The girl I’ve sought for most of my life. The girl I’ve dreamed about. Because this shit isn’t me. I’m supposed to be calm. Cool. Collected at all times. I don’t get a fucking hard-on in the middle of my lobby because a woman is naked.
But fuuuck.
Said that already.
I’m so annoyed with myself that I’m repeating crap in my own head. What the actual hell is wrong with me right now?
Why does she affect me like this?
This is the problem with being obsessed with someone . . . they make you crazy.
I offered to help her, and I’m damn thankful she didn’t take me up on the offer. Instead, she stood all by herself. Making said tits bounce in a way that has me picturing what they would look like if I—
Nope. Do not go there. A cough escapes my throat as I step out of the elevator.
“Follow me,” I say before making my way down the hall.
“You don’t have to be in such a rush,” she huffs.
“Believe it or not, some of us have things to do today.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means exactly how it sounds. I’m a busy man, Skye.”
She shuts her mouth after that, and I’m happy she does without fail.
We keep moving.
It’s empty in here. I’m sure she notices this. Huge office. No staff. It’s a front.
The faster she realizes this, the faster we can move past speaking about my real business and get on to why she’s truly here.
Skye trails behind me as I head to the other side of the room.
Her heels click in the distance, and it takes everything in my power not to stop, turn around, and watch her. Finally, I make it to my door, swing it open, and step inside.
She is right behind me.
I walk to the closet I have in here. I also have a bed behind the door in the back I would love to drop her onto, but I highly doubt she would find that tidbit of information interesting. I throw open the closet door and reach inside, grabbing a button-down. Then I turn back to her.
“Here.” My voice is strained, but again, she doesn’t call me out on why. Hell, at this point, I almost wish she would. The silence is deafening.
She takes it without an objection. I thought she might balk at me, but again, she surprises me.
She gives me that damn smirk, followed by a wink.
Then, there in front of me, she takes her shirt off. Her nipples press against the lace of her bra, begging to be let free and touched until she’s panting and moaning for more.
“Don’t have all day.” My voice sounds bored when really, it’s taking every bit of energy not to grab her in my arms and feast on her.
Luckily, she breaks the moment when she places my shirt over her body, buttoning only a few buttons, lifting the shirttails, and tying it so it is now cropped to fall at the waist of her skirt.
It looks good on her. Really fucking good.
“Now that you are put back together, take a seat so we can go over what I need from you.”
I turn my back on her and move to sit in my chair. The chair shifts, and the sound echoes like a stampede of elephants. She pulls hers out as well, and again, the same sound. I need to get a carpet in here or something. That shit is grating on my last nerve. Or maybe it’s her . . .
I’m starting to think I did not plan this out very well. Maybe Cyrus, being a smart-ass, was more intelligent than I first thought.
From across the desk, I watch as Skye stares across the room, her gaze is focused on the vase filled with flowers by the window. The vase I had filled with penitent’s rose, just to fuck with her.
“You like them?” My voice must startle her because she practically jumps out of her seat before turning back to me, a scowl on her face.
“Why am I here?” She straightens her back.
“Right. Cut to the chase. I like that.”
“Well, I don’t really have a choice,” she grits out. “Not sure what you offered Mr. Williams, but obviously, it was enough to uproot my life.”
She’s pissed, and rightfully so, but that’s not my problem. “I made him an offer—”
“He couldn’t refuse,” she fires back, rolling her eyes.
“Absolutely not.”
“So, here we are. Please tell me how I can be of service, and we can move this thing right along.” She looks at me with cold and discerning eyes.
There is more to it than this. She fought to work with Felix, and I wonder if my initial thought is true. Is she banging him? I’m not sure why, but my hands fist at my side. I shake my head, clearing the thoughts I don’t want right now.
“Since you’re my attorney now, this is all attorney-client privilege.”
“Certainly.”
“Very well. I want out,” I offer as my reason.
“Out?” Her eyebrows lift, clearly confused.
“Of the game,” I clarify.
“And the game is?”
I tilt my head, giving her a look that says are you kidding? “Don’t play coy, Skye—”
“Ms. Matthews,” she interrupts.
“You want me to call you Ms. Matthews?”
“Yes, I think—”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Um . . . excuse me?”
“Is this going to be a problem, Skye?” I lead, annoyed that she is being this difficult. “Should I call Seth and let him know this isn’t going to work?” If I do that, her job is as good as gone. She knows this. I know this. There is no reason to duck behind false pretenses. “Hope your résumé is all bright and shiny. Maybe you can be a public defender. That’s a good name for you . . . Sunshine.”
Her eyes go wide. She doesn’t like the nickname. It unnerved her.
Note to self . . . start calling her that.
Soon, she is righting herself, but her shock is replaced quickly with anger. The scowl that lines her face is priceless. It’s also a look I have seen many times in my life: pure, unadulterated hatred. It oozes out of her pores. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Good thing they don’t, because I still have one more game to play. After that, I’d happily die by her hand.
“Yes, Skye. I want to go legitimate. Good enough for you?”
“Yes. But I don’t see how I can be of service.”
“I have a few loose ends I want to tie up, and I need to make sure nothing, and I mean nothing, interferes with that.”
“So, what does that mean? You’re talking in riddles.”
“Until I get completely out, and all of my holdings are on the up-and-up, I need my new lawyer with me.”
“How much time?”
“All of it. All the time. All the meetings. Every day until this is over.” Her mouth drops. This isn’t the first time since I have known her that she has worn this look. The shock on her face is almost laughable.
“Don’t worry, Skye, Williams already knows.”
“You need a high-priced babysitter?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“You want me to follow you around and make sure you don’t get into trouble. That sounds like a babysitter. A nanny of sorts.” She’s a feisty one, and although I expected it, I didn’t realize how much I would like it. That spitfire attitude is a real turn-on. And since most women don’t think of talking back to me, let alone casually insulting me, I feel like a fish out of water.