Man Feast (Bergen Brothers Book 2)

by Krista Sandor

He took a step closer, nostrils flaring. “Buttoned-up bullshit? Is that how you speak to your employer?”

  Oh, hell no!

  “Employer?” she bit back.

  “Yes. That’s when an entity, me, pays an employee, you, for services rendered.”

  The nerve of this man!

  “I’m under contract to consult with Bergen Enterprises, the company your grandparents founded. Can you say nepotism?”

  “Nepotism or not, I’m still the CEO of Bergen Enterprises. That means you work for me. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to get out of this collaboration, but I know what you’re getting out of this. I’m still floored my grandparents offered you such an outrageous sum of money.”

  She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “What I get out of it? Remember this, Mr. CEO. Your people came to me. Your very lovely grandparents want me.”

  Her chest heaved inches from his. She stared into his eyes and hated that he could evoke this kind of response. She watched him. The frown was gone, and he clenched his jaw. He seemed to be doing everything in his power to maintain that icy, untouchable Jasper Bergen demeanor. He held her gaze, and she’d be damned if he was going to make her blink.

  “Really? We’re doing this?” he asked.

  “Doing what?” she hissed, gaze locked with his.

  “A staring contest. A little juvenile.”

  She opened her eyes wider. “Then blink.”

  He lowered his voice. “You blink.”

  “I’m not going to blink.”

  “This is insane, Eleanor.”

  “Then end it and blink, Jasper.”

  Her eyes watered, but there was no way in hell she was backing down.

  Yes, this was childish.

  Yes, she was a twenty-nine-year-old woman engaging in a staring contest with a billionaire. The way her day was going, she wouldn’t be surprised if the sky opened up and hail started falling.

  “Enough, Eleanor,” he said through gritted teeth, the gravelly hint in his voice settling beneath her belly.

  She matched his tone. “Stop calling me Eleanor.”

  “Why? It’s your name,” he answered, that low rumble fanning the flame inside her.

  She opened her eyes wider. “I go by Elle.”

  He leaned in, unblinking. “Eleanor suits you better.”

  The warmth of his breath tickled her lips. It sent a rush of heat through her body.

  She doubled her resolve. “How do you know what suits me? You barely know me. I bet you haven’t even read any of my books.”

  “Nope, not one chapter. Not one page. Not one word,” he said, gaze widening.

  “Then I guess you wouldn’t know that a shaman in Tibet taught me how to go into a deep staring trance. I could do this all day, Bergen.”

  “Did you put that in one of your travel guides?”

  “I guess you’ll never know.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “I call bullshit.”

  Jasper’s almost-smile was not helping her ignore the electricity coursing through her body. Fighting with Jasper Bergen elicited a buzz akin to skydiving.

  “You might as well blink. You’re not going to win. I have mystical powers.”

  “I always win,” he bit back.

  Now it was her turn to almost smile. What was it about this idiot that made her act like a deranged beauty pageant contestant?

  “Lady! I don’t know what the hell kind of weird mind shit you and your boyfriend have got going on out there. But I need both of you to get out of the street. We’ve got other repos to get to!”

  She gasped, blinked wildly, and spun toward the truck. “He is not my boyfriend. This man is the furthest thing from my boyfriend. He is a hollow bunny, and I will not be taking a bite out of him!”

  Oh shit! What the hell was wrong with her? She was a master of words until Jasper Bergen appeared.

  The driver looked at Jasper. “Does she need medication or something? I can always call the cops, and we can do this the hard way.”

  Jasper glanced at her. “I’m going to speak with the driver. Stay here.”

  “I’m not letting you talk to the driver. And I’m certainly not staying put!”

  “Eleanor, that guy looks ready to call the police and report an unhinged woman who is impeding his ability to do his job. Would you like to spend the day in a holding cell?”

  She chewed her lip. Her cousin would be heartbroken if she got herself arrested and missed her engagement party.

