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“I’ll take care of it,” I muttered to Chuck.
Even as I said that and moved around him, I felt Chuck shadowing me as I approached Hale Wheeler.
I couldn’t think on Chuck.
With his presence filling up the space, I had no choice but to be all about Hale Wheeler.
I mean, really. How was his existence even fair?
He was gorgeous. He had great taste in clothes. He was fit. He was fiendishly loyal to his family. And he had enough money to end food insecurity around the globe, and he might, because he wasn’t about being rich, he was about something else entirely.
All that and integrity too?
It was annoying.
“If it isn’t the Extraordinary Mr. Wheeler. To what do I owe this honor?” I asked.
His pale green gaze flicked to Chuck before it came back to me.
“Your office. Alone. Now.”
Four words. Each one of them uttered in a deep, rough growl.
For a moment, the only response I could focus on was what those words did to my nipples.
After I recovered from that, I noted he appeared ticked.
Although I’d been in the same place at the same time as him, I’d avoided him for reasons I refused to explore.
Nevertheless, I’d seen what could amount to hours of footage, not to mention thousands of photos of him going in and out of buildings, entering and alighting from cars, walking down sidewalks, attending events, and doing such things I normally blocked out, like surfing or eating dinner with a beautiful woman.
So much of all of this, it felt like I knew him.
Therefore, I could tell when he was angry.
Like, for instance, now.
I studied him.
I liked what I saw.
I stopped studying him.
“All right,” I agreed, that infernal characteristic I would swear I’d been born with—curiosity—overriding good sense (as it had a wont to do, hence my occupation).
“I don’t—” Chuck started.
I turned to him. “I’ll be okay.”
Chuck stared down at me for a beat. I knew he didn’t like it, but he eventually jerked up his chin.
I led Hale to my office, which was tiny, windowless, and not all that attractive. Everything in it was secondhand.
I’d splurged on what sat on the dais, as well as my makeup table and director’s chair, both of which were out in the studio.
This space?
Well, even though I attempted to balance work and life (I failed daily, by the by), I did my best to shut down when I went home, so I tried not to work when I was at home. This meant I spent a lot of time in this studio, and the office.
