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by Adriana Locke

  “He did,” I grumble, turning away from my computer so I’m not tempted to check my email. “Barrett just spoiled the news.”

  “Are you helping get things together?”

  Sighing, I look out the window. “I told him to send me contracts before they signed them. I’ll have our attorney look at them and make sure we pay for them through the company.”

  “I hope your siblings tell you how much they appreciate you,” she says.

  “I just hope they all sign prenuptial agreements,” I laugh. “Lincoln is all ‘I’m in love and I’m not signing shit’ right now and it’s ludicrous. I like Danielle just fine. But that doesn’t mean Lincoln doesn’t need to cover his ass.”

  “Assets, Graham. Cover his assets,” she corrects me. “I agree, but it’s Lincoln’s money to gamble with. I hate to say that, but it’s true. He’s a grown man.”

  “Sure he is. He’ll have some grown man problems on his hands if this doesn’t work out.”

  “You know, sometimes things aren’t so black and white . . .”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

  “It means that sometimes things get blurry. Lincoln loves Dani, Graham. If he believes in that, maybe we should too.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t. I just said it was ignorant.”

  “Oh, son,” she laughs. “I need to go. I have an appointment at the salon at four. I just wanted to check in and see how you were. Think we could do lunch this weekend?”

  I glance at the pile of work on the corner of my desk. “I’m still really behind, Mom. I’ll probably be in the office all weekend.”

  “What if I order you over here? Pull the Mom Card? Or tempt you with a homemade coconut cream pie?”

  “I’ll try. How’s that?”

  “Better than no,” she sighs. “I love you, Graham. Make sure you’re taking time for you, okay?”

  “Love you, Mom.”

  I hang up the receiver and sit back in my chair. The hours upon hours of work I’ve been doing is starting to add up. I can feel it across the back of my shoulders, in my thighs when I stand. It’s just an accumulation of stress and rigidity that’s starting to wear me down a bit.

  Swiping my coffee cup off my desk, I head to the coffee maker for a fresh cup. As I pass the door to my office, I hear Mallory’s voice on the other side. Pausing, my hand on the knob, I listen to another man’s voice. I’m not sure who it is, other than it’s not one of my brothers.

  I pop open the door, my jaw pulsing, before I realize what I’m doing. Leaning on her desk is a man in a brown work uniform, a package sitting between them. Mallory is leaned away from him, rolled away from her desk a few feet.

  “Excuse me?” I ask, causing them both to jump.

  “Oh, Graham!” Mallory gasps, her hand flying to her chest. She reads my pressed lips correctly and stands. “Can I get you something?”

  Instead of answering her, I flip my glare to the delivery man. “Are you done here?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry,” he stammers. “I just had a package to drop off.”

  “That looks accomplished. You can go now.”

  He bolts out the door like a flash of lightning. I give Mallory one quick look before retreating to my office.

  My jaw still clenched, I don’t bother to sit down. I won’t be able to sit still. I’ve run off delivery guys before, ones that try to get out of doing their job by chatting up my employees. But this time, it wasn’t about time management. It was because I was jealous.

  I haven’t felt that tinge of fury in a long fucking time, and I hate it just as much now as I did back then. I forgot what it felt like to have your blood boil in such an animalistic way, that caveman desire to mark your territory. Only thing is, she’s not my territory. She’s not my anything and she can’t be. It would be like this every fucking day and everything would fall to pieces. This feeling is not what I want. It’s not what she wants, either.

  I feel her behind me. The air shifts, a lavender scent rippling around the room. My body is on alert as she comes closer. I don’t have to turn around to know that.

  “Graham? Is everything okay?” she asks.

  “Fine,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Did you get your package?”

  “No,” she says. “I got yours.”

  I fight the smile on my lips and continue to stare forward. I need to get a hold of this ridiculousness before it overtakes me.

  “I have to say,” she says as she comes around into full view, “I thought your package would be bigger.”

