Redemption (The Vault Book 1)

by Kate Benson

  “True,” she allows, holding her grin. “Alright, honey. Call me later.”

  “I will,” I smile. “Thanks for lunch.”

  I make my way back to the building, admittedly surprised when I find my chair being occupied by a large box and a delivery man standing nearby, waiting impatiently.

  “Excuse me?” I start, setting my bag down on the edge of my desk as he turns to face me. “Can I do something for you?”

  “Miss Baxter?” he asks, his expression remaining even.

  “Yes?” I answer, unable to keep suspicion from my voice. “Who are you?”

  “I need you to sign for this package, please,” he says, ignoring my question and instead thrusting forward his electronic pad and stylus.

  “What is it?” I gesture toward the box on my desk, eyeing him curiously as my hand hovers over the screen.

  “I don’t know, ma’am. I’m just the delivery guy. They give me an electronic box and a list of signatures I need for the day,” he sighs, surely exhausted from dealing with people like me asking the same stupid question all day. “I won’t get my x-ray vision training until I’ve been on the job a little while longer.”

  I feel my eyes narrow at his dry comment, silently commending him for his quick wit as I glance down at his badge.

  “Don’t get your man shorts in a bunch, Lewis,” I tap the hard plastic adorning his uniform. “It was just a question.”

  “And what an excellent question it was,” he smirks, not bothering to hide the bite of sarcasm still playing on his lips. “Listen lady, are you gonna sign for me or what?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sorry. I just… I’m behind. I have a full route and this express order of yours kind of made me miss my lunch,” he admits, his annoyed expression shifting into one of apology as I hear the door behind me creak open. Adam Avery steps out to have a word with his makeshift assistant, his eyes falling on me almost immediately. He’s all business, but I can feel his eyes on me, something in the way his gaze stays locked on me making my cheeks heat. “It’s not your fault,” Lewis continues, pulling my attention back to his. “My boss is just on my ass today.”

  “Well, you’re absolutely right. It’s not my fault, but lucky for you, I have recent experience in having my lunch breaks hijacked due to a pushy employer,” I offer, reaching into my bag for the cookies I’d gotten from the café. “Here you go and godspeed, Lewis,” I take one for myself and hand him the rest of the bag before I sign an expletive onto the device and I flash Adam a saccharin sweet smile. “Pain in the ass bosses are the worst.”

  Adam

  Once she’s finished with the little show that has done little more than frustrate me on every level imaginable, I’m heading back to my office when she moves toward the box I’d had delivered, piquing my curiosity. I intend to watch silently from my door, but as she reaches for a box cutter, I clear the distance between us.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I warn quietly, pulling her eyes to mine. “The contents are extremely delicate.”

  “I assumed it was something office related,” she admits, gesturing toward the box. “You sent this to me?”

  “I did,” I nod. “You said you didn’t have anything appropriate and I’m not completely unreasonable,” I struggle to keep my voice even, something I can’t remember the last time I’d done. “Call it an olive branch of sorts.”

  “Oh,” she says, her expression falling as she pushes it to the side and forgets it instantly.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Avery,” we’re interrupted, another employee pulling my eyes away from her for a moment and handing me the paperwork we’d just been discussing.

  “Thank you,” I offer, taking it from her and scanning its contents, flipping through the pages.

  “Was there something else you needed from me?”

  “Are you not curious?” I ask, my eyes still scouring the document. “For all you know, I’ve just sent you the ass end of a horse suit.”

  “No, I’m not…” she whips her head around to face me. “Wait. Did you just make a joke?”

  “Perhaps,” I smirk, signing the document I’m still studying in the appropriate places and giving a subtle shrug. “I guess you won’t know until you open the box.”

  “Perhaps,” she quips, making me bite my tongue. “But it doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere. Besides, something tells me if there’s a horse’s ass at dinner tonight, it’s not going to be me.”

  Her comment brings my eyes to hers, finding the false sweetness that has become her signature within the span of a few hours stretching over her lips.

