Brecken glances over at Oliver walking beside me, not wearing a shirt, and then back to me in my sports bra and tiny shorts. He frowns and immediately looks away, returning to his run without even breaking stride.
Regret lines my stomach.
“Do you remember that guy I met on New Year’s right before I moved back?”
He thinks on this for a moment and then nods. “You and Savannah called him Mister Charming?”
“Mr. Sexy Voice, but yeah. Him. Well, his name is Brecken Davenport.”
Oliver’s eyebrows pinch in. “I thought you never got his… wait, did you say Davenport?”
“I did.”
“As in Aria Davenport.”
I shoot him with my finger. “One and the same. He’s her older brother. I met him last night when we went out for drinks. He’s in town for a year for work.”
Oliver starts laughing. Hard. To the point where people walking on the sidewalk are giving him strange looks.
I smack his shoulder. “It’s not funny.”
“You’re right. It’s fucking hysterical.” He’s still cackling, wheezing and all. “Does Aria know?”
I shake my head, gnawing on my bottom lip. “No. And both he and I agreed not to tell her.”
“Yikes.” He rubs his hand at his mouth, trying to cover his residual smile and failing miserably. “What if she finds out?”
I shake my head adamantly. “She won’t because if she did, it wouldn’t go over so well. She told us about how he messed up a few of her friendships in high school by getting involved with her friends.”
“And you like him, so that’s obviously going to be a problem.”
I balk at that. Kinda hard. “What do you mean I like him? I don’t even know him.”
“Except you look guilty and if you didn’t like him, you wouldn’t look like that.”
I narrow my gaze. “Did you miss the part where I said he’s Aria’s brother?”
“No. I caught that. But that was before you knew her and if you weren’t still attracted to him, you’d laugh it off, call it a crazy coincidence and move on. But you look like you did after you broke Luca’s brand-new train set on Christmas morning. Guilty as fuck. Which means you like him.”
“Shut it, Dr. Phil. You know nothing.”
“That’s Dr. Oliver to you. And I know everything. Obviously.” A shit-eating grin spreads his face so wide I can see all of his teeth. “Could it be Rina Fritz finally has a crush? Ironic after all this time of dodging feelings like the plague that you just so happen to catch them for the one man in this city you can’t have.”
7
brecken
I can safely say I’ve been dreading this moment for the last month. A dread that has only grown in the days leading up to it. I slept like shit, again, last night. If it hasn’t been Rina on my mind like a goddamn song you can’t get out of your head, it’s been this.
Rina. I intentionally walked past her place yesterday morning on my stroll down to meet Wes at the hospital. I also went back to the coffee shop this morning before trekking down here.
What am I doing, you ask?
No fucking clue.
I’m pissed at her and I want her. I’m frustrated and jealous. To the point where I’m tempted to bang on her door, scream in her face, and then kiss the hell out of her for making me dream about her all weekend.
And man, my dreams were filthy. I woke up hard and no matter how many times I jerked off to her, my appetite wasn’t sated, it was egged on.
Me pinning her down, taking her over and over while she stares up into my eyes. Me fucking her against the wall, her legs around my waist, her hands above her head. Me tying her wrists and eating her out until she’s coming so hard she begs me to stop because it feels so good it’s like a punishment.
My thoughts were savage. My hunger a rampage fueled by a fit of senseless anger.
I can’t like her. I can’t fuck her. And I can’t date her.
No. I am not allowed anything where Rina Fritz is concerned and yet—motherfucking yet—she is everywhere.
I didn’t get a good look at the guy’s face she was with the other day when I saw her wearing practically nothing after what I assume to be a workout. She looked sexy as all sin, red cheeks, sweat-dampened forehead, blonde hair pulled back off her face, and I’m not even going to get into the outfit. Our eyes met and the force of it knocked the wind from me. I jogged for another ten feet until I had to stop and make sure she wasn’t looking while I caught my breath.
Something like that has never happened to me before and I can’t do anything about it because she called me a mistake she regrets—though I’m about ninety-seven percent sure she lied about that—and she’s Aria’s best friend.
“You must be Brecken Davenport.” The average height man with a dad body and a slightly receding hairline, wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit and an overly white smile, has to be my boss. I recognize his voice but it’s more his gold Rolex, diamond pinky ring appearance that matches the arrogant asshole I spoke with on the phone.
“That’s me. You must be Richard.”
He shakes my hand, his grip hard as a rock, like he’s trying to overcompensate for the half foot height difference we have.
“Rich. Call me Rich.” He releases my hand and slaps my back like we’re buddies and I think it’s safe to say that I already hate him. “Welcome to Boston.”
“Thank you. I’m excited to be here.”
He chuckles, throwing me a look that says he knows otherwise. “Don’t lie on my account. I heard some of what went down with the IPO through the grapevine. Must be tough to be sent up here when things were going so well for you in New York. Alexander informs me you’re his ace protégé, which is why he’s giving you another shot here.”
Yup. Definitely hate.
I don’t so much as attempt to return his grin.
His dark eyes dance about my face, scrutinizing me, but his smile doesn’t so much as slip an inch. “In any event, we’re happy to have you. I’m sure some of the younger guys can learn a lot from you. Alexander seems to agree. He believes you’ll recharge our dwindling batteries.”
My eyebrows pinch in at his tone, but before I can ask what he means by that, I get another slap on the back of the shoulder and then he turns, expecting me to follow.
And while I do, I survey the large open floor. It’s all pretty standard. Rows of men and women in front of computer screens and on their phones. A large wall at the front of the room with several different large flat screens set to various business and finance news shows as well as a live ticker of global markets and stock prices.
I trail behind him, taking it in and meeting the eyes of the few random people who look up with a smile only to be rewarded with assessing stares and a few frowns.
“Alexander was tight-lipped,” Rich continues, throwing me a glance over his shoulder. “All he said was that you got snaked out by a rival firm. Care to explain?”
Not on your life, Dick. “Alexander has asked me to keep the specific details between us.”
The guy scowls but quickly gets it under control. “Well, here we’re all team players. We help each other out. If one of us is successful, we’re all successful. So we really can’t have you showboating around, snagging clients you haven’t earned if you know what I’m saying.”