Guarded King (Empty Kingdom #3)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

CHLOE

I ’m typing up meeting notes when Roman’s office door flies open. He stands there, one hand braced against the doorframe, and pins me with his gaze. “Can you join me, Miss Callahan?”

In the three days I’ve worked for Roman, I’ve learned a lot about him. Already, I’ve become familiar with his likes and dislikes, as well as his habits. He enjoys his coffee extra hot, with just a hint of cream. He wants all the daily newspapers folded and on his desk first thing in the morning. He doesn’t like people who waste his time, and he doesn’t suffer fools lightly. And for some reason, he prefers to call me to his office in person rather than use the intercom.

“Coming.” I stand, gathering my notebook and pen before entering his domain. He’s not wearing his suit jacket, making it difficult for me to avoid admiring the way his broad shoulders narrow to a trim waist as he returns to his desk. He must work out, yet with the number of hours he puts in here, I can’t imagine when.

Last night and the night before, he was still working when he insisted I leave for the day. I was surprised, considering what Lena said about having to work long hours. I’ve still returned home later than when I worked for Geoff, but my former boss left at five p.m. on the dot every day, so that’s hardly a surprise. So far, though, I’ve been home in time to make dinner for Dad both nights.

I don’t know how long Roman stayed after I left. He just walked out of his office, checked his watch, and told me to head home. The first day, I was too distracted by the way his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms and the muscles that flexed as he checked the time, to ask questions. The unexpected sight left me strangely flustered, which is ridiculous, because I’ve seen plenty of forearms in my life, and none of them made my stomach flutter like that.

In fact, I can’t remember the last time any man gave me that feeling.

What makes the response even more ridiculous is that he’s been nothing but aloof since I started here. Honestly, that’s fine with me. I don’t need a boss who’s warm and fuzzy. Even if it would be nice to get a smile or a word of praise every now and then. It’s hard to believe we’re developing a rapport when those icy eyes seem to stare straight through me.

Still, once in a while, something unreadable flashes in them—so brief I can’t tell if it’s approval or something else. I’d like to believe he appreciates my work, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

I sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk and cross my legs. As I glance up, Roman’s gaze seems momentarily fixed on where my skirt has ridden up slightly. But before I can fully register it, his focus is back on his computer screen. It happened so fast, I wonder if I’m imagining things.

I’m even less sure what I saw was real when he speaks and his voice is as smooth and unaffected as ever. Even if he did notice my inadvertent flash of skin, it probably didn’t even register on his distraction scale.

“I need you to attend the meeting at Haverscombe Industries with me this morning.”

“Of course.” I hold my pen poised over my notebook. “Do you want me there to take notes only, or is there something else you need from me?”

“I’ll need detailed notes, but I also want you to compare his proposal with what we’ve agreed upon internally. Roger Haverscombe is a slick bastard. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to slip something past us.”

“Haverscombe.” Biting the end of my pen, I sift through everything I’ve absorbed over the last few days and the conversations I’ve had with Sophie about ongoing projects. “The plan is for them to work with us on the construction of the InnovaCore Energy headquarters building at Hudson Yards, right?”

Roman’s mouth tilts—just barely—in what might be the closest thing I’ve seen to a smile since I started working for him. “That’s right.”

I blink, momentarily caught off guard. He’s ridiculously handsome at the best of times, but with the slight softening of his usual stern expression, he’s beautiful.

My heart gives a little stutter, and I clear my throat, dragging my focus back where it belongs. Developing even a mild crush on my boss is a complication I don’t need. “What time will we need to leave for the meeting?”

“Eleven. We’ll take my car. Make sure you’re not just familiar with the project details, but also with the potential challenges and questions we might need to address during the meeting.”

Without thinking, I let out a small, disbelieving snort, then instantly wince.

His dark brows arch. “Did I say something amusing, Miss Callahan?”

I swallow hard. “Not amusing, no. It’s just… in my previous position, I wasn’t exactly encouraged to have more than a surface-level understanding of project details before meetings.” Even Geoff Sr. didn’t take full advantage of my willingness to go beyond the basics. I was often used as little more than a glorified secretary, despite my efforts to learn everything I could.

Something sharp glitters in his eyes, there and gone in an instant. But all he says is “That’s a shame.”

His tone doesn’t give much away, but there’s something about the way he says it—almost as if he’s irritated on my behalf. The thought sends a lick of warmth through me. Before it has a chance to grow into something more, I rise, clutching my notebook. “Is there anything else, Mr. King?”

His full focus is on me as I stand in front of him, and for some ridiculous reason, the intensity of it makes my nipples tighten beneath my blouse.

Heat creeps up my face. I can’t exactly look down to check whether my reaction is noticeable, and crossing my arms over my chest would only draw more attention.

