I prop myself up against the headboard and watch her, my old college shirt and boxers looking just as good on her today as they did last night. “I agree.”
She turns around, ducking her head down with a shy smile as she sees where my gaze is focused. God, she’s so beautiful. And right now, this smile is all for me. No parts to play. No one watching us. No pictures.
Oh, that’s right. Angelina still wants those.
I hold up my phone, raising my brows at her. “For ThousandWords?”
She nods, a secret flirting along her lips as she poses for me.
I send it to Angelina, and even this early in the morning, she fires a response back right away.
In your alma mater shirt and boxers? Awfully suggestive of you. I love it.
“PR approves.”
“Do I get to see it?”
She walks over and looks at the screen, then covers her mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me I have bedhead?”
“What? No, you don’t.”
“I do,” she says, smoothing down her hair. “And no makeup either.”
“You look beautiful.”
She stops, lowering her hands in front of her. “Do you really think that?” Her fingers twist at the bottom of her shirt and I reach over and grip her hand.
“Serena, you’re gorgeous.” And it’s more than just her looks. Everything about her is.
She bites her lip, trying to hide a grin. “I think you’re gorgeous too. Handsome, I mean.” She peeks over at me shyly. “And very sexy.”
My dick twitches, prepared for another round, and I put my hand on my lap to keep it at bay. “I really do have to get ready for work.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” She bounds off the bed, heading toward the door at a clipped pace.
I scrub a hand down my jaw, waiting till she leaves to let out a long sigh.
What the hell kind of can of worms did I open?
“Late night, Archer?”
I cover my yawn, but it was impossible falling asleep with Serena right next to me. Her body soft and warm less than a foot from me. Her scent drifting over, impossible to escape. You’d think our tryst this morning would have energized me more, but without my workout, I’m dragging.
“Something like that.” I’m not explaining to our Chief of Operations what’s going on at home.
“I’ve been looking at the list of employees Montague Media sent over trying to decide which departments to combine, who’ll be made redundant, all that kind of stuff. Can you crunch some numbers and figure out who we can afford to keep?”
“Will do.”
While I’d normally pass that off to someone lower on the chain, I have a newfound interest in this buyout and Montague Media’s finances in particular. I can’t get over the fact that Greg Montague is selling off his daughter’s designer clothes. The net proceeds would have to be miniscule compared to what he’ll make from the sale of his company.
There’s more idle chitchat around the boardroom table as we wait for Dad, who’s usually last to arrive at these monthly chief meetings, but as the most important man here, I guess he can come whenever he wants.
It still seems rude to make everyone wait.
He enters a few minutes later, the mood of the room shifting as he settles at the head of the table and the meeting commences. Legal has their presentation first, and I find my mind drifting to what I might discover tonight when I return home. Will she visit my office again for a massage, or is that over now that the dynamic between us has changed? I’ve actually been looking forward to them. And what she wears along with it.
Something niggles at the edge of my conscience from this morning, something about…
Oh God, I told her I’d buy her more lingerie, didn’t I? No wonder she said I could touch her if I was coming on to her like that.
“Archer?”
I glance up, finding everyone’s eyes on me. I didn’t say that part out loud, did I?
I clear my throat, sitting up straighter in my seat. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I don’t even know who asked the question.
“Give him a break,” our Chief of Communications says kindly. “He’s still in his honeymoon phase.”
There’s a quiet ripple of good-natured laughter, and my eyes flick to Dad, who’s very decidedly not laughing, his ice-blue gaze zeroed on me. “Dave requested next quarter’s projected numbers.”
“Right.”
I answer the question and stay attentive for the remainder of the meeting, not letting my mind wander to anywhere it’s not supposed to be.
“Archer, a word,” Dad commands as everyone takes their leave at the end. I linger behind, receiving a few sympathetic glances from the others. That tone of voice is never good.
He steeples his hands. “You can’t be off your game in front of the other chiefs. You need to show leadership and initiative, not ineptitude.”
My teeth grind. “I missed one question and then answered it after Dave repeated it.”
“You’re the future leader of Bishop Industries. Don’t make them doubt your place at this table. Don’t make me doubt it.”
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or the fact that all I’ve done the last week and a half is bust my ass for this company, but instead of keeping my mouth shut like I should, I argue back. “I’ve been with Bishop Industries for ten years. I’ve worked every position within my department on my way up the ladder. Everyone here knows how hard I work. That I’m more than capable of performing my job, regardless of being your son. And besides that, I just saved the deal you wanted so bad. I deserve credit, not chastisement.”
I’d questioned my level of fulfillment the other day, but I can at least say with no qualms that I do my job admirably.
He stares at me, silent, but I hold my ground, refusing to apologize for my outburst. If he wants me to be a leader, I’ll damn well act like one.
“Why were you yawning?”
What? Why does that matter? “Serena kept me up.”
