Evan

by Allie K. Adams

  He hated what he did for a living now. Hell, it wasn’t a living. Some would call him a hero, swooping in and saving a floundering business from bankruptcy. This wouldn’t save the store. This would appease his uncle and give him something to do instead of constantly questioning everything Clint did. Duke Enterprises was about to destroy a family’s legacy with a large check with lots and lots of zeros. That did not make Clint a hero.

  It made him a ruthless asshole.

  His mind drifted to Evan. The man obviously took pride in what he did for a living. Something told him Evan would never sell his soul for a quick buck. Clint, however, had lost his soul years ago when he’d agreed to work alongside his father. He hated who he’d become and wished he had some way to turn back the hands of time and give back the lives Duke Enterprises had stolen when it bought up businesses like they were a commodity.

  Who was he kidding? Businesses were commodities.

  Clint narrowed his gaze and studied Kelley’s current owner. Peter Kelley III had inherited the CEO position from his father, who had inherited it from his father. Peter Kelley IV sat next to his father, daggers in his stony gaze. The store had been in the family for going on four generations, and the man who would have inherited the CEO position obviously didn’t approve of Clint moving in and taking it from him.

  Up until this morning, Clint had every intention of walking into this meeting and insulting them all as he insisted they take a pay cut, while slicing a few of the departments to really get the ball rolling. Sure, it meant cutting jobs, but everyone would have lost their jobs anyway when Kelley’s closed, so no harm done. Besides, Clint didn’t plan to keep Kelley’s open past Christmas. Once the final figures came in for the holiday season, Kelley’s would be sold off in pieces and Clint would move on.

  Then he met Evan and, just like that, Clint doubted the very reason he’d come to the board meeting in the first place. He didn’t need to come to Seattle to sign the papers. He could have stayed in Atlanta to finish up his business there—a needy man by the name of Jeffrey. Truth be told, Clint couldn’t get away from Jeffrey fast enough. The man had serious delusions of being a kept man, with Clint as his Daddy.

  If the deal hadn’t gone through for Kelley’s, Clint would have found another reason to leave Atlanta. Jeffrey aside, Georgia in August was torture. Too hot. Too humid. Too far away from his hometown. No matter where his business took him, he always found a way back to his favorite city. After meeting Evan, Clint had even more reason to stick around.

  He couldn’t deny his attraction to the smaller man. Attraction, nothing. More like obsession. It was more than wanting him as a lover. He wanted Evan’s story. What made a man who dressed in thousand-dollar suits work as a personal shopper at a family-owned department store? Sure, they had high-end merchandise, but it was no Saks. It didn’t even have multiple locations. He dressed nicer than the CEO, who continued to stare at Clint with cool, unyielding eyes.

  “Is there a reason we’re prolonging the inevitable?” Peter III barked.

  Because I don’t want to do this. Clint checked his phone, saw several texts that needed his reply, and set it back on the table. He didn’t even want to think about the number of emails he’d be missing as a result of this meeting. “I’m just waiting for everyone to join us.”

  He swung an aged gaze around the table. “You’ve got the entire board here, Mr. Duke. Let’s get on with it.”

  “Are you in a hurry to sell your company?”

  “On the contrary. I’d rather not sell my company at all. Kelley’s is an honorable store, home to a lot of honorable people. I’m only selling you this company so they keep their jobs through the holidays—at least most of them.”

  “For what I’m paying on this deal, you can afford to offer them each a handsome severance package.”

  Peter IV grew a deep red as his nostrils flared. “Are you seriously expecting the severance to come from us?”

  “If they are to receive a severance,” Clint countered. He hated to play hardball like this, kick them while they’re down, but he had his own company to run. Paying each employee a severance package could cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars he didn’t have room for on this deal.

  “You are something else. Do you even have a conscience?”

