by May Sage
His hand felt like it was about a billion degrees. His lips were so soft in contrast with the stubble on his strong chin. She didn't think it lasted for more than a second, and yet she felt the touch long after he moved away.
Holy fuck. No touch had ever felt like that. None. Not her first kiss, not the first time she'd had sex. Just the briefest instant, and her entire body and mind were set ablaze.
It certainly didn't help that the man looked like that.
Of course, Lillie saw no problem with pointing it out. "Man, you're always brightening up the scenery, but give a girl a warning before showing up in your sexy suits. I understand why you stick to boring clothes. I may just swoon."
Desmond rolled his eyes. “Hopefully it won’t happen ever again. I hate this suit. It itches. And it's tight around the chest, too."
Lillie's hand caressed the silky fabric right over his pecs. "Oh, I can see that. And by the way, everyone even remotely interested in guys is thanking the gods for whoever messed up your measurements."
"No one I hire messes up, Lillie. It's Maverick's damn suit. He was supposed to attend tonight. We're in business with one of the artists’ wives. He double booked with a damn couples cookout, or something equally tragic, so I was volunteered. Had I known that you'd been sent to represent us, I wouldn't have bothered showing my face at all."
"I'm not representing you, O great King. I was invited by an old school friend. But don't digress. That doesn't explain how you ended up in this delightful suit. Come on, don't hold out on us. Does it involve mud bath fights with your brothers? Because I'm gonna need details."
She was so very friendly and casual with the man. Ryn wondered if they'd ever played together. Probably. Before she was married, maybe. They seemed to have some chemistry.
Desmond laughed. "Close enough. We meet up with a few friends to play football, occasionally. Maverick was good enough to inform me that he needed me to show up here after the match, half an hour ago. My suit had been creased in my locker. His place is closer than mine. I just wish he actually owned a fucking comb."
"I'm going to send Maverick a thank you note. Maybe even flowers. Wait, stand right here, I need to take a picture of you."
"No, you don't," he replied.
Lillie had already pulled her phone and was aiming it right at him. "Say cheese!"
To Ryn's surprise, Desmond shook his head, and smiled, obliging her.
"Hey, princess, don't stand like that in the background, cozy up to the man, show off those pretty dimples."
Put on the spot, Ryn froze like a deer caught in headlights. Desmond, still close, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled for the camera.
"Oh, my. Just look at this."
Lillie turned the phone around to show them the shot.
To be fair, it was a good picture. A very good picture. Although she didn't feel it at all, Ryn looked so very poised, tucked under his arm, instinctively tilted toward him, smiling up shyly. Desmond was smiling and gazing down upon her with what appeared to be affection, familiarity.
"Don't you two just look perfect together? You should totally date. I can see it."
Ryn had been under the impression Lillie could become a friend of sorts. She'd been so very open and inviting this week. Right now, she wondered how people went about hiding bodies in NYC these days.
"Lillie, you're embarrassing Ryn.”
The woman entirely ignored Desmond. "We can double date. Luke will be back from filming his latest action flick tomorrow. Let's do it this weekend. Saturday. Do you have any plans?"
Desmond held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his index finger, as if willing himself to find the patience to deal with Lillie. "Of course I have plans, Ryker. I'm Desmond King."
"Megalomaniac much?” She rolled her eyes. “And if you're talking about the McNamara gala, yeah, I was invited, too. I figured we could skip. But we can totally meet up there instead. Did you invite a plus one? Of course not. It's perfect. Ryn can—"
"Decide what she'd like to do with her weekend. I need a fucking drink."
He gestured to the bartender and ordered himself a beer, yet again surprising her. He'd seemed more like a scotch kind of guy. Something amber, expensive, on the rocks.
"Anything for you, ladies?"
