The Merger

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

C arys

I pop a piece of gum into my mouth and take in the hanging basket I just created. Pothos hang off the sides of the container, twisting and tangling in pretty waves. Four small plants were scattered around the building, and none of them were thriving. So I put them together—because even plants like friends—to create a fuller visual. Then I hung it in the reception area in front of the windows.

“I like it,” Nila says from behind the desk.

“Do you? I’m not sure if we now need another one for the other side of the room. Does it feel unbalanced in here?”

“No. Absolutely not. If anything, it’s a talking point. Everyone loves a good talking point.”

“Okay, true.” I nod. “I like it, too.”

“You can throw your trash in this box, and I’ll have maintenance come take it outside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.”

I smile at her and gather the plastic I spread on the floor to catch my mess.

Nila and I met on Friday when I was searching for a pair of scissors. She made an inappropriate joke that made me laugh, so I brought her a donut this morning as a token of my appreciation.

“Here you go,” I say, stuffing the plastic and two broken containers into the box. “Thank you for taking this.”

“Anytime.”

“I’ll see you Wednesday, maybe.”

She grins. “See you then. Thanks again for the donut.”

“Of course.”

I pick up my tray of utensils and disappear around the corner.

Gannon doesn’t bless the bottom level of the building with his presence often. There’s only one conference room—the smallest one—and the employee lunchroom. The rest of the floor consists of different departments comprised of a bunch of cubicles. Knowing Gannon isn’t going to walk around the corner and scare the shit out of me keeps my heart from racing too hard.

I take the less traveled back stairwell up to the fourth floor to put away my things.

I almost didn’t show up for work today. The thought of seeing Gannon after Friday night was nearly more than I could take. While I’m not embarrassed, really—because I meant every word that I think I said—I’m anxious. What if I said things I don’t remember? What if he walked away from my house on Saturday morning thinking I was some kind of freak? What if he has nothing to say to me, and that makes it even weirder?

If I’d heard from Margot or one of her contacts by this morning, I would’ve texted Tate and not shown up. But I didn’t.

I tiptoe down the hallway to the maintenance closet. I slip inside, ignoring the table where I sat and taunted Gannon only a few days ago, and place my tools in their containers. Before I turn back around, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Aurora.

Shit.

I heave a breath as regret fills me. I should’ve called to check on her.

Aurora: Hi, Carys. It’s Aurora. Your father’s birthday is next week, and I thought about making reservations downtown. I’d love for you to join us. No pressure.

I groan as I read her words.

Me: Hey! Thanks for the invite. I need to check my calendar when I get home. Also, how are you feeling?

I consider adding that I know I should’ve reached out to her after they left for Urgent Care but erase it before I hit send . There’s no sense in drawing attention to my failure and making it weird for both of us.

Aurora: Better. Thanks for asking. I just have some bruising but nothing serious.

Me: I’m glad to hear that.

Aurora: Let me know if you can make it next week. We’d really love to see you.

“I bet,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Me: I’ll try to make it work.

Aurora: Great! Talk soon.

I stare at our conversation long after it’s ended. How is a woman like her with a man like my dad? How was my mother with him? What’s the draw?

“Things I’ll never know,” I say, reaching for the door handle. I don’t quite make it before my phone rings. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I check the Caller ID. Brewer Group .

“Weird.” I accept the call. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Carys?” a woman asks.

“Yes.”

“Great. Hi, Carys. This is Kylie, Mr. Brewer’s assistant.”

I slump against the counter. “Hi, Kylie. What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Brewer wanted me to check and see if you’re still in the building.”

“I was just getting ready to leave.”

“Oh, okay. Well, he’d like you to stop by his office on your way out.”

I squeeze my eyes closed and stifle another groan. “Do you know if it can wait until Wednesday? I have another appointment to get to.”

“He thought that might be the case.” I bet he did . “He said to tell you there’s an ivy incident in his office. Apparently, it’s going to die if you don’t run up there and diagnose the problem.”

You’ve got to be joking. The fucker doesn’t even have an ivy. I sigh in frustration … but also with amusement. I can imagine Gannon concocting this storyline and feeding it to Kylie. It’s such a Gannon thing to do to get what he wants at all costs. But it’s also so un-Gannon-like. He doesn’t involve himself with such trivialness.