  “Is that so?” I ask, trying not to break.

  A ruby red dress skims the curves of her body, a shiny necklace tucked in her cleavage. None of that is as spectacular as her smile.

  This is the exact fucking reason I’ve avoided being around her today. My cock is hardening, my tongue nearly panting as I watch her body move in that damn dress. How did I ever think this could work? I’m a fool.

  “It’s a printer cartridge,” she says. “I’ll put it in the media room.” We watch each other, the force between us stirring once again. I swear you can almost see it. “I just . . . You aren’t upset with me, are you?”

  “No.” I force a swallow. “Of course not.”

  “Good.”

  She runs her hands down the front of her dress the same way I do my hair when I’m flustered. Her lip is in between her teeth, her eyes on the floor.

  I lift her chin with the tip of my finger. My chest tightens from the moment I touch her and I know it’s a mistake, but I do it anyway. “Mallory?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m not sure I could be upset with you for anything,” I say much more gravelly than I intend.

  Her head tilts to the side, her cheek pressing against the sleeve of my jacket. Our eyes connect and it’s like we’re transported to another time and place, one where there are no rules, no fears, no histories or responsibilities.

  “For the record,” she says, looking at me with her big, whiskey-colored eyes, “I could be upset with you.”

  I half-laugh as my hand cups her jaw, my thumb stroking the soft skin of her cheek. My mouth drops open just a touch to let actual air in. “I’m sure you could.”

  “I might be upset with you right now,” she whispers.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you didn’t kiss me yesterday.”

  I hold her gaze for a long moment, in a way to apologize, before dropping my hand away from her face. “I think that would only complicate things. Don’t you?”

  The words taste acrid as they fall out of my mouth, and the look she gives me feels even worse as it hits me in the chest. It’s not resentful, not broken—for which I’m grateful. It’s steely, a cage locking over her feelings.

  “You’re right. I do,” she says, pasting on a smile and taking a step back. “I’m glad one of us has some sense,” she winks and trots out of my office. I follow her, shutting the door with a snap.

  “It’s the right thing,” I remind myself, heading back to my desk. “This is the best thing for both of us.”

  Mallory

  “HELLO?” I ASK, WITH A little more bite than I intend.

  “Mallory?”

  “Yes?” I pull out a handful of random items from my junk drawer and put them on the counter. “This is Mallory.”

  “This is Keenan Jacobs. Camilla Landry gave me your number.”

  I lean against the counter and sigh. “Yes, Cam said she was going to. How are you?”

  “I’m good. You?”

  “Shitty day at work, but otherwise . . .”

  “I’ve had better days. This starting a new job thing sucks.”

  “Tell me about it,” I groan. “Although I think my particular situation is unique, but whatever.”

  “Want to have dinner tomorrow and commiserate? Something simple, maybe a pizza or something?”

  For a split second, I consider not going. I’m not in a date-going mood, not that I really am sure what that means cons
idering I haven’t had a real date in maybe ever. Besides, I don’t think it would be fair to him. I’m not sure how he would compare to Graham and I know I’ll compare. Fair or not, I will.

  “Can I be honest with you?” I ask.

  “I hope you will.”

  “I’m not sure what I’m looking for right now. I just got out of a relationship and I’m not even sure what I want. Does that make sense?”

  He blows out a breath. “Well, I didn’t know how to approach that topic, but same goes for me. I just got out of one hell of a relationship, and I just want to find someone to laugh with. Buy a pizza or a burger. Maybe catch a concert. So no pressure, Mallory. None at all.”

  I shut the drawer, confident I’m not going to find my missing pack of batteries. “Perfect! What time were you thinking?”

  “Maybe six? At Backstreet? Do you know where that is?”

  “Yup. I’ll just meet you there.”

  “I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow then.”

  “Same here. Good night.”

