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Not because of her makeup or layered clothes hiding a body made for sin, but because the vast majority of her shots are so natural.
It’s damnably compelling.
I stop on a familiar picture of Alki Beach from the day I went out kayaking and tap on a Reel next to it.
In the video, she’s still red-faced from yelling at my stubborn ass, the wind tossing her hair back in a messy ribbon that slaps the side of her face.
Somehow, she’s still got her shit together enough to talk at length about harbor seals.
This version of her, all wind-swept hair and bright smiles, is almost hotter than the tall, dressed-up bombshell I just chewed up in my office.
Yeah, fuck.
There’s a disarming sweetness about her that’s too appealing to simply gun down and send her packing like I want to.
It shouldn’t quell my paranoia so easily.
Yet, it’s oddly reassuring to see all this evidence that her energyis, actually, focused on the environment.
“Do you see it now?” Hannah taps the top of the tablet, clearing her throat.
“She’s... not as bad as I initially thought,” I admit grudgingly.
“See? I promised you I’d pick the best person. That’s her. No sign of greed or glad-handing whatsoever. Miss Destiny Lancaster truly is our best candidate for shining you up, sir.”
Fucking sigh.
I know she’s telling me the truth.
She always does.
I’m just trapped in my own stubborn jackass of a brain and I know it.
Still, I can’t just unceremoniously kick this girl away.
Especially when her sterling image is exactly what I need to sideswipe the Dumas scandal and redirect Home Shepherd’s reputation from the personal mud flying around.
If this woman—startlingly pretty and all about philanthropy—can reassure the public that I’m not a bodice-ripping mafia brat intent on fucking and dumping everything I don’t get killed, she’ll shut down the rumors.
She’ll make people forget and I’ll look like Mr. Fucking Clean.
It’s too perfect.
What I need, what Hannah wants, and what Destiny offers, all tied up in one neat package.
There’s a touch of smugness in Hannah’s smile as she reads the capitulation on my face. This is what I get for hiring a PA who’s too capable.
Snarling, I shove the tablet back in her hands, and she tucks it against her chest.
“Fine. We’ll keep Miss Lancasterfor now.Go put her to work, keep her busy, whatever. Just don’t let her go anywhere.”
“Yes, sir,” she says as I head back to the elevator. “Oh, and purely my personal recommendation, but a little apology might not hurt.”
Sure.
About as much as a little kick in the nuts.
“Whatever. Just stop gloating, Miss Cho.”