I grin. “Could you tell him that ivy plants are my least favorite, and I don’t care if it dies?”

There’s a lengthy pause.

“I really don’t want to do that, Carys.”

“I’m kidding.” I laugh at her hasty exhale. “I’ll be up there in a minute.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Bye.”

I end the call and blow out a breath.

My mind goes into overdrive, trying to determine why he wants to see me. The options are endless, really, and trying to predict what Gannon is doing or thinking is futile. Or why he waited all day to summon me. Or why he had Kylie call me and not do it himself.

“Damn you,” I mutter, pulling a compact out of my purse. I give myself a quick once-over, straightening my hair and applying a quick coat of gloss to my lips.

I shove my phone into my purse but pull it out when it buzzes immediately.

Mom: Did you get your life insurance form? It should’ve been emailed to you.

Me: I haven’t seen it yet.

Mom: Those bastards. I’m going to make some calls because no one we’ve signed up has gotten theirs.

Me: Okay, that’s great. I’m going into an important meeting, so I’ll check later this afternoon.

Mom: Let me know.

“I’ll be sure to do that.” I turn my phone off and stick it back into my purse. “Later.”

I grab my purse and gather myself before leaving the safety of the closet. The elevator is around the corner, and I get there far too quickly.

Breathe, Carys.

I punch the call button, and the doors swing open.

I’m whisked to the executive level in an instant, meaning I have no time to get my thoughts together. Not that I could get them together enough to make a difference. I had all weekend to do that and failed. Miserably .

“Hey!” Amanda says, smiling brightly. “How was your weekend?”

“Eventful.”

She laughs. “Kylie said you’d be up and to send you straight back to Mr. Brewer’s office.”

“Oh, yay.”

She snort-laughs. “Do I want to ask?”

“Yeah, you probably do, but don’t.”

I make a face at her and put one foot in front of the other down the long corridor.

“Okay, you did this, Carys,” I whisper to myself. “You were apparently Miss Thing Friday night. You have to own it now. If you go in there without confidence, he’s going to steamroll you, and all the effort you’ve put into not being dominated will go to waste.”

I blow out a breath and knock on the door.

“Come in,” he says immediately.

I open the door and nearly faint.

He’s sitting at his desk, rocked back in his chair with one ankle crossed over the other knee. He’s feathering his lips with a finger, not bothering to even try to hide his amusement. This filthy bastard.

“Better shut that,” he says, nodding toward the door.

I give him a look as I push it shut. “Better?”

“For now.” He grins mischievously. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. How about you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. But I wasn’t the one two sheets to the wind Friday night.”

Here we go …

“No, you weren’t.” I smirk. “But the set of blue balls you left my house with must’ve hurt, didn’t it?”

He lifts a brow in surprise but grins. “So you do remember at least some of the evening.”

“Of course, I remember. I was tipsy, Gannon. Not dead.” I sit on the corner of his desk just barely out of his reach. “Thank you for breakfast, by the way.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“The least you could do for what?” I hold his gaze and wink. “For turning me down?”

He narrows his eyes, trying to decide how to react to me. I know better than to give him enough time for that.

“That’s okay,” I say sweetly. “It was actually very kind of you not to fuck me senseless when I was drunk. You could’ve had your way with me, and I wouldn’t have stopped you. It takes quite a man to show such self-restraint.”

Gannon leans forward, his eyes blazing.

“I don’t know many men who would’ve stopped themselves,” I say breezily, standing again. “But maybe that just speaks to the kind of men I usually entertain. They’re usually jumping at the chance to fuck.”

“You’re a piece of work. Do you know that?”

“It’s been said.”

“Have you been avoiding me today?” he asks.

“Yes.” I nod.

“Why?”

I take a deep breath and move to the windows. The city is so peaceful from up here. It feels like you’re detached from the reality below. Unaffected. If only that were true.

“Why were you avoiding me?” he asks again.

“Because I didn’t know what to say.”

“Seems like you’re finding words pretty easily to me.”