I realize my mistake as soon as the words leave my mouth,
“Do you know why I picked Gabriel for her to marry?” His icy gaze narrows on me. “Because I didn’t care what happened afterward. But I don’t need you distracted by this girl. Remember, it’s a business arrangement.”
“I’m not distracted. Just tired. I’m allowed to be tired every once in a while.”
“Then go to bed earlier,” he snaps. “And don’t let her affect your work.”
He stands and walks out of the room, leaving me silently fuming. That’s it? He couldn’t say anything about my past decade of performance within the company? The level of respect I’ve gained from the people here? A belated thank you for keeping the buyout of Montague Media in play?
Nope. Just a scolding because I’m actually spending time with the woman I married for him.
Does he have any idea how much I’ve done this past week? The extra events, the pictures? Angelina copied him on the last email she sent about my profile’s significant bump in traffic. Whether he read it or not is a different story.
I pull out my phone and open ThousandWords, discovering that, yes, I do have considerably more engagement on my photos than normal. I scroll through, Serena’s face gazing back at me, so incredibly sexy in the one from today. In all of them, really. How is it we’ve only been together for a little over a week? It seems like so much longer than that.
Talking to her last night at the benefit, hearing her open up, and then the same way she had drawn things out of me this morning… is it normal to feel this sense of closeness already? To think about someone all the time?
Not that I’m distracted. I just swore up and down to Dad I’m not.
And I meant it. I can do my usual workload and continue this thing with Serena. She doesn’t have to… affect me.
Even though I admitted to her last night that I don’t know what I’m doing with her. That I can’t keep up with all these changes. That things were beginning to feel real.
Fuck.
I rest my head in my hands, no idea how to proceed. I can’t pretend this is solely a fake relationship anymore. Not after what we did in bed this morning. But what was it to her? She said she wanted me to touch her, but not why. Was it an in the moment thing? Both of us horny and needing a release? She’d agreed with the bullshit excuse I made the other night about letting off some steam, but is the idea really such a bad one?
What am I thinking? Of course it is. This isn’t a woman I could avoid if things don’t work out. I’m married to her.
Then again, who better to do this with? There’s obvious chemistry between us. Attraction. If I can’t fool around with my wife, then who else can I do it with?
I tug at my hair, the answer not any clearer, and return to my office, stopping at Tracy’s desk outside for her to give me my messages.
“All right, here we go,” she says, picking up a stack of post-it notes. Jesus, how many messages did I get? “Your next meeting with Finance is in twenty minutes, just as a reminder.”
Yes, I know.
“And Charles wants to reschedule his one-on-one with you this afternoon because his son’s school called and he has to go pick him up.”
“Okay, fine.” I didn’t particularly care about it anyway.
“Some guy in Advertising wants to set up a meeting with you.” She squints at her paper. “A Micah Keating? Never heard of him.”
Ugh, that guy. “Tell him I don’t have availability for a few weeks.”
She blinks at me. “But you do.”
“I know, but I don’t want to meet with him.”
“Oh, gotcha. How about I set it up for June thirty-first?”
A laugh escapes me, despite myself. It’s never good to encourage Tracy too much. “Do it and see what he says.”
She flips to the next page. “Harlan Nash called to remind you about a dinner party.”
Oh, crap, I forgot about that. The idea had little appeal to begin with, but after Serena shared her story about Courtney harassing her in high school, we’re definitely not appearing on their reality show now. “Call him back and say I’m not interested.”
She nods and runs through the rest of the stack, then sets her papers down. “Oh, and one more thing. Your wife visited you.”
What? Why didn’t she lead with that?
She points to the closed doors of my office. “She’s in there.”
I nearly growl. “Next time, tell me first if Serena’s waiting for me.”
Her eyes widen, a picture of contriteness. “Sorry.”
She may act like that now, but she’ll forget in a week. “And get me the contact for Research and Development at Montague Media.” From glancing over the list of employees and departments the COO gave me, that’s the one I have the most questions for.
“Yes, Mr. Bishop.”
I enter my office, finding Serena seated on the couch against the window, doing something on her phone. She looks up as I shut the door, her smile nearly knocking me back with how genuine it is. Has anyone ever smiled at me like that before?
She stands and walks across the room to greet me, her lips soft and inviting as she presses them to mine. There’s no one around to observe us this time, no one to pretend for, and for some reason, that makes it even better. I cup the back of her head, deepening the kiss briefly before remembering myself. “What brings you by?”
“I have some bad news.”
Chapter Fifteen
Archer
My heart stops, despite my resolution less than ten minutes ago to not be distracted by her. “What is it?”
Does she regret what we did this morning? Does she want a hotel room after all? Did I fuck everything up?
“I was in my closet today salvaging what I could and I talked to the contractor the super sent out. He said it might be a couple of months before they finish.”
My heart resumes normal speed. Oh, that. “Yeah, I know.”
“Oh.” She gives a soft laugh. “I thought it would take a lot less time for some reason.”
I swallow heavily, not wanting to say this next thing, even though I should. “If that’s too long of a time frame to share a room, I can still get you that hotel.”
