But I had no time to study the paintings today. I thought of poor Jake, and my chest tightened. Erica was hanging on by a thread. I needed to see this through and help her get her husband back safely.
I took the elevator to the 52nd floor.
“There you are.” Abigail, another assistant I’d been working with, rushed forward, looking harried. “Lisa needs you to sort this.”
Abigail slapped a file at me, blowing her straight, black bangs out of her eyes. Lisa was our boss and the head of marketing.
“Take this to the executive level on the top floor, and get Mr. Kensington to sign it.”
“Okay.” I dumped my bag and coat at my desk.
“As in, sign it now,” Abigail insisted. “His assistant, Eleanor, is impossible to get past. Especially if you’re young and gorgeous.”
I raised a brow. I knew I had my strengths, but I didn’t usually rate as gorgeous.
Abigail’s nose wrinkled. “There’s always some new hire or intern trying to wave their tits at Mr. Kensington.”
I grimaced. “Really?”
Abigail shooed me. “Go. Need it signed yesterday.”
I straightened my shoulders. “On it.”
“And don’t wave your tits.”
“I don’t…even know how to do that.” I needed to make one detour, then I’d get that file signed, and get a chance to scope out Liam Kensington up close and personal.
Before I had to shatter his glossy, expensive world.
A Much Better Offer
Liam
“I want a site visit organized for tomorrow.” Liam listened as his site manager responded. “Great. See you then, Brock.”
He set the phone down and swiveled in his chair. Damn, he needed a coffee. He’d had an early start, and he’d kill for a caramel macchiato. Zane and Mav gave him hell for liking sweet coffees, but he didn’t care.
He looked out the window at the magnificent view of Manhattan. His gaze tracked across the skyline and found his friend Zane’s building. He smiled. He picked up the phone again, and dialed.
“Zane Roth’s office,” a male voice said.
“Justin, it’s Liam.”
“One moment, Mr. Kensington.”
A moment later a deep voice came on the line. “Zane Roth.”
“You’re actually at work. You managed to pull yourself away from the lovely Ms. O’Connor.”
“Screw you, Kensington.” But Zane’s tone was happy, with a touch of smug.
“How are the legs?”
Zane made a sound. “Fine.”
“How about dinner tonight?” he asked. “I’ll call Mav, too. See if I can pry him out of his lab.” The tech billionaire preferred inventing stuff to business meetings or parties.
“I’ll check with Monroe,” Zane said. “Sounds good. You cooking?”
“I think I will.”
“Excellent. The one thing I don’t argue about is your skill in the kitchen, Liam.”
“Bring a bottle of something expensive.”
Zane snorted. “Hell, no. I’ll be raiding your cellar.” Zane paused. “You okay?”
Liam frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I heard your father was in town.”
Liam scowled. That explained why he had several messages from his father that he had no plans to return. “I don’t give a flying fuck about him.”
“I know, but I also know that families are complicated.”
Liam released a breath. Zane’s father had abandoned him and his mother when Zane was a kid.
Hell, Liam wished that Rupert Kensington had abandoned him.
“Well, I’m going to do my best to stay uncomplicated and avoid him.”
“Good luck. See you tonight.”
A moment later, Liam’s assistant appeared in the doorway. Eleanor Rollings was a forty-year-old mother of two and the wife of a successful surgeon. She was attractive, had glossy, dark-brown skin and black hair she wore in all different styles. Today it was straightened and she wore it tied back in a ponytail. She was frighteningly competent.
“Your father’s on the line,” she said.
Liam ground his teeth together.
“I told him no,” Eleanor said. “But the man is persistent.”
“That’s one word to describe him.”
“You have a marketing meeting in fifteen minutes for the Borden Project.”
His newest baby. “Thanks. I’ll talk to him. It might make him stop calling.”
Eleanor raised a brow, then closed the door behind her.
Liam snatched up the phone. “Father.”
“Liam, my boy.” His father’s posh British accent came down the line. His tone was jovial.
“I’m busy. What do you want?”
“I’m in New York.”
Liam waited.
His father’s tone turned less jovial. “I want to see my son.”
Sure. He wanted a loan, or for Liam to consider a deal, or for Liam to introduce him to somebody. “I’m busy.”
“I’m also getting married. I want you to meet Cressida, and to invite you to the wedding.”
Fuck. Liam felt a headache coming on. He really needed that coffee. He also wanted to throw something. “Father, I have a meeting now. I’m sorry, but I don’t have the time to meet your future fourth wife.”
“Liam—” An angry growl.
Liam hung up. Bloody hell, this would rile his mother up. And break the heart of Annabelle. Rupert’s third wife actually loved him.
Liam wished his father would actually be a father to his youngest children. Annabelle had a boy and a girl, and Liam kept in touch. Did what he could to be a male role model in George and Amelia’s lives.
Right. Meeting. He rose and fastened his suit jacket.
He strode out to see a slim brunette facing off with Eleanor.
“I really need a minute of Mr. Kensington’s time,” the woman said.
“Leave the paperwork on the desk,” Eleanor said, tone unyielding.
The brunette wore a sleeveless purple dress, with a low-cut neckline. She spotted him, and her face lit up, her over-full lips forming a perfect pout.
“Mr. Kensington,” she said in a breathy voice that would do Marilyn Monroe proud.
She looked vaguely familiar. Maybe from the Sales department? Or Finance?
“Leave it with Eleanor,” he said. “I have a meeting.”
The brunette sidestepped in front of him. “I can bring it back later.”
Shit, she’d be lucky to be twenty-two.
“Leave it with Eleanor,” he repeated.
She touched her hand to his chest. “I’m really good, Mr. Kensington…at my job. If there’s anything I can do for you…”
An amused snort cut through the moment.
His head shot up.
He saw the blonde—medium-height, athletic body with curves in the right places packed into a long, gray skirt. Her blonde hair was loose around a bold face. She had strong features, intriguing, with a dimple in her chin. Her bright-green eyes were dancing with unhidden amusement.
Penn Channing.
His gut tightened. Luckily—or not, perhaps—he’d been so busy with work, he’d managed to stop himself from dropping by the Marketing floor for no good reason, just to get another glimpse of her.