  She crossed her arms. “Fine.”

  “Don’t do anything crazy.”

  She raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll be sure to keep these where everyone can see them.”

  “Good call.”

  She sighed. “I was kidding.”

  “I’m not. No sudden movements. Do you understand?” he said, the gravelly tone coating his words.

  Jesus! Why was his take-charge, tin man routine getting her so amped up?

  “Eleanor?”

  She pushed the thought out of her mind. “Yes, I’ve got it.”

  Jasper turned and walked to the driver’s side of the tow truck. He shook the man’s hand and leaned in. Elle closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her eyelids. She’d met a shaman in Tibet. That part was true. But the staring trance malarkey? The hollow bunny was right—total bullshit.

  She dropped her hands, opened her eyes, and caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the mirrored building across from The Dalton. Hair falling out of a half-bun. Lipstick and eyeliner smeared as if she’d allowed a toddler to give her a makeover. A slash of dishwater gray across her white jacket where she’d taken the brunt of the splash. She was surprised the repo guys even believed this shiny Porsche belonged to her.

  Jasper tapped the hood of the tow truck, and the vehicle crept forward. He walked to her and lightly gripped her elbow. “We have to get out of the street now.”

  His touch was gentler than she’d imagined. Steady. Reassuring.

  She released a shaky breath. “I’m not letting them take my car.”

  He fished an item from his pocket. “Here’s the towing company’s business card. Once you get everything sorted out with your lease, the guy says they’ll be happy to return the vehicle.”

  She plucked the piece of paper from his hand and stared at a smudge across the logo. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

  “Jesus! What?” he asked.

  “Look, it says, for all you’re towing needs. Y, O, U, R, apostrophe, E.”

  “Yeah?”

  “They used the wrong your.”

  A muscle in Jasper’s jaw ticked. “Eleanor, we need to get out of their way. The guy really does have nine-one-one ready to go. As we speak, his greasy thumb is hovering over the call icon.”

  She sighed. “Okay, already! I’m moving! I’m moving!”

  She clenched the card in her hand and allowed Jasper to guide her to the sidewalk. The roar of the truck’s diesel engine cut through the crisp air, sending a puff of black smoke toward the sky. Chains rattled as the vehicle dragged her beautiful SUV down the road like a prisoner.

  Frustration coursed through her in angry waves. Her money. Her car. And all for what? For that smarmy man to buy a boat. Every word she’d written. Every place she’d visited. All the work she’d done. He’d stolen the fruits of her labor. She was back to square one. She glanced at the tow truck driver’s card, and anger edged out frustration, and she exploded.

  “You have a spelling error on your business card! That’s a major grammar violation, you car towing cretin!” she called out as the truck rumbled by.

  The driver extended his hand and flashed her the bird, and her vision went red.

  “You piece of…”

  She started to chase the truck. Arms flailing as her backpack slipped off one shoulder and dangled at her side. She pitched forward, stumbled, and nearly ate it on the pavement. But before she hit the ground, hands gripped her waist and pulled her back.

  “Jesus Christ
, Eleanor!” Jasper said, surprise lacing his words.

  She leaned against him, gasping, and watched the truck sail around the corner with her beautiful car and disappear into the city.

  “It’s just a car,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

  Just a car? It should come as no surprise that someone who’d grown up wiping his ass with hundred-dollar bills would say that.

  She’d worked hard, damned hard, and earned every penny that moron shyster Monty stole. She swallowed back the shame of her situation just as Jasper’s hands tightened, and in the space of a breath, she was fully aware of his body, strong and solid behind her. And those hands. They spanned her waist. Fit her curves. And was he…

  Before she could decide if Mr. Billionaire CEO was getting hard at her misfortune, he stepped away from her and cleared his throat. Universal man code for I don’t know what the hell to do, so I’m going to stand here and make guttural sounds.

  Elle slipped the fallen leather strap over her shoulder and stared at the man standing in front of her. Why the hell was he here?