  “Peter.” The senior Kelley rested his hand on his son’s arm. He still hadn’t taken his watchful gaze off Clint. “Mr. Duke isn’t here to stop the Titanic from sinking. He’s here to keep it floating long enough to salvage anything worth a dollar before he lets it settle to the bottom of the ocean. Don’t worry about our employees. We’ll see they are taken care of. Now, let’s not draw this out.”

  “Very well. First up on the agenda…” Clint ignored the slight jolt to the system when he read the name. Shit. Of course he’d be the first one to fire. “Mr. Evan McKoy, Lead Personal Shopper and head of the department.” He lifted his gaze. “I assume he’s waiting outside.”

  Peter III narrowed his gaze into a hard glare. “Evan is a good man, one of our most loyal employees. Show him the respect he deserves when you destroy his dream.” He then nodded at his son, who stood and left the room.

  Clint lowered his attention to the agenda as Peter III’s words sank in. Jesus. Did he have to be so exact with his point? It was sharp and hit Clint hard, right in the feels. He waited until the door to his left opened before bringing his attention to the men entering the room.

  Evan McKoy marched in with purpose, his eyes hard, unkind. He held his head high, his chin thrust outward as he stopped on the opposite side of the room next to the Peters. Choosing his side, no doubt. His medium, toned build showcased the Armani suit perfectly—or maybe Clint had that backward. Evan wore his dark hair short, just the way Clint liked his men’s hair kept, and the contrast between the almost black hair and devil-blue eyes held his attention. He sat up and took notice, his dominant nature in overdrive as hard spikes of arousal attacked his senses.

  When Evan swung that glorious gaze his way, colliding it with his own, time stopped. Evan furrowed his brow at first, the unease evident in his stance. Slowly, painfully, comprehension set into his features, and Clint knew. Evan had already figured out why he’d been invited here today. Clint recognized the fury in Evan’s solid expression.

  He also recognized something else, something he saw down on the floor. Hunger, stark and vivid, hung in his gaze. A million thoughts rushed through Clint’s brain, but his mind settled on a single one. He pictured Evan stretched out, his hands tied above him, possibly blindfolded, while Clint licked and teased. He’d pull his lover’s dick between his lips and devour his flesh as he positioned himself perfectly for Evan to do the same. That image had his cock elated at the possibility of feeling Evan’s mouth surrounding it, or better yet, buried to the hilt in his curvy ass.

  “Mr. Duke.” Evan nodded, the detached tone digging into Clint’s core. It knocked him out of the very stimulating image and back into the land of the clothed.

  Okay, so Evan was pissed. Clint got that. Hell, he wasn’t all that happy to be here, either. Still, did he have to be so goddamn cold? “Evan, I’ve asked you to call me Clint.”

  “I’ll stick with Mr. Duke,” he fired back, the defiance practically screaming to be addressed. And Clint would. The instant he got Evan McKoy alone, he’d let him know how he dealt with his sub acting out, especially in a public setting.

  Only Evan wasn’t Clint’s sub. He wasn’t Clint’s anything. Curiosity, wild hunger, and, at the moment, irritation at Evan’s defiance and denial battled inside him. Oh, how he’d love for Evan to belong to him.

  “You two know each other?” Peter IV bounced his beady little gaze between the two men. Distrust burned in his eyes.

  “No,” Evan quickly answered before Clint had the chance. He turned his attention to his new boss. “We met on the floor when he was taking names.”

  “And kicking asses,” Clint mused. “Don’t forget that part.”

  Evan ignored Clint’
s attempt to lighten the mood. “He has my card. That’s all.”

  That sure as hell was not all. His muscles tensed as he narrowed his glare. Something happened between them, something he couldn’t explain. Evan pulled feelings to the surface with nothing more than a look from those gorgeous blue eyes. The man had a power over Clint he didn’t much appreciate, and something he had every intention of reversing. He wanted to own Evan, wanted him to submit completely, to give everything he was over to Clint. He’d never wanted anything more. There sure as hell was more between them than a card.

  “Then can we get started?” Peter III barked.

