Hazelnut.
He’d poured a splash in his coffee yesterday, surprised at how good it was. Sounded like a sissy thing to him, but a few nutty, sweet sips later, he was hooked. He’d added some to his grocery delivery service so she’d have plenty on hand since he’d been pilfering hers.
He doubted one delivered cup of coffee could make up for his being the belligerent, insulting, handicapped billionaire who was content to wall himself in his private warehouse.
What he couldn’t get over was that it bothered him. He’d found himself wanting to be seen by her as…well, as old Eli. The Eli who had swaggered on both legs. The Eli who used to be quick to smile. His dad used to joke that he was a sensitive Marine “like your old man.” But Eli’s sensitivity had been buried in favor of hardening. Crystal had accused him of growing hard, distant. She had never understood that war required a hardness unlike anything else. He’d done what he needed to be a good soldier.
Now that he wasn’t a soldier, he wasn’t sure what it took to be a good man.
He pictured the guys in his unit and squeezed his eyes closed. The pain that had lanced his foot and seared up his calf when the grenade blew part of him to kingdom come was nothing compared to the pain he felt when his friends took their final breaths that day on the scorching hot earth.
And here he sat feeling sorry for himself like a pussy. Another reason he didn’t indulge the rooftop view. Moments like this one unveiled a broken part of him and he feared he’d hurl himself over the edge.
“Whatever.” He stood from the chair to finish washing and rinsing, balancing by holding on to the bar attached to the shower wall. Soapsuds swirled around his foot. A strong foot leading to a strong leg. Even his injured leg was strong. Thick, corded muscles leading up to thighs he’d worked through multiple pains to get that way.
He didn’t need Isabella Sawyer to approve of him. He didn’t need anyone’s approval, and never had.
He turned off the water and climbed out, gripping bars on the wall to aid him as he sat on the toilet seat and dried off.
“No more of this shit, Eli,” he muttered to himself as he rolled on the sock and attached his carbon-fiber leg. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.”
He stood and wiped the mirror with the towel, looking long and hard at his face. Lines marred his forehead from frowning. He was sick of himself, sick of feeling trapped in his own broken body and filled with unjustified anger. He needed a change.
He ran a hand through his beard, which had grown thick and was now borderline unkempt. He scrubbed the towel over it to get the water out and pulled the trimmers from the closet.
About time he started looking like the man he used to know instead of the one he’d devolved into.
* * *
Eli was quieter than usual the rest of the morning and afternoon. Isa ordered lunch—Mexican—and opted to deliver it to him and let him eat in private. Plastic to-go container in hand, she stepped into the shadowed room, the only light sifting in through the windows courtesy of an overcast day. Eli didn’t have his desk light on, only the computer screen. He was hunched, squinting, his posture abysmal.
She told him as much followed by, “If you can unkink yourself, I have your lunch.”
He blinked over at her, frowning as per his usual, only now she could see more of his face and neck than she’d ever seen before. She’d heard the razor whirring away and she’d imagined a big reveal when he finally stepped out. He’d ducked into his room, then the office without stopping to show her. She’d resisted curiosity until now, when she had a justifiable excuse to come in here and face him. Because, seriously, could she have acted more like a hormone-fueled teenager staring at him the way she had earlier?
Eli sat up straight and pulled his shoulders back. His T-shirt molded over a chest and torso she could easily envision bare.
Purr.
“When is the last time you stood and stretched?” She handed over the container, a plastic fork, and a stack of napkins. She was determined to focus on her job, on anything other than the attraction vibrating in the air between them.
Did he feel it too?
His eyes went to his lunch, back to her, and then he asked in a low, rumbling voice she felt in her tummy, “When was the last time you stood and stretched?”
“I stretch once an hour.” Sort of. When she remembered. “I move around a lot, as you noticed the other day when you lodged a complaint about my heels.”