  I end the call and slide my phone across the counter top, watching it slam into a pile of napkins. They go fluttering in the air, half of them landing on the floor. I just watch with no intention of picking them up.

  Keenan’s call should’ve energized me. Dates are exciting, right? I’m not sure Eric even really dated me. Regardless, I’m pretty certain I should have some flutter of excitement. Then again, they usually don’t come on the heels of having Graham Landry tell you he can’t kiss you.

  I look Keenan up on social media. He’s cute, about my age, with short hair and big puppy-dog eyes. He apparently plays a guitar and works at a bar. I vaguely remember him.

  He does nothing for me. I’m sure he’s sweet—he has some ode to his grandma on one of his pages—but there’s no attraction whatsoever. Still, it will be good to get out of the house and to stop thinking about Graham. Who knows, maybe I’ll fall breathlessly in love with Keenan and can thereby keep my job?

  “Ugh,” I say out loud, trying to sort my feelings. They’re a big, messy heap and I can’t even begin to dig out from under it.

  My chest constricts, making it hard to breathe. If I had just not said anything, everything would be fine. I’d be looking forward to seeing him in a suit tomorrow and making plans with Joy for the weekend. Instead, I’m allowing him to command my thoughts.

  He’s going to fire me. I know it.

  Graham

  “We’ll be up and running soon,” I say over the steam of my coffee. “I have a few calls to make today, a few things to run by our attorney, then we can sit down next week with Dad and make the final decisions.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks, G, for getting this put together. I appreciate it, man,” Ford says, nodding over his mug.

  “It’s my job.” Of course it’s more to me than that, but it’s not worth the time it would take to try to explain it. I sit my cup down and take the papers he hands me and stick them in the Landry Security file. “I’ll send these to Mallory this morning and get her started on them.”

  Ford takes a long drink, watching me over the brim. “How’s that going?”

  “Fine.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  Chuckling, I lean back in my chair. “She’s doing a fine job.”

  “I haven’t been gone so long that I forgot how to decipher all your little nuances,” Ford laughs.

  “Back to the matter at hand,” I say, bringing him back around to non-Mallory topics, “When do you want to launch?”

  “As soon as possible. I’m going fucking crazy sitting around.”

  “You? Sit around?” I roll my eyes.

  “It was a figure of speech,” he says, standing. “I actually am taking Mom to breakfast today.”

  I stand, too, and watch him head to the door. “You’re making me look like the bad son. Before you came home, I just had to compete with Barrett and Linc and that’s not hard.”

  He pops open the door, looks across Mallory’s office, then steps back inside my office and closes the door. “How in the hell do you get anything done with her sitting out there?”

  Glancing at the clock, it’s three to eight. My stomach churns as I shrug. “I just try not to look.”

  “Yeah. Just don’t look,” he chuckles. “You’re telling me you don’t imagine her bent over the copy machine?”

  “Not as much as I imagine her bent over my desk.”

  His laughter makes me smile. “If your goal is to simply not look at her, you’re going to need to put on blinders today, brother. Fucking hell.”

  “You can wear them too, for that matter.” I toss him a look, one that he reads correctly. His hands shoot up in the air, one still holding his cup of coffee.

  “I’ll just say good morning. It would be rude not to. Anyway,” he grins cheekily, “what do you care?”

  I fix my gaze on him until he shakes his head and gives me a little wave. He leaves the door open so I can hear him greet Mallory as he leaves.

  Her voice dances through my office, lifting my heartbeat as the volume of her tone softens. I find myself angling to listen to every last note, a sound I’ve craved since she left the office last night.

  I’m beyond fucked. I have no plan for this. I have no clue how to navigate this minefield.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve pulled a true all-nighter, but last night, I did. All. Damn. Night. I laid in bed, sat on the sofa, worked in the den, even went for a drive just to try to distract myself from the look on her face when I told her I couldn’t kiss her.