"Something fruity with vodka for both of us," said Lillie. She hadn't abandoned her insane ambition, unfortunately. "And she'd most probably like to meet the McNamaras. Ryn's an artist, they're literally the most influential family in the entire country, and Nessie is always hunting for new talents she can help out.” The she-devil turned her attention on her, asking, “Can you afford to pass up that opportunity?"
Ryn kept her mouth shut, because if pressed, she had to admit that she would literally die for a chance to meet Nessie.
Vanessa McNamara was America's sweetheart. From ages eight to sixteen, during her father's two terms as president, she’d been the adorably awkward first daughter every kid liked to see because her pigtails, braces, and shyness made her so very relatable. Given her exceptional school record, and the fact that she'd been president of the chess club and debate team, everyone expected her to go into politics, like literally every single McNamara alive or dead. They were American blue bloods; their family tree could be traced all the way back to the Mayflower and they could count four presidents, many senators, judges, and ministers in their ancestry. She went to college, and excelled there, too, but instead of taking the next step in that direction, going to law school or something, she shocked absolutely everyone by walking away from the path laid out for her from the moment she'd opened her eyes. She released an indie alternative pop album. Her voice was exceptional, reaching into the soul. She started to go by her stage name Nessie—just that, as if to tell the world that she wasn't defined by her powerful family.
In short, Nessie was a goddess. Ryn would most definitely not attempt to promote her nonexistent art to the icon, but what woman would pass up a chance to meet Nessie in person?
The bartender handed Desmond his beer and he took a swig before prompting, “Well? Do you want to go?”
Not trusting her voice, and unable to bring herself to look up toward him, she bobbed her head once.
Shit, what was happening to her? She'd been just fine talking to him and sassing him just weeks ago. But then, Lillie had to go and make her realize she actually liked the guy.
“Marvelous!” Lillie exclaimed. “Now that’s settled, tell me what you thought about the exposition."
Desmond shrugged. "Nothing noteworthy."
Ryn chuckled at that, finally finding her voice. “Says the man who literally has a white canvas in his living room. I’m not sure you’re the most qualified person to have an opinion on art, Mr. King.”
A second passed.
“Oh my God. You've seen his place? You've actually seen the inside of his secret base? Are there sharks? A trap door? Does ‘Goldfinger’ start to play as soon as you pass through the doors?”
"I'm not a fucking James Bond villain, Ryker."
"Debatable. Don't change the subject, though. No one has seen your place. Ever. We girls at the club talk, you know. I think there's a challenge going on about making it inside."
Desmond shrugged. "Obviously you're not talking to the right people.”
“Evidently.” She redirected her attention to Ryn, pointing her finger. "Spill everything, lady."
Ryn’s eyes went from Desmond to Lillie and back again. The man shrugged, as if to give her a green light. "Nothing much to say, really. Everything is white, except the cat."
"There's a cat?" Lillie's eyes widened. "Oh my God, Desmond King may be human."
“Don't spread that around,” he said pleasantly. “Wouldn't want to ruin my reputation.”
Lillie’s phone vibrated in her hand, and she beamed. "Excuse me, gotta take this."
She walked away, cooing at her husband on the other end of the phone. Ryn smiled as she watched her retreating back. "She's a character
."
"She's a royal pain in the ass, but no one could replace her. My brothers and I are lucky to have her. It takes a special person to run The Tower."
Ryn guessed, "I imagine she’s got everyone wrapped around her finger, and gets them to do whatever she wants."
"Precisely. Speaking of, I'll make an excuse for you if you're feeling uncomfortable about going to the gala this weekend."
Ryn nodded, unsurprised. She'd expected him to backtrack as soon as he could. "Probably for the best. I don't have anything to wear, and it's not exactly my scene, anyway."
A few seconds passed in silence. Then Desmond added, "But if you would like to attend, I'd welcome the company."
That did make her look up. She'd given him an out while maintaining her pride; that was supposed to be it. But now, he'd actually invited her along; him, not Lillie forcing his hand.
"I could get you a dress, if that's the issue."