“No.” She grabs my hand, squeezing softly. “I liked sharing a room with you.”
Especially the sharing a bed part. What will it be like tonight?
No, no. I’m not even sure it’s a good idea to share a bed at all. What if it ends up ruining everything we’ve built so far?
“Anyway,” she continues, “I just wanted to let you know that and also double check it’s okay to buy some more things with your card. A few of my dresses and most of my shoes got ruined-”
“Of course you can. You don’t have to ask my permission.”
“Well, I feel a little guilty. It’s your money.”
“Money’s no object. Seriously.” I earn a ridiculous salary and hardly touch it. Dad pays for all my living expenses, the same as he does for Gabriel and Connor.
Oh, that’s right. Not Gabriel anymore.
“It was my apartment that did the damage to begin with. I told you I’d replace it all. And you’re my wife.” Those words sound different to me now than they did even a few days ago. “You can get whatever you want.”
Her mouth tilts up at the corners and she leans in to kiss me again, whispering, “Thank you,” against my lips. It’s not a big deal at all, but I won’t say no to this.
She doesn’t pull away and I don’t either, unable to help myself, the kiss playing out, minutes ticking by as our bodies gravitate toward one another. She presses herself flush against me, my tongue deep in her mouth, her hands running through my hair. Her nails scrape lightly against my scalp, and I involuntarily let out a low groan.
“You like that?”
“Yes.” There’s no other answer for her, not with how good it feels.
She does it again, slower, and a rush of goosebumps breaks out along the back of my neck and down my arms, my dick twitching. How is it that she can affect me this much?
The intercom on my phone buzzes and Tracy’s voice fills the room. “Mr. Bishop? Your meeting with Finance is in five minutes.”
And it’ll take me that long just to get down to the fortieth floor. I pull away from her, straightening my tie and suit jacket. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“That’s okay,” She fixes my hair, a smirk playing about her deliciously swollen lips. Hopefully, mine aren’t as obvious. “You’re a very in demand man. Mr. Bishop.”
“You don’t have to call me that.” Every time I hear it, a part of me thinks someone is referring to my dad.
“What should I call you then?”
“Your husband,” I reply without thinking, going still as I realize what I said.
The air charges between us, heat filling her gaze as she bites her lip. Apparently, she likes that name.
And it turns out I do too.
“Mr. Bishop?” Tracy calls again.
Right. The meeting.
“Oh, before I forget, I got you something.” She digs in her purse and hands me a plastic bag from a drugstore down the street.
I reach in, withdrawing a pair of black reading glasses.
“You’re always squinting at your computer,” she explains. “I thought these might help.”
I blink, taken aback by her gesture, and walk around my desk, pulling a spreadsheet out of the folder I’m bringing to the meeting with Finance. I put on the glasses and study the sheet, the tiny figures noticeably easier to read.
I look back up at her, speechless.
“Do they help?”
“Yeah, they do. Thank you, I-” I clear my throat, a strange swooping sensation going on in my chest. “That’s really thoughtful.”
She beams at me, the pressure inside me increasing the longer I stare at her. “I’ll see you tonight?”
She nods, but neither of us makes a move to kiss the other goodbye. If we do, we might not stop.
How is this happening so quickly?
I leave while I still have the willpower, and I’m only a few minutes late as I meet with the heads of the Finance department. At least in this case, I’m the man they have to wait for.
Serena’s gone when I return to my office an hour later, which is for the best. Dad’s accusation of her being a distraction wasn’t totally uncalled for. If that kind of temptation was in here all day, I’d never get any work done. It’s becoming increasingly harder at home too.
And what I have planned for this afternoon requires all my attention.
Investigating.
Morally it seems iffy to examine Serena’s father’s company for possible wrongdoing, but this is purely business. If Montague is hiding something from us, we need to know before the buyout. And it still doesn’t make sense why a supposed millionaire is strapped for cash.
There’s only so much digging I can do on him personally, but I should have more access to his company’s financials. I’ve done my due diligence already, before we even considered the deal, but a second look won’t harm anything. And something might have changed between now and then.
Plus, I have a legitimate reason to examine things closer if Operations is concerned about redundancy.
According to my paperwork, Montague Media created a Research and Development department six months ago with a suspiciously large budget. And after some further investigating of my own, I’ve discovered that every employee in it has a higher than average salary compared to industry standards. Exorbitantly higher. Added to that, the number of employees inexplicably tripled as of three months ago.
Right around the time Greg Montague downgraded his apartment. Coincidence? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m not even sure what the connection could be.
At the very least, if all these people were hired recently, they may not have even passed their probationary status. We could get rid of them without worrying about all these extra salaries.
I press the intercom button to Tracy’s desk. “Tracy? Did you get that number I asked for?”
My office door opens a second later, not that I said it was okay to enter, Tracy’s head poking through. “So, um, I couldn’t really figure out your request.”
Marrying the Billionaire (Bishop Brothers Book 2) Page 13