Roman’s gaze flickers down, his eyes narrowing, and my traitorous nipples tighten even more—as if to make absolutely sure he can’t miss them. The strong column of his throat works as he swallows, then he gives an abrupt shake of his head. “Nothing else. Just be ready to leave at eleven.”

I whirl away, relief sweeping through me. But as I exit the room, I swear I can still feel the weight of his stare on my back.

It’s enough to send a rush of heat through my veins. So much so that when I pull the door closed behind me, I let out a shuddery breath and fan my cheeks. After a few steadying breaths, I do my best to shake off my reaction and focus on preparing for the meeting ahead.

An hour later, I have my tote over my shoulder with my tablet tucked inside, and I’m standing next to Roman in the elevator. The whole ride down to the foyer, I fight the urge to breathe in his soap and citrus scent. Even in my heels, the top of my head only just reaches his shoulder, the sheer bulk of him making it impossible to ignore how imposing he is.

And how attractive.

As we descend, more people crowd into the elevator, forcing us to step back until we’re pressed against the rear wall and the left side of my body is flush against the hard line of his.

I peek up at him, catching the subtle twitch of a muscle in his sharply defined jaw. He doesn’t look happy about being so tightly packed in the tiny stainless-steel box. Not that I can blame him, I’m starting to get a little claustrophobic myself. Elevators don’t typically bother me, but when they start to feel too confined, I get… antsy.

Thankfully, in a matter of minutes, people start to filter out, and by the time we reach the foyer, there are only half a dozen passengers. As the doors open, Roman’s palm lands briefly against the small of my back, the unexpected heat of it seeping through my blouse and sending my pulse skittering.

He drops it as soon as we’re out of the confined space and strides briskly ahead. I quicken my pace, doing my best to keep up with his. Fortunately, when he glances back and sees me lagging behind him, he slows so I can keep up.

“Thank you.” I smile up at him.

He slants me a look and gives me a terse nod before facing straight ahead again. I resist the increasingly familiar urge to roll my eyes. He’s as charming as ever.

Outside, a sleek black town car idles at the curb. When the man hovering next to it sees us coming, he opens the back door. “Good morning, Mr. King. Miss.” He smiles at me.

“Phillip, this is my new assistant. Miss Callahan.”

“Chloe,” I say, holding out my hand.

He shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Chloe.”

Roman’s low grumble interrupts. “Okay, that’s enough chitchat.”

Phillip gives me a wink and a mischievous grin as I slide into the back seat. Roman gets in next to me, his large form dominating the space, making the air inside the car feel a little short of oxygen.

I do my best to focus on why I’m here. “What’s your main goal for the meeting?”

He glances up from his phone. “At this stage, it’s an initial meeting to go over the proposed terms for contracting Haverscombe Industries to oversee the InnovaCore project.”

Recalling the concerns he mentioned earlier, I ask, “But you’re not sure?”

He nods slowly. “My father dealt with Haverscombe quite a bit. I want to meet with him face-to-face before signing anything.” His gaze lingers on my face, long enough to set off a flutter in my stomach.

I wet my lips, and Roman’s eyes flare briefly before his expression shutters. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive. Read up on our past contracts with Haverscombe before we get there.”

With a nod, I pull out my tablet. But the entire drive is a battle against distraction. Every time he shifts in his seat or his arm grazes mine, tiny prickles of electricity dance over my skin. I take a deep breath, hoping to center myself, but it backfires as my nose fills with the crisply masculine scent of his cologne. Exhaling slowly, I force my attention back to the information on my screen and away from how mouthwatering he smells.

By the time we arrive at the Haverscombe Industries office building, I’ve refocused. Roman stays close as we move through the hallways, his body angled just slightly behind mine in a way that feels… protective. Which doesn’t make sense. What reason would he have to feel protective of me?

Finally, we reach a glass-walled meeting room filled mostly with middle-aged men, and he ushers me inside. There are two empty seats side by side, so I sit in one and Roman takes the other.

As I settle in, placing my tablet on the table, I do my best to ignore the way several of the men are eyeing me. It’s the same way Geoff used to look at me. A sly kind of knowing look that is, unfortunately, far too common among men like these.

I shift in my seat, tucking my hair behind my ears.

Beside me, Roman makes a noise low in his throat. When I glance up, his jaw is set, and his sharp gaze moves deliberately from one man to the next. His expression all but screams don’t mess with me . I may have only worked for him for a few days, but I’ve never felt anything close to wary in his presence. The look he’s giving them now, though, would be enough to make anyone nervous.

The way they quickly shift their attention from me to him eases tension in my shoulders I didn’t even realize was there.

