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The question turns me rigid. The sudden stiffening of muscles brings fresh pain, some of it in places I didn’t realize were injured. It is stupid to react this way, stupid and detrimental because I need to please this man. And I should have anticipated Montgomery knowing about that part my past, even if I excluded it from the resume I submitted.
After all, his HR team has had two weeks to run a preliminary background check. Aside from hiring authoritarian trolls to work the security desk, the company’s HR department is, by all accounts, top notch. So, of course, they sent my resume along with a note that I am THAT Katelyn Willow, the flaky middle-distance runner who made the U.S. Olympic team nearly a decade ago then dropped out of the games and off the face of the earth with no explanation publicly—or privately—tendered.
“Couple of times a week,” I answer, slipping the broken phone into my satchel and snapping the bag shut. Hearing the sound of an engine, I glance to my right and confirm that Montgomery's limo has entered the alley. With precious few seconds left to make my pitch, I look back to Montgomery…and freeze.
He has stepped closer, his expression unreadable as he studies my face. I wait, hovering on the edge of breathlessness, for him to say something.
Before he speaks, he does the unthinkable for someone having just met me. He lifts his hand and lightly brushes the scraped line of my jaw.
“Does it hurt?” he asks.
Ignoring the question, I up the wattage on my smile. “Are there any other positions available?”
One dark, thick brow inches up his forehead, his mouth relaxing as he gestures at the limo rolling to a stop behind me.
“We can discuss it on the drive.”
“Drive?” I ask.
My hand tightens around the satchel as Montgomery reaches alongside me to open the door. I am standing within the path of the door’s arc. Once again, he does the unthinkable and wraps his free hand around my waist and draws me to him.
I suck a breath in, shocked by this second display of intimacy and the seemingly possessive nature of his grip. I release the breath, praying that he hasn’t noticed my reaction. My overreaction, really. Montgomery is a man accustomed to moving obstacles, even living ones, to suit his needs. No matter how badly it sets my stomach to fluttering, his touching me means nothing to the man.
He is just moving an obstacle.
That is what I am.
“Yes, drive.” He nods at my ankle. “You wouldn't have gotten mugged if you used your own vehicle or took a cab. So you took the rail. I won't allow you to walk to the station and then home on that mess.”
Allow me?
Desperate for the job or not, my spine stiffens. My chin lifts as the heat that was lighting my belly surges angrily up to ignite my cheeks.
Montgomery seems to notice my budding outrage. He offers an indulgent head shake, the smile shaping his lips sensual as he slides a hand down to my hip—shocking me all over again.
“Inside, Katelyn. Preferably before both our images are plastered across the papers tomorrow.”
He moves closer, as if herding me. I catch a whiff of his cologne. Warm, heavy spices that smell straight from my favorite bakery hit my stomach, redirecting the fire once more to pool low in my gut. I clutch at the limo’s roof, eyes closing involuntarily as I seek balance against each new, unnamable wave of reaction Montgomery produces in me with his casual touch and too familiar manner.
His bossy, self-entitled manner.
Seriously, I ponder. Just who the hell is he to order me into the car?
Even if it is an air-conditioned, deeply cushioned car and I am standing on a sprained ankle. At best, he’s being patronizing. At worst…
Catching myself biting at the corner of my bottom lip, I pop the flesh out and curse the stupid habit inside my head. A master negotiator, Montgomery has likely noticed and interpreted that small bite as a sign of indecision.
And he is absolutely correct. I am indecisive! He is being grabby, no matter how smooth his touch. He controls the cameras in the alley. There is a police report noting that another man put bruises on my body today. All external factors that might otherwise protect me are nullified. But, damn it, I was mugged! I am physically drained. I haven’t eaten since very early morning and my ankle throbs like hell. I am also paranoid and emotional from the assault, which means I don’t know if I am overreacting.
What I do know is that I need this man to give me a job. Bobbing my head around while I think this through will convince Montgomery that I am crazy. And I know better than most the fate of a woman pronounced unbalanced by a powerful man.
His thumb smooths against my hip, the touch too soft to be impatient. The last of my equilibrium sloughs away. The ground goes wobbly beneath my suede pumps.
He tightens his grip. “Don’t faint on me, Katelyn.”
Faint on him?
As if!
