The man looks like he’s been through a war zone. His tie is undone, hanging around his neck. His shirt is untucked, wrinkled, and the cup in his hand isn’t The Bean Bar. Harsh lines cut through his handsome face and shadow the sharp, bony edges of his chin, and those brilliant blue eyes seem more like dim stars drowned by the city lights.
“W-what happened?” I stutter.
He takes my hand and pulls me across the threshold.
“Inside. We’ll talk about it in here.” He closes the door.
“Don’t touch me,” I say, my voice hard, giving him pause.
He doesn’t drop my hand; his fingers just tighten around mine.
“Are you upset with me?”
“Does a porcupine have quills?” I snap. “Tell me what’s going on or I’m leaving.”
I jerk my hand out of his and place it on my hip. I cock my head and stare at him.
“I’m sorry I left you like that,” he admits, genuine sorrow in his voice.
At least we’re past playing dumb.
“Where did you go, Mag?” I ask, my voice softening. “And why did you get so serious all of a sudden? You look like you just got back from a freaking funeral.”
“I was at the hospital.” He puts a finger in front of his lips like he’s shushing me.
What. Is. Going. On?
I open my mouth, confused and sad and angry, sicker than I’ve ever been of games.
But he speaks before I can.
“Lower your voice. Please,” he whispers, running a hand over his tired face. “He finally went to sleep a little while ago. We shouldn’t wake him.”
“Wake who?” I’m not following him.
Is this some weird control thing? A test? Maggot needs to understand he’s not running anything, much less my mouth. But as soon as I look past his broad shoulders, I spot who.
There’s a boy. A teenager curled up on the huge leather couch with the same sandy-dark hair as Magnus Heron. His eyes are closed. He’s wrapped in a blanket, lightly snoring, his arm draped over the side.
It’s a gut punch that almost drops me to my knees.
Holy shit.
“You...you have a kid?” My voice is low now, because I can barely breathe. “You’re a dad?”
“Brina...”
I hold up a hand, my lips trembling.
“And in spite of all our...” I pause, thinking of a word, “...entanglements, you never thought to tell me?”
I open my eyes again and study the boy. He’s older for sure, maybe in middle school or a high school freshmen?
Jesus. Mag would’ve been a kid himself when he—
“I don’t have a kid,” he growls, sweeping me into his arms, those blue eyes coming back to life. “I have a half brother. He’s the reason I asked you here.”
There goes the world dropping out under me. I’m literally floored.
“Brother?” I whisper.
He shrugs.
What the hell?
“Let’s go to my room, so we can talk without having to worry about Jordan waking up,” he says.
I’m so lost.
“Um, not to make this difficult, but since when is Jordan part of my job?”
He shakes his head and scoffs.
“Brina, what kind of monster do you think I am? Don’t you know me better?”
Ouch.
He’s right. Whatever this is, it’s clearly got him torn up.
So I bite my lip, close the space between us, and place a hand on his chest. “The kind of monster who kisses me and says forget about it. The kind that undresses me and leaves without telling me why—”
His lips attack mine, cutting me off.
He licks my lip tenderly, and I open my mouth.
So much for being strong.
He traces past my lips with his tongue, silencing me with the unrelenting glory of his kiss. Then he pulls away.
“I didn’t forget about anything, woman. And I’m about to explain where I went and why, as if the kid on the couch and the word hospital aren’t big enough clues.”
He hugs me tight, kissing my forehead. Next thing I know, he takes my hand and leads me to his bedroom.
I know his intentions aren’t mean-spirited. They can’t be. He wouldn’t have sent Armstrong to pick me up if they were. But God, for once, I wish they were.
Dealing with King Asshole is so much easier than handling Mag with his hangdog looks and a very vulnerable-looking child half his age.
Talk about surreal.
I flop down on the lush white bed in the middle of the room. Mag sits on the trunk at the end of it.
“I thought he’d be awake all night, Sabrina. He fought me. He didn’t want to come here. He doesn’t even know who the hell I am, and he was pissed he couldn’t stay with his mom.”
“He doesn’t? What? Why didn’t you let him?” I ask, shaking my head.
He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “The social worker at the hospital said he couldn’t. Either I had to pick him up, or they were going to CPS. There’s no next of kin.”
“CPS?” I ask.
“Child Protective Services. She said they couldn’t have an unsupervised minor hanging out at the hospital past ten o’clock, and this doesn’t appear like it’s going to be a quick stay.”
“Is his mom okay?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“I’m not sure. The woman’s in a coma. I need a few days off to deal with this,” he says.
I nod, slowly taking this in.
“Sure. Time off. It’s no big—”
“Brina, you don’t understand. I’ve never taken a day off since I became the CEO. Ever. A lot’s going to fall on your shoulders,” he says.
Oh, crap—I can barely handle the executive assistant thing.
“Like what?” I ask, trying to ignore how my gut tightens.
“You’ll have to lead the airline presentation yourself. Ruby can handle personnel issues, but you need to know about it if anyone else in senior roles tries to get away for New Year’s. If you think it’s excessive or bad timing, veto it. Keep the creative and marketing teams on track, and make sure Hugo doesn’t submit any damned black-and-white concepts while I’m out of the office.”
I laugh, remembering the last artwork debacle with the pet food.
“Give Hugo a break. Everyone has a bad idea now and then.” I shake my head. “Mag, I can’t exactly—I’m not you. I’m barely an executive assistant. Ruby didn’t even want to hire me.”
“She agrees you’re the best EA I’ve ever had. It’s second nature to you.” He gets off the bed and comes to lie down beside me. “If I didn’t think you could do this, I’d either put Ruby in charge or hire a nanny. I know you can do it, Brina, and I’m counting on you.”
I nod limply, unsure what else to say.
“One more thing,” he says.
I laugh. “More than playing CEO?”
“Not more work, but you’re brilliant and you’ve done an amazing job. I want you to be more confident. That’s going to make a huge difference in your career. You do any task I dump on you with flying colors, but you need to think beyond it, too. Now, did you bring your laptop?”
I shake my head.
“Okay, I’ll get mine, because I’m going to have to walk you through logistics. You have access to my schedule, of course. You’ll need to attend all my meetings. You’re in charge of negotiations, but I’ll leave you my notes. You don’t need my approval unless something sounds off, though of course I’ll have your back. I’m going to send Ruby and all the department heads an email to let them know you’re carrying out my wishes.”