I felt the air move between us as his chest heaved with his breaths. His scent swirled between us, making me feel light-headed. Against all my better judgment, I wanted Ellison York.
Desperately.
I wanted him to follow through on the interrupted promise he made when he dropped to his knees in that closet. I wanted another taste of his sweet mouth and hot dick. I wanted to run my hands into his slightly overgrown hair and yank it until he glanced up at me with lust-glazed eyes, begging to suck me off.
“Yes, sir,” he said through his teeth.
My dick roared to life, and I shoved him back so I could get some distance between us. “Then stop arguing with me, and do your damned job.”
“And what is my job, exactly? What does being your personal assistant mean?”
“It means whatever I want it to mean.”
His lips parted, probably in shock and outrage, but for just a second, I let myself imagine he felt something different. Something yearning.
Thankfully, the elevator doors opened seconds later, spilling us out into my foyer. The air was cool and silent. Jenny had left on the lamp on the entry table, and the area glowed with a soft light. Through the arched doorway ahead, the city lights were visible. The living room’s wall of windows was like a magnet to anyone who visited. Not that many people did.
“Christ,” Ellison muttered, leaving his suitcase behind and following the view until he stood silhouetted against the evening sky. “You can see Jersey from here.”
“My housekeeper, Jenny, will be in at six. She can make whatever you want for breakfast. We’ll leave here at seven to make a seven-thirty meeting at the Plaza. Just a reminder, you have a nondisclosure agreement on file, and that now covers our discussions as well.”
“Only to the extent they’re relevant to York Capital work product,” he corrected without looking away from the city lights.
“The meeting is relevant to York Capital. I’m interviewing someone we may choose to invest in.”
I found the package that had been delivered and ripped the large envelope open to read the documents inside. They were the signed real estate agreement for one of the properties I was acquiring for a special project. I smiled to myself. Only one property remained before I owned the entire city block and could move to the next phase of the project.
“Who?” Ellison asked.
I shoved the papers back into the envelope. “Ben Aldeen. He’s—”
“The inventor of Smart Resin.” Ellison turned to face me. “Does he know you’re working for us? I mean, for York? He turned us down a couple of months ago.”
“Because your father insulted him and went to the initial meeting underprepared. But no, and he doesn’t need to know yet. If he doesn’t want York to invest, he can choose from any branch of Blackwood. He won’t be accepting seed money from York Capital. He’ll be choosing to partner with me, regardless of where the money comes from.”
I could see Ellison was impressed. Ben Aldeen wasn’t an easy man to get a meeting with. He’d been burned pretty badly with his first venture capital experience and was understandably antsy about working with another.
“What if he meets me and gets scared off?”
“Have you met him before?” I asked. “Were you in the meeting your father had with him?”
“No. But he’ll obviously recognize my last name.”
I gestured for him to grab his bag and follow me. “Why would he know the last name of my personal assistant?” I asked, leading Ellison down the hall toward the guest bedroom. His silence was delicious.
“Okay,” he said slowly when we reached the bedroom. “What exactly do you need me to do during the meeting, then?”
“Just sit there and look pretty. Take notes if I ask you to. That sort of thing.”
I expected him to balk, but he just grinned. “I can do that. It’s been a long time since I’ve had so little expected of me. Might be a nice change.”
Cocky bastard.
“Bed, bathroom, television,” I said, gesturing around the room and trying not to picture his naked ass in my home. What the hell had I been thinking? The temptation of having him so close was going to ruin me. “The kitchen is on the far side of the living room. Help yourself to anything.” I cleared my throat and walked out before he had a chance to say anything stupid.
And before I had a chance to grab him and toss him face-first into the bed.
As I made my way down the hall, I called Marcel.
“When you didn’t call back after the Emperor of Evil was escorted out of the building, I thought Ellison York might be your new favorite assistant,” he said with mock sadness.
“No you didn’t. Listen, I’m having Ellison attend the Aldeen meeting with me tomorrow morning, so I won’t need you there. Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite,” I said dryly. “I’ll brief you on everything after the fact.”
Marcel was uncharacteristically hesitant. “Grey, you know I make a point not to interfere in your business decisions—”
I snorted. “Since when?”
“—but have you really thought this through? What is this thing with Ellison York going to accomplish? It’s not like you.”
“I’ve got it under control,” I assured him, though I wasn’t sure at all. “Can you get Ricky or Ted over here? If I don’t get rid of this tension, I won’t be able to sleep.”
“No problem. I’ll text you after I get a hold of someone.”
“Thanks.” I ended the call and let out a breath. I put the real estate paperwork in my office before sitting to wait for the masseuse to show up. It had taken months of doctor visits before I’d learned the headaches I was having were from tight muscles in my neck and shoulders. In the run-up to the York takeover, I’d missed several massage appointments, and I was feeling the results.
My hands shook with a strange combination of nerves and excitement. Ellison York was here under my roof, willing to do just about anything to help dear old dad out of trouble. Instead of being surly and argumentative, he was downright agreeable and personable.
I began to wonder who was doing a better job of keeping the other off-balance.
Because I was the one who felt unsure of what was going to happen next and which Ellison York was going to appear at breakfast.
And I hated feeling out of control.
6
Ellison
“So in war, the way is to avoid what is strong, and strike at what is weak.”
~ Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Even though I thought I’d have trouble falling asleep under the same roof of the man who’d haunted my dreams for fifteen years, as soon as I finished studying the acquisition paperwork I’d snuck a copy of, I was out. I slept hard until my alarm pinged at five thirty. There was a missed text from my sister the night before asking for an update, and I kicked myself for forgetting to contact her.
Me: I’m handling it, but I have to work my two weeks’ notice. Sorry.
I knew she wouldn’t mind my absence since my role at the academy was fundraising and development, but it still rankled. I’d waited so long to finally be free of my father and York Capital, and now here I was again.