  “You’re growing quite bold, Miss Baxter,” I manage, the tick of my jaw impossible to ignore as I take a step toward the edge of her desk, wiping the amusement from her expression. I don’t miss the way her breathing begins to grow shallow as she peers up at me from beneath her thick, black eyelashes. “You’ll do well to remember who you’re speaking to. Understood?”

  She says nothing, her nostrils flaring slightly in defiance, making my brow raise.

  “I asked you a question and I don’t care for repeating myself,” I warn low, my own breath heavier as I see her chest begin to expand with her own gasp at my closeness. “Now, answer me. Am I understood?”

  She releases a low breath, clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders as she keeps her furious gaze locked on mine.

  “Yes,” she grounds out. “I understand just fine.”

  “Perfect,” I say, offering a wide smile that only further infuriates her. “See you at seven.”

  Chapter Four

  Isabella

  As much as I hate to admit it with how angry he’s made me at every turn, whatever Adam sent me has me biting my nails in anticipation for the rest of the day. I can’t be sure if it was actually the contents of the box or the way he’d invaded my space, making me lightheaded with his shift in demeanor, but whatever it is, I can’t get him out of my mind.

  I’m not typically one for surprises, especially those coming from such a pompous ass, but for some reason this box has me on the edge of my seat. I’ve almost cracked at least three times. However, the promise of knowing I’m pissing him off by not giving him what he wants at the drop of a hat has more appeal than anything that would fit inside this box ever could.

  That doesn’t mean it isn’t driving me crazy.

  Despite my curiosity, I manage to make it to my car before I give the parking lot a quick scan and lift the edge of the lid, taking a peek inside the box. After a frustrating three layers of frivolous wrapping, my fingertips taste the delicate brush of silk resting inside. A peek no longer sufficing, I toss the lid completely to the side altogether and finally take in the dress he’d chosen, searching for a flaw and sinking into my worn leather seat when there aren’t any.

  “Shit,” I hiss, shaking my head before I throw my car into gear and head back to my apartment in silent fury.

  It’s perfect.

  The soft silk, the deep shade, the classic a-line cut… it’s all impeccable and the thought of wearing something so beautiful has me silently giddy the whole way home.

  That’s what really pisses me off.

  This whole situation is a real shame.

  If his uncle is any indication, Adam comes from a great family and he seems like a decent guy when he’s not on his bullshit, macho power trip. He dresses well, has more money than Jesus and I’d be crazy to not notice how gorgeous he is. His roman features, his strong, athletic physique, the sexy Southern drawl that slips out low and husky as he speaks my name… As much as I hate to admit it, the combined effects of Mr. CEO have me in knots, but the fact remains.

  The guy is a prick with a capital P.

  By the time I make it back to my place, I’ve barely got time to pour myself a glass of wine before I have to start getting ready. I curse and rant and throw a fit the whole time, but once I slip on the dress, I cease my tantrum and admit defeat.

  Even in my childish fury, I have
to admit the asshole has great taste.

  The shade he’s chosen makes my eyes pop like ice, the dip in the neckline suggests just enough and the silk hugs my curves like a bedsheet.

  If I didn’t know better, even I would swear he’d seen me naked by the way this dress drapes so perfectly over my ass.

  “At least he has one redeeming quality,” I sigh in frustration as I drain my glass, setting it down on the kitchen counter before I pull up my email on my phone.

  I should have read this hours ago, but in my quest to refuse subordination, I’d put it off until last minute, opting instead to give it a quick scan as the polish on my toes finishes drying.

  Deciding after skimming the first four paragraphs that it’s not only boring as hell, but likely includes little information that will be expected of me to know, I shut the email and toss my phone to the side.

  I’ve already sent the obligatory best friend selfie to Christie and am putting on the finishing touches on my hair and makeup when I hear a knock on the door, pulling an eye roll from me as I move toward the front of my apartment.

