Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROMAN
T he discussion I’m having with Cole and Tate about EcoTech’s quarterly projections and how they’ll affect our acquisition bid is interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I call, already knowing who it will be.
Chloe steps in, carrying a bag full of takeout containers. The name of one of the restaurants that supplies us with lunches is printed on the side.
As she approaches, she gives me the perfectly polite, perfectly professional smile she always does. The one that’s begun to grate on me. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve started to wonder what it would be like if she gave me a genuine, full-fledged smile. One that would light up those too-pretty eyes of hers. And wondering what my assistant would look like if she smiled at me as if she were more than my assistant brings me dangerously close to a slippery slope I have no desire to slide down.
“Thanks, Chloe,” Tate says as she hands him a container. Cole echoes the sentiment when she passes the second over. When she reaches me, I take the box, my fingers brushing the tips of hers. “Thank you, Miss Callahan.”
“Is there anything else you need while I’m here?” she asks.
“That’s all. Feel free to take your lunch now.”
“Sophie should be about ready for hers too if you’re planning to meet up,” Tate says, earning himself a significantly brighter smile than I received.
I force my jaw to unclench. It doesn’t matter if she graces both of my brothers with more warmth than she gives me. How much she smiles and at whom has absolutely no bearing on her role as my assistant.
After she leaves, we dig into our food, and the room goes quiet.
Unfortunately, when Cole finally breaks the silence, he steers the conversation away from EcoTech. “How are things going with Chloe? I haven’t heard any complaints from you, so I assume she’s doing a good job.”
Chloe is the last thing I want to talk about. Shoulders knotting, I stab a fork into my lunch. “She’s doing fine.”
Tate chuckles, his golden-brown eyes creasing at the corners. “Don’t go overboard with the praise.”
“What’s with the whole, Miss Callahan, thing?” Cole interjects. “You never called Lena by her last name.”
I glare at them both. “Is the way I refer to my assistant really relevant to this discussion?”
Cole arches his brows. “Since we’re discussing her, then yes, I think it is.”
“We’re not discussing her, we’re discussing EcoTech.”
“Wrong.” Tate balls up his napkin and drops it into his takeout box. “We were discussing EcoTech, now we’re discussing Chloe.”
Pushing my own container away, I pin him with a glare. “We’re not discussing her. Cole asked a question, I answered it, and now we’re moving on.”
My brothers exchange a look, and I take a deep breath to stop myself from snapping at them. They’re not to blame for my irritable mood.
Roger Haverscombe is.
After our meeting the week before last, we met with Wright Construction and offered them the contract for the InnovaCore headquarters project. Haverscombe didn’t take the news well. Normally, I wouldn’t give a flying fuck what he thought, except he’d announced the very next day that his company would also be bidding to acquire EcoTech.
“Haverscombe doesn’t have the resources to match ours,” Tate says, correctly interpreting my bad mood. “There’s no way they’ll beat our bid.”
Cole frowns. “True. But they’re more than capable of driving up the price and forcing us to pay more than the company’s market worth.”
“I’d bet that’s exactly what his goal is.” I tap my pen on my desk. With men like Roger, it’s always personal—the old boys’ club at its worst. Before our meeting, I was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt, but then he went and proved himself to be the same kind of man as my father. That alone means I have no interest in doing business with him.
Renewed anger simmers hot in my stomach as his comment at the end of our meeting replays in my mind. The asshole blatantly suggested I was fucking Chloe—and he didn’t even have the decency to say it out of her earshot. As if he didn’t have the slightest doubt about who I was and who she was.
Surprisingly, it was anger on Chloe’s behalf that had burned through my veins first, even before my concern for how a rumor like that might affect me and the King Group.
I’m not used to thinking about other people’s feelings. Maybe I should have taken it as validation of my concerns and sent her on her way.
But I didn’t.
From the composed way she handled the situation, to the way she stood up to me in the car, her contradictions intrigue me a little too much. And if they intrigue me, they’ll be like catnip to other men.
She’s better off with me.
“Roman?” Cole’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
I jerk my head up. “Yes?”
My brothers are both watching me with furrowed brows.
Smoothing a hand down my tie, I clear my throat. “What did I miss?”
“It’s not like you to miss anything.” Cole surveys me, his expression full of a suspicious curiosity I don’t like. “Something on your mind?”
“Or someone?” Tate’s smirk speaks volumes.
“Unlike you two, I don’t let people distract me,” I snap. “The only thing on my mind is the EcoTech acquisition.”
Tate regards me, his lips pressed together. “We all understand the importance of this deal and its implications for the future of the King Group.”
“But?”
“There’s more to life than business.”
Annoyance flares. Why is everyone so interested in questioning my priorities lately? I chuckle dryly, masking my irritation. “Of course. There’s good food, good whiskey, maybe even good company.”
“You have to take a break, Roman.” Tate’s golden-brown eyes, usually so full of humor, are serious for once. “This drive to make us the best, to be the best, all the time. It’s not good for you.”
His words scrape against a nerve that’s still raw after all of these years. I don’t care about being the best, I only care about being better than Dad. But I don’t bother to tell them that. They’re too absorbed in their women to understand. They’ve drunk the Kool-Aid, believing that love is the answer to all life’s problems.
Only, love won’t remove Dad’s stain from our name and our company.
I love my brothers. Always have, even when I didn’t realize it—when our father loomed like a shadow between us, and we barely spoke. We might be united now, but I’ve never told them about Dad. They don’t know about the manipulation, about how it shaped me, or how it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth even now. And that’s how it will remain.
I plant my elbows on my knees and lean forward, my tone brooking no argument. “We need to get back to business.”