“Are you going to introduce us to the lovely lady, Roman?” the man seated opposite asks. If my research is correct, he’s Roger Haverscombe, the owner of the company.

“My assistant, Miss Callahan.” Roman’s clipped tone leaves no room for further questions.

“Nice to meet you… Miss Callahan.” Haverscombe’s oily smile dips toward my chest, sending an unpleasant shiver down my spine.

I pull my shoulders back. “You too, Mr. Haverscombe.” Despite the distaste crawling through me, I don’t look away. Roman needs an assistant who can hold her ground with men like this, so that’s exactly what I’ll do. If I could remain professional during the six months I dealt with Geoff’s wandering eyes and thinly veiled innuendos, I can certainly handle this.

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Roman says, a bite in his voice. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

For the next hour, the men debate terms and conditions for the proposed partnership. I do my best to keep up with the rapid back-and-forth, typing quickly and noting areas where Roman might want to investigate further before making a decision. This is definitely more intense than the meetings I attended in my previous position, and the numbers being thrown around are far beyond anything I’ve dealt with before. But I push aside thoughts of the astronomical amounts and rely on common sense, along with what I’ve read in the files, to discern what’s critical.

Finally, Roman clears his throat, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. “I think we have enough to make a decision,” he states. “I’ll discuss this with my COO, and we’ll get back to you early next week.”

Haverscombe frowns. “Your father would have made a decision on the spot.”

“My father and I do business very differently. You should be aware of that by now.” Roman stands, his eyes locking with mine. “Are you ready, Miss Callahan?”

I follow his lead, tucking my tablet into my bag. He holds out his arm, gesturing for me to go ahead. As I pass him, my shoulder brushes his chest, the contact enough to remind me of the firm muscles beneath his beautifully fitted suit.

Roger Haverscombe rises too, his expression tight with irritation. “I thought we’d reach an agreement today. You don’t strike me as the nervous sort.”

He’s obviously trying to provoke Roman, but my boss barely spares him a second look. “This isn’t the old boys’ club anymore. We’ll accept the partnership only if it benefits the King Group. If you have a problem with that, let me know now and save us all a lot of wasted time.”

Anger flashes in Roger’s eyes, but he quickly forces a smile. “Of course.” He steps forward, offering his hand to shake, and Roman accepts it.

Standing slightly behind them, I’m close enough to catch Roger’s words as he leans in.

“Looks like you’re not so different from your father after all.” He darts a glance my way, then adds with a wink. “Young and sweet. You’ll have to tell me where I can find an assistant like that.”

I stiffen at the insinuation, heat rising in my cheeks. Roman’s posture remains outwardly composed, but the wave of tension that rolls off him is impossible to miss. My breath catches. Roger, apparently oblivious to the danger he’s courting, keeps that slimy grin plastered across his face.

Roman leans in, looming over the shorter man while still gripping his hand. Roger’s smirk falters, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face at what must be a sudden increase in pressure.

“Nothing about me is the same as my father.” Roman’s voice is low and cutting. “If you think otherwise and you’re still happy to do business with me, it only makes me question this partnership.”

My heart pounds as the tension thickens, the two men locked in a silent standoff while Roger’s expression grows increasingly strained.

Dammit. What should I do? An irrational urge hits me—to place my hand on Roman’s back, to slide it over the taut line of his spine and ease the tension flowing through him. But not only would he hate it, it would be highly unprofessional, only lending weight to Roger’s insinuation.

Instead, I take a steadying breath and, keeping my voice calm, say, “Mr. King, if we don’t want to be late for your next meeting, we need to leave now.”

My words break the deadlock. Roger seizes the excuse to look away, and Roman releases his grip, stepping back. He acknowledges me with a brief nod before turning back to Roger. “We’ll be in touch.”

Roger’s tight jaw is the only visible sign of his anger. “Of course. We look forward to hearing from you. And”—his nostrils flare—“I apologize if I’ve offended anyone. Haverscombe Industries is, as always, eager to work with the King Group.” The last bit sounds a little forced.

Roman doesn’t bother to respond. He merely turns and gestures for me to lead the way out.

Our return to the car is silent. It’s only once we’re inside and on our way back to King Plaza that I speak up. “Should I schedule a session with Cole so you can discuss the meeting? I’ll have my notes typed up by this afternoon.”

He shifts his focus from the window to me. “No need. We won’t be proceeding with the deal. Set up a meeting with Wright Construction for next week. I think they’ll be a better fit for this project.”

I blink. “You’re not even going to discuss it with your brother?”

“I’m the CEO, Miss Callahan. I’ve determined that Haverscombe Industries isn’t the right company to partner with. Do you have a problem with that?” Despite his words, there’s no hard edge to his tone.