  “I’ve still got nineteen minutes!” I call out, shaking my head as I reach for my purse and toss a few must-haves inside, cringing when the second round of knocking pulls at me. “Oh, for the love of Pete,” I grate out, fully irritated now as I clear the distance between me and the door. “Pushy ass drivers. You drive big bad boss man to a couple meetings and all of a sudden, you think you can just tell a person how to live their life. Well, let me tell you something, asshole,” I rant, swinging the door open. “You are literally not the boss of-”

  Shit.

  “You were saying?”

  “I um… I thought you were your driver,” I admit, hating the way my chest seizes in humiliation as Adam’s hazel eyes find mine. “I didn’t expect you to pick me up yourself, much less come to the door.”

  “So I heard,” he says, his even expression doing nothing to dull my embarrassment. He gives me a once-over, showing nothing in his features as his eyes pause on my half-curled strands. When he begins to speak once more, his voice is soft enough to make my cheeks heat slightly. “Are you almost ready?”

  “No,” I say as I shake my head. “You said seven, so I wasn’t expecting you for a few more minutes.”

  “You’re right. I did say seven,” he admits, the corner of his lips quirking up just so. “I also said when I tell you seven, I expect you to be ready at six forty-five,” he glances down at his watch before returning his eyes to my narrowing gaze. “Which it currently is.”

  “If you wanted me to be ready at six forty-five, why did you say seven?”

  “Miss Baxter,” he begins, forcing a smile as he tenses his jaw. “Do you make a habit of forcing all of your guests to argue with you in the hallway in front of the neighbors before following through with engagements?”

  “Most of my neighbors are ninety and half-deaf. I’m sure they haven’t even noticed,” I promise, extending my arm as I take a step back, the fake smile plastered on as he steps inside. As I push the door closed behind him, I drop my voice so low he can’t hear me. “Besides, you weren’t invited, so technically you’re more like an intruder.”

  Adam

  While I wait, I force my eyes away from my watch and the nerves that it puts into my chest, instead focusing on the apartment she calls home, taking in the details.

  It’s small and the feminine décor has a bit of a bohemian edge to it I didn’t expect. You shouldn’t be expecting anything. She’s your employee, I think to myself as I shake my head clear, focusing my attention back to the meeting we’re about to be late for.

  I’m about to call out to her when she returns, looking even more well-polished than she had before. I get a proper look at her and fully appreciate the way the silk falls over her skin, hugging her curves in all the places I’d imagined. Her hair falls over her shoulders in soft waves, her blue eyes popping and making my breath catch.

  “Now I’m ready,” she says quietly, reaching for the small clutch she’d previously abandoned and grabbing her house keys before moving toward the door.

  I follow her, waiting as patiently as I can manage as she moves to lock her door, the sound of whispered profanity pulling my eyes to her.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing really. It’s just my door,” she sighs, still twisting her wrist as she pulls on the handle in an effort to find a winning combination. “I asked my landlord for a new one a month ago, but he’s been taking his sweet ass time,” she shakes her head, trying again. “It’s been getting jammed. I either can’t get the latch to turn over or the key gets stuck. It’s incredibly annoying,” she admits, pulling the key out altogether and trying to start over, resting her forehead on the frame when it refuses to budge. “I’m trying.”

  “May I?” I ask, taking a step closer.

  “Be my guest,” she nods. She begins to move away, but I stop her by reaching around her shoulders and effectively caging her in, not missing the way her breathing catches. My fingers move to pluck the keys from her grip as I gently place my hand over hers.

  “Stay where you are,” I order soft. “It might take both of us.”

  “Okay,” she replies, her tone just as low.

  “Pull hard on the handle,” I instruct, feeling her dark hair brush against my chin as she nods in agreement. “Forgive me if my next words are intrusive or come off as anything other than genuine curiosity, but I’ve never known my uncle to be anything but generous with his employees,” I start as I continue to finagle the lock, struggling to feel it catch. “I’m sure you’re paid well enough to not be forced to live in a place with ill-working locks.”

