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“That’s because you’re spoiled.”
Harri pouted. “Harsh.”
“True.”
“You’re just being defensive because you don’t want to talk about Dario.”
“Of course I am. Deal with it.”
The timer on the cooker began to beep.
Switching it off, Alicia declared, “Food’s ready. I propose we eat in silence.”
Harri winged up a brow, her lips quirking. “So you don’t want me to question you about Dario some more?”
“Don’t be a brat to me all your life, Harri.”
“Why not? It’s way too entertaining to stop.”
∞∞∞
“Good morning,” I said to a well-groomed male seated behind a very modern desk the following day. “My name is Addison Davenport. I have an appointment with Mr. Mercier.” Which my central nervous system was handling perfectly well.
Oh, what a lie.
The PA stood with a smile and offered his hand. “Hello, Miss Davenport, I’m Benjamin.” He gave my hand a quick shake, adding, “Brie at the front desk downstairs said you were on your way up. I’ve already notified Mr. Mercier. He’s ready to see you now. If you’ll just come with me …”
I trailed behind him, my heels click-clacking on the oak flooring, my stomach in knots. He stopped outside a stylish walnut door. A gold nameplate hung there that, along with the company logo, sported the words “DAXTON MERCIER, CEO.” The PA knocked on the door, and a deep voice bid him to enter.
He swung open the door. “Miss Davenport, sir.”
“Thank you, Benjamin,” said a deep, distinctive voice packed with smoke, velvet, and little grains of sand.
Hearing it made a shower of memories pelt me like hailstones. Many of those memories were somewhat X-rated, and it was a total wonder that heat didn’t flood my cheeks.
Fuck, you’re tight. You’re going to feel me for days, Addison.
Forcing myself to loosen my death grip on the strap of my black, leather satchel, I stepped inside. The office was nothing like mine. Luxurious and elegantly masculine, it was all dark woods, shiny leather, and clean lines.
I didn’t take in much of my surroundings. My attention went straight to the male stood near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, a mug in hand. A pair of mismatched, dark-ringed eyes—one a glacial blue, one a rich green—honed in on me with lethal precision, the whites so clear they made the colors even more vivid.
My pulse skipped, my belly took a nosedive, and—damn it all—an uncurbed, biochemical attraction worked its way through me … leaving me mentally flustered and feeling so very, veryalive.
Funsies.
Neat and well-groomed in his dark, tailored suit and black shiny loafers, Dax looked as refined and powerful as he did brutally sensual. There was no denying it—the man had style. And a tongue that could perform sexual magic, but it was better if I didn’t think about that.
His short, stylishly cut hair was sleek and black. A fine layer of dark scruff dusted his strong jaw and the strip of skin above his upper lip. A lip as sensual and full as the one beneath it.
He was way over six-feet. His clothes did nothing to hide his toned build. Seriously, his body wasyum.I’d always loved watching his hard muscles fluidly flex and flow in his arms, chest, back, and broad shoulders as he moved. His butt … it was so firm and, gah, I really wanted to bite it. Just once.
The thin, faint scar slicing across the side of his face matched the one on his right palm. Both scars ramped up his air of civilized aggression; warned of the danger lurking within.
In sum, Dax Mercier was a beacon of devastating, unabashed masculinity.
I gave my chin a respectful dip. “Mr. Mercier.” It seemed better to keep things formal; it would help remind me I was here in a professional capacity.
A glint of humor briefly danced in his eyes. “Miss Davenport,” he greeted, the words smooth as silk.