"I can get myself a dress," she replied, stiffening.
Shit. It might have been the two cocktails, or something else entirely, but for a little while, she'd almost forgotten that she was his charity project.
"Great. Shall I pick you up around six, then?"
Ryn shook her head. "I think I'll pass. Thank you, though." She finished her drink in one go and hailed the bartender. "Hey, can I have the bill?"
"I'll cover the bill, Ryn," Desmond immediately said.
Again, she repeated, "No." She put her card on top of the bill. "I owe Lillie a drink."
"You're also covering my beer," he noted.
"And you got me breakfast a month back. I owed you, too." She took her card and receipt back, signed for the tip, and waved toward Desmond, who obviously wasn't very happy with her right then.
"Let Lillie know I had to dash, would you?"
He nodded tightly, a certain glint to his eyes. Hell, he seemed downright pissed.
Good news was, it wasn't her problem.
"See you later, Desmond."
"See you later, Ryn."
Ryn woke up to a text from Lillie.
"Running out on the King like that was a chicken move. He's interested."
She grunted. The woman was a terrible influence, putting ideas like that in her mind.
She shot her a quick reply while dragging herself out of bed.
"He's so not."
When she got home the previous evening, she'd spent an hour painting before hitting the sack. She'd slept well again. Very well, in fact, and at least she hadn't overslept this morning.
Her phone pinged as she brushed her teeth.
"He so is. And as we're not in third grade, we'll leave it at that and change the subject. I wanted to ask yesterday: can you show me some of your art?"
She hesitated, watching the text with a frown. Before she managed to formulate a suitable excuse, Lillie sent her an image. Just two stick figures with a shaky sun in between.
"That's the extent of my artistic skills, by the way, so I won't judge. Just wanna see what you do because I like you."
Oh man, that woman was irresistible. And like, manipulative as fuck, too. Ryn laughed, shaking her head.
"Sure. I'll send something along with Callum. In an envelope. Don't show him."
"Promise!"
After breakfast, she packed up the painting that had dried off from the previous evening and headed in to work.
Callum greeted her with a huge smile on his face.
"We're buying out another construction company this morning."
"Good morning to you, too. I take it you definitely don't need more coffee today."
"A huge douche I went to school with, who made me look like a choir boy, had a meltdown on national television last night. The stock of his family firm took a nose dive. They're very big in the south, and you know how it is down there: unless your family has done the same thing for seven generations, they don't want you working for them. Maverick thinks we can purchase a majority share from various accounts, if we're smart about it."
Her head was spinning. "All right. How can I help?"
"Some people will be trying to jump ship before the stock plummets any further. We need to monitor the interest, make sure we're first on the scene. I know it's not exactly part of your job description, but everyone in finance has their hands full with the Chinese extension, and you can handle it. I'll show you the ropes. If we get 51 percent, you're getting a fat bonus."
She stilled.
"Is this about my sister?"
Callum tilted his head. "You have a sister?"
He seemed sincere enough, but she couldn't help pushing. "My sister in the hospital. Is Desmond behind this because he thinks I need money?"
Her boss was either a better actor than Luke Ryker, or it was genuinely the first he’d heard of it.
"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about, but if it helps with personal circumstances, all the better. I just need your ass on the ball for the next day or two. Can you handle it?"
She bobbed her head. "Yes. Sorry for making assumptions. It's just that..."
"My brother and you have issues, history, or something. I get it, but I'm honestly not interested in details. Especially if you bumped uglies.”
“We didn’t—” she started.
“Nope,” said Cal. “Not another word. Not interested, remember? Now, come here. Let me show you how this works."
Ryn ended up eating a sandwich at her desk, eyes glued to her screen all day. It was almost nine in the evening by the time she yelled, “Yes! I got an answer! Powell is selling 5 percent.”
“You beautiful, beautiful creature!” Cal shouted from his office, before running to her desk and checking her email.