  Clint debated dealing with Evan first. Get him out of sight and off Clint’s mind. He didn’t need the distraction. But, knowing that was exactly what Evan wanted, Clint held back. Evan wanted Clint’s attention. Clint wanted to give it to him. It was a test of both their control, not giving in to their wants.

  “Gentlemen, if you would please turn to page three, we can walk through which departments will be the first to close.” Clint opened the folder in front of him. He’d had a few run-ins with the eldest living Kelley and, damn it, he liked the old man—which made this that much harder.

  “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Evan said in a cutting tone, his expression harsh. “I’d prefer to not stay for the fine print. Tell me why I’m here.”

  Evan broke too fast, something Clint would have to work on with his training. Blood pooled between Clint’s thighs and attacked his already straining control at the thought. His heart pounded in his ears, both from lust and irritation. Evan might be the sweetest piece of ass he’d ever seen, but he’d be damned before he let anyone talk to him like that, especially in front of the board.

  “Why do you think you’re here?”

  “Because you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life.”

  “Is that so?” Clint labored his breathing to stay focused and not drag Evan out of this room. Whether they ever grew to be lovers was irrelevant at this point. An employee would never be allowed to challenge the new owner like this. “What mistake is that?”

  “Closing Kelley’s.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “Yes.” It came out as a question. Evan’s expression softened into one of uncertainty. He quickly recovered and thrust out his chin. “And you’re a fool for doing so.”

  “Why’s that?” He relaxed in the chair and folded his hands in front of him. This should be interesting.

  Evan opened and closed his mouth several times as every set of eyes rested on him. Color splashed his cheeks. “It’s just, uh…”

  “How many successful business deals have you negotiated?”

  His color intensified. “That’s not the point.”

  “Is there one? Aside from you coming in here to insult me in front of my new board.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “You called me a fool. Trust me, Mr. McKoy. I’m no fool. Everything I do, I do with absolute purpose.” That last comment earned him an interesting look, one full of curiosity. As much as Clint would love to let that hang between them a little while longer to drive home his point, this power play didn’t do either of them any good. The sooner he ended this meeting, the sooner he’d get his executive assistant Angela on the phone to draw up the NDA for Evan. He didn’t know if the other man would be willing to sign a non-disclosure agreement, or even if he’d be open to an arrangement with Clint after this, but he had to at least try. He had yet to be turned down, especially when the contract came with a fat check.

  “For instance,” Clint went on, wishing he didn’t have to do this. By marching in here and making demands—not to mention throwing an insult at the new owner within the first minute—Evan left him no choice. An example had to be made. “Your department is being closed, effective immediately. Thank you for your services, but they will no longer be needed.”

  Evan paled. “You can’t do this.”

  “As the head of the department, set an example, Mr. McKoy. Leave quietly and I’ll see that you’re compensated. Make a scene…” he paused and nailed Evan with a glare, “…and you’ll receive nothing.”

  Clint braced himself for Evan’s reaction. If that hard look in those piercing blue eyes said anything, Evan was about to blow. But then he did something unexpected. He softened his expression and set the papers in his hand on the large conference table a dozen crusty old men in dark suits surrounded. Hell, he even smiled. “Mr. Duke, may I ask you a question?”

  “Evan,” Peter IV warned in a low voice.

  Clint brought up his hand to stop the protest from the youngest Kelley. “No, it’s okay. I’d love to hear what he has to say.”

  He lifted his dark brow and nailed Clint with his narrowed gaze. “Have you ever walked into a store, spotted a dozen black jackets, and hadn’t a clue which one to try on first?”

  The question caught him off guard. “Often. I hate spending hours looking through racks for the right item.”

  “How much would you say you make an hour?”

  “What the hell kind of question is that?”

  “Just a guess.”

  “Get to the point,” Clint growled.

  Evan colored hard, and it did wonders to bring out that gorgeous blue in his eyes. “My point is that time is valuable. Having to try on a dozen jackets to find the perfect fit could cost you thousands in lost revenue. Who’d want to spend time searching for a jacket when you could be in meetings such as this?”