They share another one of those knowing looks that have become more frequent lately, but I ignore it like I always do. They can think whatever they want, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my priorities.
An hour later, we’re done. When I see Cole and Tate out of the office, Chloe is busy at her desk. She looks up as the three of us emerge, offering that same serene smile, a demure tilt of her pretty mouth.
I flash back to that moment after the meeting with Haverscombe, when she challenged me about the value of money, the way her cheeks flushed, and her expressive eyes turned more green than blue. I must be a masochist, because I prefer that response to the calm, professional demeanor she’s determined to present. Even though that’s what I told her I wanted.
As my brothers disappear down the hallway, Chloe studies me where I’m still lingering by the open door of my office, her head cocked and her pale blond hair cascading over one shoulder. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. King?”
My body tightens at the sound of those words coming from her soft pink lips, but I shut down the reaction fast. “Have you typed up the notes from the Wright meeting yet?”
“Yes. Do you want me to pull the file for you?”
“Bring it to my office please. We can go over my schedule for the rest of the week too.”
She picks up her tablet, and by the time she walks into my office, I’m back in my chair. Before I can help myself, my eyes trail down over her body, taking in her white silk blouse, hinting at lace beneath, and the navy skirt that hugs the curve of her hips, ending just above her knees.
She may not flaunt it, but she’s sexy as hell.
When I meet her gaze, her cheeks are tinted pink, making it clear she’s noticed my perusal. Rather than shy away after being caught, I steeple my fingers on my desk and maintain eye contact.
I shouldn’t do it, but as more color floods her cheeks, satisfaction surges through me. Damn it. Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I want to see her flustered again. I prefer that to the relentlessly polite mask she seems determined to maintain in my presence.
When she catches her lower lip between her teeth, I picture tugging it free with my thumb, then pressing my mouth to hers to find out what she tastes like.
“Here’s the file you wanted.” Her voice is a little huskier than usual as she leans over my desk to hand me the documents.
Her blouse gapes slightly, and I’m faced with a flash of creamy skin that sends a jolt directly to my dick. Gritting my teeth, I pull my attention away quickly. Already, I regret letting myself look at her in a way I definitely shouldn’t have. It makes it too easy to keep doing it.
Focusing on the file, I flick through it, nodding in satisfaction at the notes she’s made. “I’m happy with these. Make copies, and we’ll send everything down to Legal.”
Head lowered, she taps at her tablet. “Do you want to go over your schedule?”
I slide the file across the desk and sit back. “Yes, go ahead.”
“You have a video conference with the London office at—” Her voice cuts off, a small line forming between her brows as she stares at the screen.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
She looks up, concern shining in her eyes. “An urgent email just came through from InnovaCore regarding their headquarters at Hudson Yards. They’ve sent us a revised tenancy proposal with significant changes to the lease terms.”
Irritation grips the back of my neck, and I rock forward on my chair. “The final negotiation meeting is tomorrow. What are they asking for this late in the process?”
Eyes narrowed in concentration, she scans her tablet. “They want upgrades to the HVAC system to achieve even higher energy efficiency, rooftop solar installations, and for us to fund a joint innovation hub on-site. It would showcase sustainable urban technologies and serve as a model for future developments. They’re saying it will generate considerable attention from the public and the media.”
My annoyance spikes, and I exhale harshly. “Why now?”
“Their board approved a new corporate sustainability directive last week,” she reads from the email. “It mandates substantial upgrades in their operational infrastructure to align with newer, stricter environmental goals.”
I scrub my hand over my mouth, curbing my frustration. It’s tempting to tell them to go to hell. They’re well aware this will cause major logistical issues, and they didn’t bother to give us a heads-up before the directive was finalized.
Still, it’s not an impossible challenge. Especially now that we’re solidifying our partnership with Wright Construction for the build.
“What are we going to do?” Chloe asks.
Even through my irritation, I like how she uses the word we . “InnovaCore is one of our largest tenants at Hudson Yards,” I say, talking her through my thoughts. “They’re leveraging our development of their HQ building to boost their green credentials. But their brand alignment with our sustainability goals is too valuable to ignore, even if their timing pisses me off.”
“Would it help if I compile the current specs and proposed changes into one document? It should make it easier to identify which requests can be accommodated and where we’ll need to push back.”
I nod slowly. That’ll help, but we’ll need to revise our proposal before tomorrow’s meeting. Drumming my fingers on my desk, I say, “Fine. We’re going to need a counterproposal. Which means you and I will have a late night tonight.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Does the idea of working late with me make her nervous?
If so, she hides it well. “Should I let the legal team know that they need to be on standby for consultations?”
Damn. She’s quick. “Yes, do that. And make sure we have all related documents and previous correspondence with InnovaCore available for reference.”
“Of course.” She takes a deep breath, pulling herself up straighter. “Is there anything else?”
“That’s it. Be back here after my last meeting of the day. We’ll order dinner and stay until the counterproposal is done.”
“Yes, sir.” Standing, she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then heads for the door. Once again, my eyes track her without my permission, drawn to the sway of her heart-shaped ass as she walks.
My blood heats and my dick swells before I force myself to look away. Staring at her ass is bad enough, imagining how the curve of it might feel under my hand? How soft her skin would be to touch? Fuck.
I scrub my hand over my face.
At this point, I should be used to having her around. I should be immune to her pretty eyes and her lush pink lips and the subtle honey and vanilla scent that always lingers in my office after she leaves.
Instead, my awareness of her just keeps growing.
Maybe I need to hit the gym, blow off some steam. Or get laid. It’s been too damn long.
I’ll have to remedy that soon. But tonight, Miss Callahan— Chloe —and I have work to do.