“Of course not, sir.” But worry eats at me anyway. Surely he won’t torpedo this deal just because of what Roger said. It’s not the first time I’ve heard those kinds of sly comments, particularly after Geoff Jr. took over at Talon. It’s an unfortunate truth, but a lot of the men who rise to the top at these kinds of companies seem to be misogynistic assholes. I don’t doubt that Roman has more integrity, but still, I would never have expected him to react the way he did to Roger’s suggestion. I’m torn between relief that he’s not the type of man to laugh it off and concern that my presence may have lost the King Group a good opportunity.

“What’s wrong?” His voice cuts through my thoughts. His head tilts slightly, his cool gaze drifting over my face.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

One dark brow twitches up. “The way you’re biting your lip says otherwise.”

Realizing my bottom lip is pinched between my teeth, I let it go, running the tip of my tongue over it to ease the sting.

Roman tracks the movement, pale gray eyes darkening to steel. “What’s bothering you, Miss Callahan?” he asks again.

The lower pitch of his voice makes my pulse stumble. God. Why does he have to be so attractive? I shouldn’t be having a physical reaction to the way my boss says my name.

There’s no point in continuing to deny my concern, so I straighten and force myself to hold his stare. “I’m worried that me being at the meeting today caused a problem.”

His expression remains inscrutable. “Why would you think that?”

I let out a breath, wishing he wouldn’t make me spell it out. “What Mr. Haverscombe said at the end seemed to upset you. And I’m worried that’s why you’ve decided against working with his company.”

“You’re not the problem. Roger Haverscombe is one of my father’s old cronies. I’d hoped he’d figured out by now that the way the King Group operates has changed over the last few years. But he just proved his behavior doesn’t align with what we expect from our partners.”

“Of course,” I murmur. I should have realized he’d have his own reasons for backing out that have nothing to do with me.

His lips tilt into that almost smile of his. “Do you think I’m the kind of man who’d tank a good deal solely to defend a woman’s honor?”

His tone, combined with the glint in his eyes, sends irritation prickling over my skin. “Do you think I’m the kind of woman who needs a man to defend her honor?”

“I think you’re the kind of woman who accepts less than she deserves.”

The words barely leave his mouth before his face shutters, as though he regrets saying them.

I should let it go, steer the conversation somewhere less personal. But the presumptuousness of his comment, along with curiosity about how he could possibly have formed that opinion, has me in its grip. “What would make you say that?”

He studies me for a long beat, his ever-present unreadable expression firmly in place. “You weren’t wrong when you said you could handle this job. So why didn’t you move on from the two-bit operation you were working for long before they laid you off?”

I blink at him, surprised by the response. “B-because it was a decent job. And stable. At least… it was.”

“And stability is important to you?”

“Isn’t it to everyone?”

He snorts. “Do you think the King Group got to the top by playing it safe? You have to take risks to achieve what you want.”

“Not everyone wants to be a billionaire,” I fire back.

He raises an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth twitching in what I think passes as amusement for him. “Maybe not. I’m sure most people would be happy with being a millionaire.”

His words set me off. Maybe because I’m still tense from the meeting with Haverscombe. Or maybe it’s the unnerving way my body reacts to his proximity. Either way, the temptation to argue with him is hard to resist. Obviously, I understand the importance of money. And god, yes, I wish I had enough to pay for the treatment Dad needs. But there’s so much more to life than just money. “Being rich isn’t everything. It doesn’t guarantee happiness.”

Surprisingly, his expression doesn’t change. If he’s annoyed that his assistant is arguing with him, he doesn’t show it. “Money gives you power and freedom. What else does anyone need?”

I shouldn’t continue pushing the issue, but something inside me balks at the idea of letting that pass. “How about love, family, good health?”

He huffs out a short laugh. “Only one of those things is a requirement for a successful life.”

I shake my head. “I’m talking about a happy life, not a successful life.”

“And are you happy, Miss Callahan?”

I press my lips together, suddenly wishing I hadn’t gone down this path with him. “I have all of those things,” I say stiffly. After all, my health isn’t the issue.

He studies me a little too intently. “That’s not what I asked.”

I’m saved from coming up with a reply when his phone rings. He answers it and, without a second glance at me, launches into a work-related conversation. From what I can gather, he’s speaking to one of his brothers.

With a sigh, I sink back into the plush leather of my seat and look out the window. What the hell has gotten into me? Not once in the three years that I worked at Talon did I have a conversation with either of the Geoffs where I basically criticized their life choices. It’s way beyond my job description. Doing it with Roman, a man who’s already proven he’s willing to let me go if I don’t live up to his expectations, is playing with fire.

I stare out the window. From now on I’ll remain polite and professional at all times. And I definitely won’t let my infuriating, gorgeous boss get me worked up again.