  Clint chuckled. He made a good point. Regardless, Clint had to make his point louder. “Let me make something clear. Kelley’s has been losing money for years. With online services delivering anything you could possibly want right to your doorstep, department stores are becoming obsolete.”

  “Kelley’s is more than a department store. It’s the personal experience. We have people who’ll help you find whatever you need. If it’s sold at Kelley’s, we’ll find it. Sure, you can order a ten-dollar shirt online and hope it looks as good on you as it does on the model. Even if it doesn’t, you’re only out ten dollars. No one takes into account the time spent scrolling through pages and pages of shirts until you choose one. Imagine how much a shirt would be worth if it fit like it was made for you. The right suit can make the man.”

  Another good point, damn it. Clint nodded. “Go on.”

  “With my services, you no longer have to waste your time looking for that perfect fit or scrolling through pages for something you don’t hate. I already know your size and what style would look best on you. I know how you prefer last year’s line, the way it hangs from the shoulders, the way it hugs your frame.”

  Heat danced around his neck. He didn’t say that to have it used against him, especially in front of the board. But, damn it, Evan’s points kept getting better and better. “What’s your proposal, exactly?”

  “Me.”

  “You?” Clint’s nerves tightened. Was he still talking about a jacket?

  “Instead of wasting hours sifting through endless options, you’d already have the one you need waiting for you. I’d fit you perfectly.” Evan’s full lips tipped up.

  Now he knew they weren’t talking about clothes. That heated look in Evan’s eyes couldn’t be denied. Why the hell would he boldly come on to him in front of the board? Was this some sort of payback for Clint doing the same thing down on the sales floor?

  The fact Evan challenged him like this had Clint’s blood boiling. Dear Jesus, how he wanted to get Evan alone and fit him with something else that would be a perfect size. Clint grinned but then quickly lost it when he realized every set of eyes in the boardroom had set on him. “How is it you know my size?”

  “It’s my job to know.”

  How impersonal. “Is there anything else?”

  “No,” Peter IV said.

  “Yes,” Evan said at the same time.

  Clint lifted his hand at Peter IV, annoyed the man thought he had the right to interrupt. The Kelley’s w
ere at this table only as a formality. None of them had a say in the future of the store, not anymore. He couldn’t wait to see what Evan had to say next. “Go on.”

  “As you leave this meeting today, I challenge you to look each and every person in the eye whose lives you are about to ruin by turning Kelley’s into your garage sale.”

  “It’s just business.”

  “To you,” he snapped, the passion in his voice sharp, exact. “To those people out there, this is their life. Some of us have never worked anywhere else. Kelley’s is our family, and you are about to break that up all to make a quick buck. Shame on you, Clint Duke, and shame on Duke Enterprises for building an empire on the broken dreams of the people you’ve destroyed.”

  Holy hell. Evan didn’t know it, but he’d managed to hit on the one point that made Clint the most uncomfortable about this deal. Clint sighed as he made a decision that would earn him a long, angry lecture from his uncle. “Can you fit me with a tuxedo and have it delivered by Friday?”

  Evan’s mouth fell open. He snapped it closed and regained his composure in a heartbeat, another feature Clint found intriguing. He then straightened his tie and gave a curt nod.

  “Congratulations, Evan McKoy. You’ve just bought your department another week.”

  “I–I did?”

  Clint loved the way Evan suddenly looked so lost and innocent. His protective nature went into high alert. He wanted to take Evan into his arms and save him from the evils of the world.

  Including him.

  “I don’t often change my mind, so don’t make me regret this.” He regarded the men around the table as he stood and fastened the button on his suit jacket. “Gentlemen, I’ll expect this week’s numbers on my desk first thing Monday. We’ll reconvene then.” He glanced to the door, expecting to see Evan smiling proudly and frowned to see he’d already left.

  “Mr. Duke, let me be the first to say how much we appreciate your generosity.” One of the crusty members of the board shook Clint’s hand. “I’m sure Kelley’s will be able to deliver.”