  “Any place I could afford in the city would be half the size and I like my space,” she shrugs, slowly relaxing. “Besides, it’s charming here. I have neighbors who sing to their house plants, ya know? There’s something to be said for people like that.”

  “Fair enough,” I smile soft, appreciating her sentimentality even though it doesn’t necessarily trigger much for someone like me. The truth of the matter is, I’ve always envied people with a tie to things like that. I don’t, however, so it isn’t something I often understand. “Use your weight,” I insist, shaking my head clear from the thought and maneuvering the key into the lock. As the smell of her perfume hits me, I clear my throat in an effort to stifle a groan. She hears enough to have her eyes flitting up to mine. “Pull it tight,” I say low, watching her follow my instruction, but nothing happens with the door. “Harder. Like this.”

  I grip my hand more firmly over hers and twist it just enough to feel the bolt catch, twisting my hips and inadvertently brushing against her ass. The friction pulls a gasp from her at the same time I bite my lip and the lock slides into place.

  Jesus Christ.

  “All set,” I say, my voice low as I release my grip and watch her swallow hard as I step away. “We should be going. I’d like to arrive before the others.”

  “How did you…?”

  “I’m good with locks. Let’s just leave it at that,” I say simply, cutting her off and not delving into the subject regardless of the smirk her curious expression puts on my lips. “Follow me.”

  Chapter Five

  Isabella

  We make our way toward his car quickly and I’m unable to deny my surprise that he’d driven himself until I see what he’s driving.

  “Is that a Maserati?”

  “Yes. A GranTurismo Sport,” he nods, pulling my door open and meeting my eyes as if his words mean nothing. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you recognized it. Have you driven many?”

  “Have I driven many?” I ask in amusement. “Definitely not. I’ve never even seen one in person before now,” I admit as I slip inside and take a look around, finding him studying me as he slips behind the wheel. “It’s beautiful. I’m definitely a fan.”

  “Thank you,” he says politely, making quick work of checking the rearview before pulling away from the curb and slipping int
o the light traffic that will take us to The Omni.

  A comfortable silence surrounds us in the car and although I’m slightly surprised at the ease of it, I don’t question it much. Instead, I opt to enjoy the sunset and the way his cologne permeates the leather interior, invading my senses. The sound of my phone chiming distracts me and I can’t help but giggle when I read the text from Christie.

  Damn, girl! Screw professionalism… That’s a six-figure ass right there. If you don’t get a promotion, you should sue the gorgeous bastard xo

  “Something I said?” he asks, his voice making me jolt slightly as he breaks the silence.

  “No,” I shake my head as I set my phone to vibrate and slide it into my clutch. “Just… it’s just my friend. The person I had plans with tonight,” I ramble my explanation. “She was just answering me.”

  “Ahh… that’s right. You did say you had a prior commitment this evening,” he begins, changing lanes and slipping into traffic effortlessly before glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “I know I didn’t give you much of a choice in the matter,” he smirks, the playfulness in his expression both surprising me and causing my cheeks to heat. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t really in a position to allow much argument, but nevertheless, I appreciate your compliance,” he says politely, albeit stiff. Glancing over once more, his eyes traveling lower this time to the dip in my cleavage. “And you look lovely. Quite perfect for tonight’s purposes, I’m sure. I hope it wasn’t much of an inconvenience.”

  “Thank you,” I offer, honestly stunned by his abrupt change in personality and tone.

  It must be the car, I think to myself. This car would put anyone in a good mood. I’ve been in it for five minutes and already, I feel love drunk.

  The shift in his demeanor surprises me after how serious he was only a few minutes earlier. I get lost in the sound of the low music in the background, the gentle waves crashing against the shore off in the distance as the car hums beneath me. His low and masculine voice fills the car occasionally, his thoughts almost completely mirroring mine as he takes in the sunset that’s been captivating me since we began our drive. As we move along the curve of the road, the brightness of the sun hits the car and I can’t help but squint slightly. He notices.