His deep blue eyes ran down her legs like a caress, lingering at the red heels she’d worn today. Red heels and a slouchy pair of army-green pants paired with a white button-down shirt. Casual and cool was what she’d been going for. Even dressed slightly down and less professionally than usual, with the way he looked at her she felt like she wore a tiny scrap of a dress instead.
“You trimmed your beard,” she said to get his eyes off her body.
His hand went to his face, blunt, wide fingers stroking his remaining facial hair. The back of his neck had a good trim as well, but he’d left his hair longish—the front falling rakishly over his forehead. The full beard and ruffled hair suited him, but this slightly cleaned-up version suited him as well. It was a weird thought to have since she didn’t know him.
Okay. This one-sided conversation was fun.
She was turning to leave when he said her name—his name for her.
“Sable.”
Anticipation bloomed in her chest at the rough sound of his voice. “Yes?”
She threaded her fingers together in front of her, waiting anxiously for what, she didn’t know. Just having his attention was its own reward.
Eli’s brows bent, sadness eking into his expression. His lips parted but no words fell out. His eyes flicked away, then to hers—holding her gaze with fierce intention.
“Did you order lunch for yourself?” he finally asked.
“No,” she answered, a bit stunned by the question. “I was going to go out.”
“Fine,” he growled. His features morphed, anger chasing away the sadness. He pried the lid off his food and fisted the fork, digging in for a bite while she stood idly by. Had he wanted her to join him? She was about to offer when he lifted his face, swallowed the bite he took, and said, “Take off the rest of the day while you’re at it.”
There was that mile-wide mean streak she knew too well.
“Fine.” She left his office, making sure her heels clopped as loudly and as much as possible while she gathered her things and left.
* * *
“That’s not the worst of it!” Isa said as she palmed her margarita. She’d planned to meet Chloe for a much-needed girls’ lunch at the same Mexican restaurant where she’d ordered Eli’s takeout today. “I’ve been fired at least five times.”
Chloe lifted her glass of sangria. “I think you secretly love that he’s a challenge.”
“At first, yes.” Isa held up a finger. “Now it’s less about the challenge and more of a concern. Will I be able to replace myself with another assistant? Who would put up with him?”
Isa had a company to run and Chloe filling in during the daytime hours and Isa working all weekend and most evenings until midnight wasn’t a good long-term plan.
“I don’t know, Isa.” Chloe grew serious, her nose crinkling. “If he’s not going to cooperate, maybe you should give up on the Cranes altogether. They may have wealthy contacts in Chicago, but they’re not the only rich people who live here.”
True. Her own parents were rich people, but they preferred to keep what Isa did quiet rather than share that their daughter was an indentured servant. Which was exactly why she’d opted to go to a most uncomfortable banquet. If she could introduce herself around, make a few high-end acquaintances, she might be able to let the Cranes go.
“You’re right,” Isa confirmed, her voice strong. “I can overcome adversity. I can’t let myself believe that Elijah Crane could single-handedly tank my reputation.”
“’Scuse me.” A velvet male drawl sounded o
ver Isa’s ear. If Chloe’s gobsmacked expression was anything to go by, the guy speaking wasn’t unattractive.
Isa turned and was pegged with two very green eyes, shaggy, sandy-blond hair, and a full-lipped smile.
“Did I hear you mention Eli Crane?” he asked.
Oh no, oh crap. She was griping about a client in public, which was a huge no-no. And had been overheard by…Chicago’s own Chris Hemsworth, evidently.
She blinked at the muscular blond. Who was this gorgeous creature? Wait…she’d seen him before. Her eyes narrowed at the same time his did.
“You. You’re his PA.” The dashing guy with the decidedly Southern accent shook his finger, his smile staying in place. “You let me in when I swung by to visit Eli. I thought you looked familiar.”
Chloe shifted her attention from the man to Isa and back again like she was watching a slow-mo Ping-Pong match.
“Yes, right. It’s nice to officially meet you.” She called up her hard-won professionalism, put down her margarita, and extended a hand. “Isabella Sawyer.”
“Zach Ferguson.” He shook her hand. “Commercial builder.”