  Something about watching her eyes lose their playfulness, feeling her physically distance herself from me, pains me in a terrible way. Seeing that look in her eye made me crave to hold her in my arms, to kiss her until I hear her whisper my name.

  As if on cue, I hear her giggle from her desk. I smile even though my gut tenses. Lucky for me, I’m already sitting at my desk when she rounds the corner because if I were still standing, seeing her would knock me on my ass.

  My pen clamors against the glass top as it tumbles from my fingers, my jaw going right along with it.

  Holy. Shit.

  A black dress that looks like it’s wrapped around her in a hundred different pieces, winds tightly around her gorgeous body. Her hair is thick, wild, but strategically so. I see why Ford told me to wear blinders.

  “Morning,” she says simply. “I was just coming to shut this. I know you like your first few hours of the day quiet.”

  “I’ve already been here a few hours.” My voice sounds robotic and I try to shake out of this spell, but it’s hard—in so, so many ways.

  If this is her way of punishing me for not kissing her yesterday, she wins. Punishment doled out and accepted. I’ll have blue balls all fucking day.

  She begins to pull the door closed when she stops suddenly. “Oh, don’t forget your nine o’clock meeting called late yesterday and moved it to nine thirty. I bumped your eleven o’clock appointment until after lunch so you’re not rushed.”

  “What about my appointment at one?” I ask, feeling like I’m grasping at straws. My entire day’s schedule is out of whack and I’m scrambling to wake up my computer to pull up my planner, all the while keeping one eye on her.

  “I took care of it. They really didn’t need to meet with you,” she replies. “I faxed them the contracts to sign and asked them to courier them back by the end of the day. It’ll be like you met with them, but will save you an hour.” With a fake smile and a little shimmy of her hips that is for my benefit, she closes the door. And I just stand there, telling reminding myself I can’t just go open it again.

  Mallory

  I MAKE A KISSY FACE at my reflection, making sure the red lipstick and heavier eye makeup I just applied look good before snapping my compact closed. The little button is lit on my phone, indicating it’s five o’clock and I’m officially off-duty. Graham usually comes out to say goodbye or see how my day went, but he doesn’t today.

  Sm
iling smugly, I put a fresh spritz of perfume on my wrists and dump my things back in my purse. Every time he did run into me today, he tried to seem unaffected. The fact of the matter is he tried too hard, because it was obvious. Good. Let’s see how he reacts to this.

  Switching out my office-approved footwear for a pair of black heels, I wheel around to face my computer. This will either work or it won’t. Either way, I need it to fall one way or the other. He’ll bite or he’ll let go—I’m giving him the opportunity and will respond based on his reaction.

  I can’t handle this back-and-forth. If I have to force his hand a bit, I will. For the both of us.

  I type out the email I’ve been constructing all day in my head.

  * * *

  To: Graham Landry, CEO

  From: Mallory Sims, Administrative Assistant

  Re: Employment

  Dear Mr. Landry,

  Due to recent events, I would like to deliver my intent to leave employment with Landry Holdings. I will stay as long as necessary to find an adequate replacement, however, I’ve come to believe our working relationship may not be sustainable.

  I appreciate the opportunity to work with you and will gladly assist any way I can in transferring the position.

  Thank you again,

  Mallory

  * * *

  I hit SEND before I can rethink it . . . or before I can add “I wasn’t wearing panties today either.” I’m not sure how he’ll take my announcement, but it’s Friday, so I should be good to go until Monday morning.

  I almost make it around my desk when his office doors fly open. He stands in the doorway, his eyes dark. “Can you come talk to me for a minute before you leave?”

  “Sure,” I say, my heart striking my ribcage with so much force I think it might stop beating. Following him in his office, he closes the door behind him.

  “Have a seat.” He motions towards the chair in front of his desk as he drops into his seat behind it.

  Pulling myself together, I cross one leg over the other as casually as I can manage and smile. He bit. Now to see how hard. “What can I do for you, Graham?”