  “Did you come to see your brother or something? You know he and my cousin are already up at Bergen Mountain.”

  “No, I didn’t come to see Brennen. I’m staying in The Dalton’s penthouse.”

  “You’re staying here? Since when?”

  “Since yesterday.”

  “Why? Don’t you own like three hundred other houses you could go to?”

  “Seven.”

  “Seven, what?”

  “Seven houses. My family owns seven houses. Four in Colorado and three in other parts of the world. There are several condos as well.”

  She stared him down.

  He cleared his throat again. “I’m having some work done on my place in Cherry Creek. It’s taking longer than I’d expected, so I’ve decided to stay in the penthouse.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “I live in this building.”

  Now it was his turn to stare at her like she was an idiot.

  “I know you live here, Eleanor.”

  She nodded. “Right! Whatever! I’m going inside. I need to change and grab my bag so I can head up to—”

  “Bergen Mountain,” he supplied.

  “Oh, shitballs!” She groaned, running her hands through her hair and demolishing what was left of her bun.

  “Shitballs?” he repeated.

  “Yes, shitballs!” She pulled out her phone. “I have to call a car service.”

  He cleared his throat—a-freaking-gain.

  “Stop doing that throat thing and just say whatever you want to say, Jasper.”

  He held her gaze. “You can ride with me.”

  “All the way to Bergen Mountain?”

  “No, I’m going to kick you out of the car and make you walk the last mile.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “Yes, all the way to Bergen Mountain. What the hell kind of person do you think I am? We’re going to the same damn place, Eleanor. Your cousin is going to be marrying my brother. And for better or for worse, you’re a part of the Bergen rebranding. How about we call a truce?”

  She weighed his words, remembered her very lightweight bank account, then thought of her mom. She couldn’t screw up this job.

  “Fine, truce.”

  She put out her hand, and he took it. His palm pressed to hers, and again, she was surprised by the ease in which they fit together. He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand, and the contact sent a buzz through her body. She pulled back, but that brief touch was enough to leave her missing his warmth.

  Sweet Baby J, she needed to get laid! Her vibrator wasn’t cutting it anymore. That had to be it. Between the stress of her financial situation and her prolonged sexual drought, she wasn’t in her right mind.

  Jasper started to clear his throat, then stopped. “Here’s the plan. I need to head up to the penthouse and get my bag, and you need to…” He waved his hands as if he was Cinderella’s fairy godmother, trying to transform her from her current troll state to something more pleasing to the eye.

  She pointed to her face. “Do you have an issue with this?”

  “No, I just thought you’d like to freshen up.”

  She stood there.

  He shifted his weight. “Can we just go inside, get our shit, and head up to the mountain, Eleanor? We’re already going to be arriving later than I’d wanted.”

  She sighed, the adrenaline rush wearing off as fatigue set in. “That works for me.”

  They entered The Dalton and rode the elevator in silence. The doors opened onto the eleventh floor, and she stepped out.

  “I’ll come down and knock on your door.”

  She nodded. “Give me ten minutes. I’m in 11B.”

  She watched the doors close and listened to the mechanical hum as the elevator ascended one floor up to the penthouse level.

  She walked down the hall, mulling over her situation. Abby was engaged to Jasper’s brother. She was under a contractual obligation with Jasper’s company, and now the man was living on the floor above her.

  She unlocked her door and threw her keys on the table. She’d only just returned from a trip a few days ago. And in those few days, life had gone topsy-turvy. She’d had her first blow-out meeting with Jasper Bergen, had Brennen Bergen ask her to help plan a surprise marriage proposal for Abby, and she’d learned her finances were in shambles.

  She didn’t bother turning on any lights in the main room and nearly tripped over a shoe or something on the floor before heading to the bathroom. She flicked on the light switch then reared back.

  Holy Mary!

