I’ve never understood the obsession with modern furniture. To me, it gives off nothing but cold and uncomfortable vibes. Or maybe that’s because I spent three years living in a cozy cabin and learned that there was a whole lot more to life than having the latest designer trends.
The door clicks shut behind me, but Mr. Van Clark doesn’t acknowledge my existence by looking up from whatever he’s typing on the computer. His concentrated gaze remains as cold as the air blowing through the AC unit.
The young, devastatingly handsome entrepreneur has made a name for himself in Seattle as his competition’s top rival. His passion for being the best is as addictive as it is intimidating. His rigid jawline, sharp cut of his cheekbones, and perfectly set dark hair make one question whether they should love him or hate him. I, for one, wish I could hate him.
This is normally the drill. I enter, I sit, I wait. Eventually, the swanky socialite will pull his head out of his ass to give me the time of day. But today, I’m in a mood—a foul mood, thanks to an account that slipped right out of my fingers and landed in the arms of Mallory Shuman.
Mallory is the other project manager on board with qualifications that trump mine any day of the week. She’s been out for blood since the moment I stepped foot in the office, yet Dexter does nothing to stop her blatant viciousness. He expects me to fight back in the form of better presentations, bigger profit margins, and more positive reviews from our clients.
My heels tap across the porcelain floor until I reach his desk and realize that he’s not ignoring me. He’s simply deeply focused on whatever is on his screen. Still, I’ve learned that in order to be seen at Urgency, I must demand it.
I clear my throat, causing my boss’s head to snap up, his eyes clear with surprise at my interruption. Interruptions aren’t my style, and neither is the raised brow on my forehead, pinned there just for him. But can he really be upset when he’s the one who demanded my presence?
Instinct prompts me to straighten my shoulders. “You needed to see me, Mr. Van Clark?”
He lifts his fingers from the keyboard and leans back in his chair while assessing me with narrowed lids. “I certainly did, Miss Davies.” His inappropriate gaze drifts between my yellow blazer, down to my knee-high pencil skirt, only stopping there because the edge of his desk is blocking his view. “You’re impatient today.”
“Just busy,” I snap.
Steel-gray eyes flick back to mine. “Well, then. Have a seat, and we’ll get started right away. Because in my opinion, you aren’t busy enough.”
My mouth falls open, and my chest heats. How dare he speak to me like that when he knows damn well that I put in a generous number of extra hours, no matter what the situation. “Mr. Van—”
His palm shoots out, stopping me from going any further. “You wanted to get started, so let’s do just that. I’ll make this quick. There’s a marketing project that I’ll need you to head with a new client who is in desperate need of our expertise for their grand reopening. You’ll be on-site for two weeks, then you’ll remain their lead contact back here at the office. While you’re there, they’ll provide your lodging, your meals, and your transportation if needed. It’s not the Ritz, not in the least,” he mumbles, “but there’s potential, and I believe you’re the right woman for the job. Any questions?”
My head is spinning at the news he unleashed. Did I hear him correctly? He wants to give me my own project, just like that? “I’m sorry, I think I might be misunderstanding. What about Mallory?” Even when projects do become mine, she usually always supervises my every move.
“Unfortunately, this is a smaller budget project than we’re used to. I can only send one of you. Since you were requested by the client, it’s got to be you.”
“I was requested? By who?”
“By an ex-coworker of yours. A Miss Silver Livingston.”
I should have known my best friend would use her powers to call in favors for me. She knows how hard I’ve been working to land my first solo contract. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful. I finally get an opportunity to prove myself without Mallory casting a shadow over all of my hard work.
“The project is yours, Miss Davies.” He tilts his head. “Unless you aren’t up for the task.”
I jump slightly at his condescending tone. “Of course I am. You know I’ve been wanting my own account for some time now. It’s just—there’s usually a different process to all of this, and Mallory is normally part of that process. I’m making sure I’m not missing anything.”
“You’ve been at Urgency for a year now. Your annual review is approaching, and you’ve yet to manage a single project on your own.”
“Not for lack of deserving one.” My sharp tone rivals his, which I’ve learned is exactly what Dexter Van Clark gets off on.
His chin rises at my challenge before he slides a black folder from his desk and waves it in the air like he’s dangling bait. “Well, then now is your time to shine, Miss Davies. Prove to me that you’re capable of managing all aspects of this reopening, from start to finish, and then we can talk about your future at Urgency. Consider this a probationary promotion.”
I swallow while measuring my next move. He’s not going to get up from that chair to hand me that folder. He wants me to walk around his desk and take it. Without another second of delay, I rise and do as he expects.
He turns his chair at my approach, showcasing a fully hard erection fighting its way through his shiny gray pants. I wish I didn’t find it insanely hot and that my skin didn’t go flush at the sight. He can probably see my own arousal written on my face. And if I get any closer, he’ll be able to hear the shallow breaths that escape. I need to stand my ground.
I keep a couple feet of distance between us and reach for the folder he holds out to me. But when I go to take it, his grip is unrelenting as he keeps hold of one side of the folder and stares directly into my eyes. “Looking rather delectable today, Miss Davies.” His voice is low and raspy, and I swear I feel it vibrating between my thighs.
He gives a little tug of the folder we’re both gripping, causing me to stumble the last couple of steps and land directly between his opened legs. Sleek, manicured fingers grip my chin while yanking me to his greedy mouth. Then he groans before sliding his tongue against mine like he’s trying to claim it the way he does with everything else he wants.
“Fuck me,” he growls.
My heart jerks into my throat, and my skin blisters with the potential embarrassment of getting caught. “What?” I laugh. “Now?”
He presses a kiss to my neck and reaches between my legs. “Do you have a problem with my request, Miss Davies?”
My body trembles against his touch. “Your request is highly inappropriate, considering Mallory is due to your office for a meeting any minute now.”
He lifts his brows with a challenge as his fingers graze the fabric over my opening. “You’ll be relieved to know I’ve already pushed her meeting. We have fifteen minutes.” Smooth fingers slip beneath the thin fabric to find my aching center. “Unless you’d like for me to call her in here so she can watch everything I’m about to do to you.”