She could tell. He had rough palms, a firm grip. He was sexy as hell to boot. And working with Eli, part of her wailed. She could only hope he hadn’t heard her disparaging her wealthiest client.
“You know, it’s funny, I wouldn’t think of Chicago as being a small town,” he said with a casual smile. “Yet here we are.”
“Here we are,” Chloe interjected.
“Do you know the Cranes well?” Isa asked, being conversational. Which was decidedly smarter than ogling the golden god in faded jeans and a plaid shirt.
“I have done some work for them in the past, yeah.” A close-lipped smile popped one of his dimples and Isa swore she heard Chloe moan into her sangria. Isa sent her a warning look and Chloe snapped out of it midswoon.
“Thanks for saying hello,” she said, then fished for intel. “I assume if you’ll be working with Eli I’ll see more of you?”
“I’d like that.” His top teeth closed over his bottom lip, and this time it was Isa who had to work hard not to whimper. “Too bad you’re taken, doll. Not to be overly forward but I’d have asked you out today if not.”
“Taken?” Chloe squawked.
Zach sent her a confused look. “Uh, dating? Betrothed? Wed? Not sure what y’all say up here.”
Wow. The “aw shucks” thing really worked for him.
“Eli broke the news to me. But, hey”—he held up his hands in a disarming, adorable way—“I know how to work with a lady I find distractingly attractive.”
Isa felt her cheeks warm. She’d just bet. This guy emitted charm like a poisonous gas. She opened her mouth to say that either Eli was mistaken or Eli was a horse’s ass, but no words came out.
“Eli has my contact info,” he said. “He and I are just getting started on the project, so I’m sure he’ll loop you in soon enough.”
Project? Isa knew everything about Crane Hotels as it involved Eli. She didn’t remember a project. At once, the fascination with coincidence and Zach faded into anger, and Elijah Crane was front and center.
“Yes, I’m sure he will,” she said, her words clipped.
“Nice to meet you, Isabella Sawyer.” With a wink for Isa and a wave goodbye for Chloe, Zach swaggered back to the bar in—yep—cowboy boots.
“Urban cowboy,” Chloe whispered as her eyes snapped back to Isa’s. “Good Lord, the testosterone…I’m not used to that much packed into one person.”
Isa took a hearty drink of her margarita. She sure as hell was.
Zach may be everything Eli wasn’t: charming, smiley, and suave, but the one thing he couldn’t do was out-testosterone Eli Crane. Regardless of how attractive and tantalizing Zach seemed, Isa’s thoughts returned to Eli and her outrage hit apocalyptic levels.
“What did Eli mean by you being taken?” Chloe asked belatedly. It was understandable, as her pistons were likely misfiring after Zach’s brief visit.
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” Isa stood and shouldered her purse, eating another chip with salsa for the road. “Use the company credit card for lunch.”
“Wait! Don’t leave me here! What if he comes back?” Chloe stole a glance over at Zach, who had already sidled up to a blond woman at the bar. Chloe’s mouth twisted. “Never mind.”
Isa would have finished her margarita and dished about how men suck for a while longer, but at current, she had a bone to pick with Eli. Who gave him the right to tell anyone she was “taken”?
She bid Chloe adieu and clipped out of the restaurant to the parking garage. After she shut the door on her white Lexus, she made a beeline for Eli’s house, though she could have walked and made good time. The fumes from her anger would have propelled her every bit as fast as her V-6.
She parked, rode up the elevator, and popped open the door with a clang.
Eli strode out of the kitchen, red apple and knife in hand. “Thought I told you to take the day off.”
She threw her purse on the dining room table and swept over to him in a huff so quickly, a breeze lifted her hair. He cut a thin piece of apple with the oversized knife and laid the slice on his tongue, the slow sensuality of the action causing her steps to falter.
Why…was that sexy?
Focus, Isa.
She forced her attention back to the run-in with Eli’s…whatever Zach was to him…and propped her hands on her hips. “Zach Ferguson.”