Maverick and his PA, Sebastian, had called with regular updates, to say that they’d picked up a few shares here and there. So had Desmond’s assistant, Hester. With that 5 percent, they’d have 53 percent of the company.
“Accept the offer, whatever he demands. We got it.”
She finally sat back, stretching her stiff spine.
“Man, who knew I’d help the Kings organize a hostile takeover?”
“Fun, isn’t it?”
It had been. She grinned. “Would I be a terrible person if I said yes?”
“Not terrible, exactly. But that does make you very well-suited for this job. Now, come, sit.”
Ryn followed him to a corner of his office, where he kept three armchairs and a mini-bar. She took a seat, still smiling, exhilarated from the work they’d done in less than a day.
“Wine? Gin? What’s your poison?”
“I’m not fussy.”
“Gin and tonic it is.”
He prepared two drinks and handed her one of them, before sitting on another armchair.
“It occurred to me that I may have been insensitive, earlier. When I said I wasn’t interested in anything to do with you and my brother.”
Ryn stiffened and bit her lip.
“Truth is, I am very interested. Curious as fuck, and quite concerned. But I like you, Katharina. You do good work here, and I don’t want to lose you. The flip side is, if there is something going on with my brother, and it ends poorly? I’ll take his side. I might punch his face, but when push comes to shove, I’ll have his back, you understand?”
She shook her head. “You’re misunderstanding things. Seriously. I’m just…” she looked away. “After what’s happened between me and Wallace, your brother took pity on me. That’s all. There’s nothing else.”
Callum’s dark eyes didn’t leave her, she felt his gaze although she wouldn’t meet it.
“Pity,” he repeated.
She nodded. “He’s given me an apartment because I lived in the slums. He got me this job because he knew I needed the money. He’s just—”
“I will say this only once, Katharina. My brother and I have very little empathy toward the rest of the world. Maverick escaped it, but we’re absolute assholes. We do not pity. Not our style.”
She gasped. “I do
n’t think…”
“If you want to get out of this, you should. Now, before it’s too late.”
She frowned. “Sorry?”
“Resign. You don’t like that he recommended you for this job? You don’t like that it comes with an apartment? You don’t want to be controlled that way? Resign now. I’ll see that you’re transferred to a suitable position. Tech in San Francisco, if you want, or maybe Hong Kong? We’ll need someone with your skills out there. I can get you out of New York, and you won’t ever have to wonder if it’s because of Wallace Clarke. It’ll only be because I care about your well-being, and because I want to protect my brother.”
She hadn’t expected this. Not at all. Her hands were getting so sweaty her glass almost slipped out of her grasp.
“I—”
“The whole team working today is getting a fat bonus that’ll help you settle anywhere you want to. Just say the word, and you’re out of here.”
On that note, Callum got up, finished his drink in one gulp, and returned behind his desk.
Ryn had so many questions, and she was confused as fuck. Didn’t he like her work? She’d been under the impression he thought that she was valuable as his assistant.
Too late, she realized that there was a tear falling down her cheek. Shit. This again. That feeling of worthlessness.
She wiped it off and got up.
“Yes. Yes, I’d very much like to get out of here.”
Callum lifted his head, smirking like he’d seen it coming. He seemed…amused and excited. She didn’t understand any of it.
“Good. Come here. Let’s talk about your severance package.”
Half an hour later, they were done talking details, and Ryn was feeling numb as fuck, and still completely confused.
She found herself saying, “Lillie.”
Callum lifted a brow.
“Lillie asked me to show her something I painted; would you mind passing it along?”
Cal smiled. “I’m not kicking you out the door right now, Katharina; you have four weeks of notice. Besides, I’m certain Lillie will keep in touch, wherever you end up. She doesn’t let go of the people whose company she enjoys.”
Ryn nodded, somewhat reassured. “I know, but we’re both busy, so I don’t know when I’ll see her again. I mentioned I’d pass it along, if you wouldn’t mind?”