His chair scratches against the hardwood behind me, the sound echoing through the office. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I sense Gannon’s proximity. I don’t dare look. I’m not going to turn around to see him. I’ll just wait him out and see what he says … or does.

As my heart pounds, anticipating his next move, it takes a conscious effort to breathe evenly.

Gannon brushes my hair off the back of my neck and tosses it over my shoulder. I tremble as his fingertips sweep across my shoulder. Every cell in my body is on fire, and I’m completely at his mercy.

He moves closer, barely skimming my back with his front. I think I’m going to come undone .

“You, Miss Johnson, talked a lot of shit on Friday night.”

I hum in agreement, keeping my focus on the flag rippling in the wind across the street.

“Do you remember all the things you said?” he asks softly.

“Not verbatim, but I have a pretty good idea.”

“How much of that did you mean?”

My mouth goes dry, and my chest shakes as I suck in a breath. I don’t know exactly what I said, and if I did, I’d probably be mortified. But I’m certain the gist of it was that I wanted to sleep with him. That still holds true.

“I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean,” I say. “So, if I said it, I meant it.”

He shifts behind me. “Turn around.”

My body moves on his command. My brain doesn’t have to order my feet to move because I simply swivel in a half circle until I’m eye to eye with the sexy bastard.

“Relationships are for the young and dumb,” he says, holding me hostage with a look.

“I agree.”

His pupils narrow. “I’m not interested in anything with labels or rules, and I won’t make promises or commitments.”

“Thank God.”

A grin ghosts his lips.

“I’ve told you before that all I want from a man is sex,” I say, trying not to squirm beneath his heated gaze. “I can get everything else I want and need myself. I just want a good fucking time.”

“You’re okay if Tate finds out?”

I lick my bottom lip and grin. “Gannon, I’m not fucking your brother. He doesn’t have to know everything that I do.”

He takes a step back, his eyes wild. One of his large hands combs through his hair as if he’s struggling to make a decision. A decision about me .

“Forget it,” I say, not interested in standing in front of him while he decides whether I’m worth the trouble or not.

I start to turn away when he grabs my arm and jerks me to him.

“ Fuck it ,” he hisses, capturing my lips with his.

He drags me into him until not a sheet of paper could fit between us. I shudder against him—at the contact, at the taste of his mouth, and the promise of more .

My knees wobble as he cups my face, and his fingertips burn into my skin. He parts my lips with his tongue as if he’s claiming ownership, and all I can do is tilt my chin and give him more access to take what he wants.

I grip his shoulders with both hands. The thick muscles flex against my palms as I dig my nails into his back.

The kiss grows more frantic— frenzied —and his lips move across mine without pause.

I gasp a breath, dizzied, running my hands down his hard pecs, abs, and to the waistband of his pants.

“ No ,” he says against my lips. The sound vibrates into my core. “Not here.”

I growl against his mouth. “I’m losing my fucking patience.”

He presses one last kiss to me, then pulls back.

Our breathing is ragged as we try to regain our composure, but after our eyes meet, smiles split our cheeks.

Oh my God. His smile.

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen on him. There’s no tightness, no mischief—no cocky remark on the tip of his tongue. He’s truly smiling at me for the first time, and it leaves me as breathless as our kiss.

His cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen. A sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead. He grabs at his collar and pulls it from his neck as he watches me.

“I don’t want to do this here.”

“Gannon—”

“You’re getting fucked tonight,” he says with a smirk over my objection. “But, please. I don’t want to do it here.”

There’s a faint plea embedded in the words that I can’t unhear. I also can’t deny it—or him. “Okay.”

He turns to his desk. “I have meetings until six. Can you be at my house at seven?”

“We’re scheduling sex now?”

He pauses and looks back at me. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” I say, grinning. “It’s actually the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

His shoulders fall. He shakes his head and picks up a pen and a piece of paper. A few scribbles are drawn on it before he hands it to me.

“That’s my address.” He tosses the pen on his desktop. “Seven works?”

“Seven works.” I back away toward the door. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

His chuckle is loud and unexpected.

I take that as a good sign and leave before he has the chance to do just that—change his mind.