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“It’s just that we had a robbery a little while back and the people in the offices wanted better security,” she rushes to explain as she walks next to me to the front desk.
“I understand.”
“Thank you,” she breathes as we reach the desk together.
“Byron Astor to see Bill Berkshire,” I say with crisp efficiency.
“One moment, sir,” says the man behind the desk, and he lifts his phone.
“You’re Byron Astor —theByron Astor of Astor Construction?” the woman gasps, giving me no choice but to turn my attention back to her.
“Yes. Do I know you?” I ask, giving her a second glance. I don’t recognize her, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I bet there are a dozen women I can pass on the street without recognizing them a month after I’ve taken them to my bed. They mean that little to me.
“No... not really, but my brother’s been working for you for three years, and he talks about you and your brothers and what a great job it is. I applied at your building a couple of times, but haven’t been called back,” she says, looking up at me hopefully.
“I don’t do the hiring,” I tell her, my standard reply when people approach about getting work.
“Oh, I wasn’t implying anything,” she hastens to say, but I can see the disappointment filling her eyes as she tries to smile. To my amazement, I feel a twinge of guilt. Should I at least offer the woman an interview?
“You’re cleared to head up to the eighth floor, Mr. Astor,” the desk attendant tells me. “Here’s your visitor’s badge.”
“Thank you.” I start walking away.
“It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Astor,” the woman says with an attempt at a flirtatious look. I say nothing else as I walk to the elevator. I want only one woman in my bed. And within the next few days, that’s exactly where I’m going to have her.
It’s a short elevator ride to the eighth floor, then I walk around the corner to Bill’s office. I’d honestly love to know what Bill does all day — maybe the old man simply plays solitaire on his less than state-of-the-art computer. Whatever makes him happy is all that matters, and if sitting in a downtown office is what he wants to do, I’m going to continue letting Bill think the rent hasn’t gone up in four years and that he’s paying fair market value on the space. He’ll never know we made a deal with the manager of the building and we’re the ones ensuring our friend stays where he wants to be.
When Bill looks up, I have no doubt I’m on the man’s naughty list — the old man is absolutely glowering at me. I probably deserve it for the many things Idowrong on a daily basis. So I’ll take the verbal abuse, and hopefully act humble enough to leave on Bill’s good side. I decide to wait and see what Bill will say before I speak. I don’t have to wait long.
“What in the hell are you doing playing games with a fine woman like McKenzie Beaumont?” Bill gruffly asks, slashing into me with a fierce stare from behind his desk.
“It’s good to see you as well, Bill,” I say as I move forward and take a seat in the chair facing him.
“Don’t patronize me, boy. I helped raise you, in case you don’t remember,” Bill grumbles, and the words I’ve heard my entire adult life make me smile.
I’ve never said I love anyone out loud, but without a doubt, I love this man — this gruff, grumpy man who’s probably the only reason I have any humanity left in me.
“I’d never think of doing such a thing, Bill.” I’m trying not to smile, or Bill might think I’m laughing at him, and that’s not at all the case.
Bill looks at me suspiciously for several moments before speaking again. “I asked you a question, Byron. Don’t think you can smile and make me forget why I called you here.”
“What have you heard?” I’m certainly not going to spill my guts if the man doesn’t know anything more than a rumor or two.
“Your brother told me how you went after this nice young lady, and that he’s worried you’re going to hurt her. I’ve met McKenzie, and I agree with Blake. She’s a beautiful woman, and she doesn’t deserve to be harassed by the likes of you,” Bill says, his glare not flickering.
“I’m not harassing her,” I insist. There’s no other man I’ll actually defend myself to other than Bill. Usually, if someone speaks to me this way — and it doesn’t happen often — I simply get up and walk away. I’d never treat Bill with disrespect like that, though. I’ll take whatever the man dishes out... for as long as he wants.
“You certainly won’t be anymore,” Bill says, enunciating each word.
I’m silent for several heartbeats and then sigh. I don’t want to give anything of myself away — I never do — but I feel as if I have zero choice right now. If I don’t give Bill something to chew on, this could get really ugly.
“Look, Bill, it might have started out with me... harassing her, or gunning for her, but it’s different now. I... I can’t get this woman off my mind. I can’t sleep, eat right, or even think most days. I just... I don’t know.” I rub my hand across my face. Even knowing everything I know, I have to admit to infatuation, if only a little.
“But you’re making her unhappy, so maybe you should back off. Maybe she doesn’t want to be with you,” Bill says, but his voice quiets as he observes me. This is the last thing I want, and my defenses pop up, but with a lot of willpower I push them back down.
“She wants to be with me,” I tell him. “Believe me, if I felt she had no interest, I’d back off, but there’s something between us, something that can’t be denied. She’s scared — and I don’t know what she’s scared of, but she’s running, and it’snotfrom me.”
“How are you so sure it isn’t you she’s running from? You Astor youngsters have always had humongous egos.”