  She looked like a bag lady who’d walked through a car wash then rolled in the gutter just for kicks. She grabbed a brush and worked it through the tangled mess of thick chestnut hair, which only made things worse. Frizzy pieces stood out between hardened slush-encrusted clumps. Glancing around, she spotted her beloved Fell’s Peak ball cap and pulled it on. Then she wet a washcloth and tried to do damage control on her face when she heard the door to her apartment creak open.

  “Eleanor, are you ready?”

  Oh, crap! Was he here already? At least she was packed.

  She checked her reflection—hideous but passable for a human being thanks to the hat—and darted out of the bathroom and into the darkened living room.

  “That wasn’t ten minutes!” she said, taking off her white slush-splattered coat and grabbing another jacket hanging off the back of a chair.

  He glanced at his watch. “It was six minutes.”

  “Right! When a woman tells you ten minutes, you give her the full ten. A real gentleman would tack on a few more.”

  Confusion marred his features. “Like twelve minutes?”

  She blew out a frustrated breath. “Fourteen seems reasonable to me.”

  He turned on a light and met her gaze. “So, when you tell me you need ten minutes, I should give you fourteen?”

  She crossed her arms. “You don’t spend much time with women, do you?”

  “Well, there’s my grandmother.”

  “She doesn’t count.”

  “She’s a woman.”

  Good God! This man!

  “She’s your grandmother. I mean, women your own age. Don’t you date?”

  He shifted his stance. “Do you date?”

  “Let’s just go,” she said then stopped and stared at the giant pink vibrator in the middle of the room.

  “Is that a…?” Jasper began.

  This damned day!

  “It’s a neck massager,” she answered reflexively.

  “Why is it laying in the middle of the floor?”

  What was she supposed to say? Because I decided after God knows how long that I needed a little relief and found thirty seconds of battery-powered bliss on my living room floor? She glanced at Jasper, who was biting back a smile. The bastard thought this was funny.

  She waved her hands in frustration. “Because it is. Can we go?”

  She glar
ed at the pink plastic, hoping she’d spontaneously acquire laser eye superpowers and be able to fry the damn thing to a crisp. After five long seconds spent staring, she gave up and met his gaze.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to pack it and bring it up to Bergen Mountain? What if your neck starts hurting?”

  “My neck is none of your concern.”

  She bent over, swiped the faux cock off the ground, and tossed it into her bedroom where it hit the floor with a thud and started vibrating, the soft buzz rattling against the hardwood.

  “Looks like the batteries are all charged up,” Jasper remarked without even the hint of a smile.

  Jackass!

  He feigned concern. “Don’t you think you should go turn it off? We’ll be gone a couple of days.”

  “It’s fine,” she shot back.

  “What if your neck hurts when you get home? You won’t be able to use it if it’s out of batteries.”

  She pointed to the door. “I’ll buy more! We’re leaving!”

  In one day—no, in one hour—Jasper Bergen had witnessed her car being repossessed and got to see her vibrator. Even more mortifying, it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

  Neither of them spoke during the elevator ride down to the lobby. They left the building and headed toward Jasper’s Audi. She could still smell the tow truck’s diesel exhaust in the air and cringed, remembering the tow truck fiasco. And her car! Her beautiful car! She’d never driven a luxury car before. That Porsche was her you made it girl present which was now probably sitting in some dirty lot under lock and key.

  Jasper cleared his throat and she shook her head, pushing her car blues away, and turned to him. “What are you doing?”

  “Opening the door,” he replied as if he was trying to figure out if she was asking him a trick question.

  She didn’t move. “That’s the passenger’s door.”

  He stiffened. “I’m sure as hell not letting you drive my car.”

  “I wasn’t insinuating that I’d drive your car, but you don’t have to open my car door.”

  He nodded and looked away. “Force of habit.”

  “Ah, right! You must do it for your grandmother.”

  “Yeah, I do. What’s wrong with that?”

  She slid into the seat. “I’m not your grandmother.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Eleanor.”