Chapter 10
WORTH
I’m so screwed.
Mya’s scent still clings to my office, sweet and maddening, and I find myself inhaling the air like some pathetic hound searching for its master.
My cock twitches against my slacks, straining, and I glare down at the traitor.
Ridiculous. I should be satisfied. Hell, I just emptied myself into Shaina’s overinflated mouth ten minutes ago. But that release did nothing to quiet the pull I feel towards my new employee.
For fuck’s sake.
When she was right in front of me, I managed to mask the hitch in my breathing, the way my fingers dug into my mouse, hard enough to ache. Pretending not to notice the bare skin and curve of her legs when she crossed them. Pretending not to want.
Griffin is a dead man walking.
There was no reason for him to march her straight into my office. He could’ve taken her anywhere. Andrée, the boardroom—the goddamn break room. No, he wanted me rattled and off-balance.
Well, congratulations, Hayes. It worked.
Scowling, I reach for my phone, thumb hovering over the screen.
I ought to strangle you with my bare hands.
Henson:
What? Why? What did I do?
Not you, dumbass. But the fact that you immediately think you’re the culprit is concerning.
Henson:
I plead the fifth.
Griffin:
It was a test.
Test what exactly? How many lives you have? Because you’re about to lose one.
Henson:
Whoa. What did I miss, brethren?
Griffin thought it was a good idea to parade one of the new hires in my office.
Henson:
Why? Is she hot?
Griffin:
Yes.
Shut up, Griff.
Henson:
Oh… sensitive…
I better not hear from either of you for the rest of the day.
Henson:
Griff, I’m calling you for the scoop.
Griffin:
I’m ready.
Worth, it was a test to see how you’d react to her at the office. From what I saw, you passed, so why are you all pissy?
I don’t want to be part of your stupid tests.
Henson:
Who is this girl?
Griffin:
Worth’s next ex-wife.
Henson:
Lol. I can already tell that you fucked up, Worth.
Griffin:
If what you told me this morning is true, then you have nothing to worry about. Her presence shouldn’t affect you, right?
Right.
I’m trying to convince myself as much as him.
And that’s what I need to remember. If I let her get under my skin, Mya Dessen-Jones could dismantle every piece of the perfectly curated life I’ve built for myself.
It’s after lunch, and I haven’t caught another glimpse of Mya since she sat in my office this morning.
Griff ended up running his mouth to Henson about my so-called “dilemma” and, sure enough, my brother called me demanding why I hadn’t told him about her earlier.
I argued there was nothing to tell, I wasn’t planning on hiring her.
But in my almost-drunken lapse last night, I offered her the job anyway.
Henson let me off the hook faster than I expected, though not without giving me the same look Griffin had, also reminding me to “be careful.”
I’m a grown man. I don’t need anyone telling me how to conduct myself.
On my daily rounds through the office, I pass the glass-walled boardroom. The new hires have been corralled in there all morning, learning about W.H.M. Construction, the firm’s structure, and the projects on deck. Soon they’ll be split into teams and given their first assignments.
A sudden motion catches my eye. Curly brown hair, tilting towards the window.
Mya turns her head at the exact moment I pass, and for a split second our gazes collide. Hers darts away immediately, but mine lingers.
I shouldn’t want to affect her. But hell if I’m not glad I do.
At least I’m not the only one who feels the pull.
I’ve had more women than I can count, but something about Mya… She’s not like anyone I’ve entertained before. There’s a grit beneath her nerves, something bright that makes her hard to ignore.
Not that it matters. Nothing can ever happen between us.
Even though my cock begs otherwise.
At three o’clock, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I fish it out, glance at the caller ID, and answer on the second ring.
“Hey, Piglet.”
“Hi, Dad. I just got home.”
“Great. Is Maggie on her way?” I lean back in my chair, tugging at the knot of my tie, loosening it just enough to breathe.
“Yup! She’s bringing dinner from home this time.”
“Alright. Don’t forget to do your homework, Squirt.”
Brianna stifles a laugh. “Why do you call me ridiculous names?”
“Because why not?”
I can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone, and it makes the corner of my mouth twitch despite the stress knotted between my shoulders.
Still, a thought nags at me. The fear that the more my daughter grows, the more she’ll slip away.
Ever since she “became a woman” last week, I realized there are parts of her life I won’t be able to reach.
Parts I can’t help with. That distance scares the hell out of me.
Maggie does what she can—and I’m grateful—but it doesn’t fill the hole her mother left behind.
My hand drags down my face, my jaw tightening.
“I’m almost fourteen, Dad. Nicknames are for kids,” Brianna argues, exasperated.
“You are a kid, and you’ll always be my little girl. You could be married with children and I’d still call you Piglet.”
She groans, but I can hear the smile she’s trying to hide. “I don’t think my future husband would understand that.”
The thought of Brianna with a husband—or worse, some hormonal boy sniffing around her—twists my gut. “Well, fuck him. Stay single forever and live with me.”
Her loud laugh bursts through the speaker, and I swear it’s the best sound in the world. “Dad! First of all, language. Second, that sounds crazy. What if you find someone?”
“I won’t, kiddo. It’s just you and me.”