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I pull on the dress Theodore picked for me and do a quick two-minute makeup routine.
And then I sit… and wait.
And hope that when Kingsley returns, it’ll be without her.
He doesn’t return.
Half an hour later, when I finally summon the courage to knock on his office door from the apartment side, and then step inside, the office is empty.
Sounds on the other side, though, tell me the office is starting to fill up, but Kingsley is nowhere to be seen.
“Luna!” Marcus says, surprised when I open the door. “Early start?”
“Er, yeah. I was just picking up the notebook I left here yesterday.”
“Okay, well, everyone’s in the conference room for the roundup on yesterday’s focus group numbers.”
“Is, er, Kingsley…”
“He’s just finishing up some business and will join when he’s ready. You ready? We can walk down there together if you want?”
I don’t really have a good excuse for saying no. And the last thing I want is to give any indication that something is going on with me and Kingsley.
We haven’t talked about what our relationship is. Hell, we haven’t really talked about anything. And the last thing he needs is me outing him for me being his—er, his what, I don’t know.
Whether I want to admit it or not, the “current gold digger” line cut.
Deep.
Not the gold digger part.
Thecurrentpart.
It’s just another reminder that I don’t know much about him at all, least of all his dating history.
Settling into a seat in the corner of the conference room, I have a clear view of the door, and when Kingsley finally joins the meeting five minutes after it starts, I try to catch his eye to give him a smile, but he’s all business.
“Connors, give me the rundown on the numbers from yesterday again,” he commands, his mood obviously stormy as he flips open the folder Marcus hands him and settles down in his seat at the end of the long table.
And he doesn’t look at me once for the entirety of the forty-five-minute meeting.
“Thanks, everyone.” He stands when Marcus clears his throat around nine thirty and stands, buttoning his suit jacket.
Before I can stand, he’s already out the door and halfway to the elevator, his face a mask of indifference and distraction.
Confusion churns in the pit of my stomach.
I’m not sure what the run-in with his mother this morning meant, but he didn’t sound too happy to see her. He also didn’t seem thrilled at the idea of introducing me to her.
And now he can’t even give me the time of day.
Kingsley Baxter is an infuriating motherfucker to deal with. He holds all the cards.
And I’m not sure it’s a game I’m equipped to play.
**
I’m sitting in my office, going over some of the documents Kingsley had printed out for me a few days ago about some of the projects and mergers Hamilton has been working on, when he appears at my door around lunchtime.