Eli paused, the knife piercing the skin of the apple.
“I ran into him at Elsa’s just now. Or, rather, he ran into me. He let me know he would have asked me out if I wasn’t—and I quote—‘taken.’”
“He shouldn’t be asking you out.” Eli’s voice was calm but his expression turned to granite.
“That’s not my problem.” She offered an impatient smirk. “My problem is that someone told him I was taken.”
Eli sucked his tongue against his teeth with a tst, a sure sign he was irritated. Well, too bad. She was irritated.
“You’re not to date Crane employees while you’re working for me,” Eli growled.
“I’m not aware of any Crane business Mr. Ferguson is doing.” She crossed her arms over her breasts in challenge.
“The answer is no, Sable.”
“You don’t have any right to tell me who I can and can’t date.”
“You’re not dating Zach.”
“I might!”
“You won’t!” He took a step closer, his top lip curled. “Not while you work for me.”
She had no interest in going out with Zach. He was good-looking, but he had trouble written all over him. But she was equally pissed that Eli thought he could control her personal life in the same way he held her business’s reputation hostage.
“I can wait you out,” she said. “Given our track record, it shouldn’t be too much longer before you fire me again.” She snatched the apple from his hand and took a bite.
He took another imposing step closer and Isa, mouth still chewing, set the fruit on the table behind her and stood her ground. Eli might like others to believe he was a bear, but she knew better. She held those deep blue eyes, seeing in their depths a flash of something she didn’t like: hurt.
She recognized it instantly, having seen it enough in her own reflection after she left her parents’ company and her former life. She’d defied them, and as justified as she was by doing it, sometimes felt badly for going against their wishes. As fast as her temper spiked, it fizzled.
“Why?” she asked, taking a step closer to him.
“Why what?”
“Why did you tell Zach I’m taken?”
He was as silent as an Easter Island statue. Looked like one, too, come to think of it.
“Eli.”
He skimmed his fingers over the open placket of her shirt, the warmth from his skin radiating through the material. He flipped his hand over, keeping his eyes trained on hers and running the backs
of his fingers over her breast.
She didn’t dare breathe.
He lifted the knife and in one quick motion, sliced, and a startled exhale left her lungs.
“String.” He held up a white thread, then let it flutter to the floor. His eyes danced over her face before lingering on her lips, then to the pearl button he was brushing with his thumb.
Isa tried to regulate her breathing, but it was hard to inhale when the air between them hung thick with longing.
Another swirl of his thumb over the button and Eli’s eyes flicked to hers again. “Am I scaring you?”
He made her feel lots of things, but scared wasn’t one of them. Isa was often in control. Of everyone. Of everything. Rarely was there a part of her world she didn’t own one hundred percent. Until Eli. He’d challenged her every step of the way. And like he knew she could handle him, she knew he could handle her.
“Are you trying to scare me?” she asked.
Uncertainty flooded his eyes. Until now, she was certain she was someone Eli tolerated. Now she felt like someone Eli wanted. As much as she wanted him.
He continued rolling the button between his forefinger and thumb, the corners of his mouth turned down in thought. The pendulum hung in the balance between them and Isa was determined to let it swing.
“Do it.” She whispered the challenge, her eyes on his. “I won’t run.”
The frown left, his eyes narrowing as he raised the knife. Isa lifted her chin, giving him space. With the flick of a wrist, the blade of the knife moved and another thread snapped. The pearl button hit the concrete floor of the warehouse with a plink and the gasp of air Isa sucked in now was laced with desire.
She offered an encouraging half-smile.
Eli sliced another thread. Then another. And another. Until her buttons were scattered on the floor and her shirt sagged open. Her breasts lifted and fell as she drew in ragged breaths, as shocked as she was confused. As turned on as she was intrigued.
“Eli,” was the only word that made it from her parted lips as one repetitive thought banged against the front of her skull, an incantation she couldn’t deny.
The Bastard Billionaire Page 6