decode him the way one might some peculiar, abstract piece of artwork that the artist thought he was so damn smart for thinking up.
“I’m sure with a few calls, I might be able to rearrange some appointments,” I reply instead, facing Adrian Riley directly. “Who should I contact to arrange a date?”
If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Riley’s smile quirks even wider. “You can contact me personally,” he says, his voice warm. “Anytime. Here is my card.”
“Thank you.” I have to stand and approach the desk to take the small business card he offers. It’s white and exceptionally designed, with his credentials printed in black ink. I do my best to scan it for pertinent information, all while convinced that Bellamy’s eyes are boring a hole through the back of my head.
Goodness, I can feel the tension crackling off him, piercing and electric.
“Until next time,” Mr. Riley says as I step back. Only then does the suave smile drop, revealing the expression lurking underneath. He’s not as easy for me to read as Bellamy, and I can’t quite decide what emotion glints within those eyes. Smugness? Boredom?
A heavy hand falls over my shoulder before I can reply. “Iwill schedule the meeting,” Bellamy declares from behind me. I know, without even turning around, that he’s still scowling, his eyes that ominous shade of blue. “Evelyn,” he barks before withdrawing his hand from me. I turn to find him already strolling out into the hallway, briefcase in hand. By the time I catch up, he’s barged into an elevator.
I expect to find him still surly and glaring, but the Bellamy who reaches out to strike the button for the ground floor almost looks… normal, and something about that makes me uneasy.
“That was a short meeting,” I say before taking my place at his side. I glance down at my watch and have to choke down a gasp. I’d blocked out an hour for this meeting in my planner. It barely lasted fifteen minutes, leaving a whole forty to spare.
“Too long,” he grunts while adjusting his tie. I notice his gaze drifting from my face down to my throat. Goodness. It’s like he’s trying to see whatever Adrian Riley had in me. By the time he finishes his swift appraisal, he’s frowning. “I’ll pick the time to meet with him again.”
His eyes are on the business card that I surreptitiously tuck into my planner before snapping it shut.
“Alright. But, um, is he a friend of yours? So I know how to categorize his details into your contacts, I mean.”
