Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
Saff
“I’m just saying, when did you become Mr. Manners?” I grumbled as Bastian and I walked into the elevator. The kind that didn’t stop at all the floors—just soared right up to the top. Because heaven forbid King Vale brush shoulders with the common folk.
“Men are supposed to open the doors. That’s not even an obscure one, babe.”
“I can open my own doors.”
“You can. But a woman of your stature,” he said with a quick glance up and down my short body, “in the world, I mean, wouldn’t open her own door when she has employees right there to do it for her.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, accepting that maybe Bass did know more about this sort of thing. I mean, what did I know about manners? I’d been traded like a game of hot potato from one foster home to the next, barely staying long enough to know where the extra toilet paper was stored, let alone which side the forks and knives went on. Once I got sick of that life, I skipped my way out of the system. And, yeah, there were no manners when you’re living on the street. Especially as a young girl.
“Babe, just relax,” Bass said as I shook my hands, feeling like they were buzzing.
“Easy for you to say. You’re just the assistant. I have to come off as some big-shot businesswoman. I don’t even know what a ‘portfolio’ is, let alone how to get one.”
“Luckily, he’s only going to be asking you about the club, about your vision for it. That sort of thing.”
We couldn’t say anything else as the elevator doors slid open to a swanky little waiting room.
It was all dark wood floors, gray walls, and light gray couches sitting parallel a few feet in front of a long glass-walled conference room.
How did they get a table that big up here?
I followed behind Bass as he went over toward the reception desk to greet the pretty middle-aged woman, introducing himself—though he now had a made-up last name—and me.
I went to offer my hand. That custom, at least, I was familiar with.
But Bass pushed my hand back down.
The woman—Teresa—led us toward the conference room.
And it was only then that my gaze swept across the table to find the man standing at the head of it.
My step faltered.
This was Soren Vale?
This six-four, fit god decked out in a designer suit?
I mean, even if someone warned me that he was a man in his prime, I never could have conjured up the image of the man standing before me.
He was stupidly handsome.
With an emphasis on stupid .
What god would put all that good-looking into one man?
He could have just been tall and fit. But, no. No, he had a face sculpted by the greats—all perfect angles to make him both classically handsome but also darkly mysterious—yes, darkly. On top of that, he had a neatly shaped beard that looked (A) clean and (B) moisturized and soft. And to round it all out, he had gooey chocolate brown eyes, great lashes, stern brows, and dark brown hair that was kept long enough that it curled just above the collar of his shirt.
My panties were practically begging me to take them off and climb him like a tree.
If it weren’t for his cool, calm demeanor, I might have dropped character.
But when his hand clasped mine—so big it made my hand look like a doll’s—I swear I felt this sizzle shooting up my arm and across my chest, wrapping around my heart and squeezing.
Whatever the hell that was about.
So when my voice came out clear and collected, I was proud of my preparation that made that possible.
“Indeed, I do,” Soren Vale said, hand still holding mine.
Until Teresa interrupted the moment—and the eye contact that made me feel stripped bare, body and soul—to ask if any of us wanted coffee.
“That would be great,” I said, turning to give her a polite smile. “Cream and sugar, if you have it. Bastian,” I called, making him look up. “I’m sure Teresa would appreciate your assistance.”
His eyes narrowed at me for just a second before he shut his face down, gave me a nod and a ‘Yes, ma’am,’ and moved out of the room.
Maybe I should have felt guilty for sending him away. But I was going to have a harder time trying to keep my wits about me with Bass standing there, silently judging everything I said or did.
“Would you sit?” Soren asked, waving toward the seat directly to his side.
I nodded, trying not to trip on my stupid stilettos as I pulled out the chair and sat down.
Only when I was seated did Soren do that stupid undoing his coat button thing that shouldn’t have been so sexy, but somehow was, then take his own seat.
“I see you already have the blueprints,” I said, spying the hint of blue peeping out of the folder in front of him.
“I do. And I have to admit, it’s the perfect property for a nightclub.”
“I have my concerns about the staircases,” I told him. “I can’t imagine heavily intoxicated people—some wobbling in their heels—and steep staircases are a good idea.”
“The liability would be high, yes. But I didn’t intend to have the balcony open to the general public.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“A VIP section open only to private parties or drop-ins from celebrities who would prefer to party in private.”
“Wouldn’t that only increase the liability? Celebrities equals money equals great lawyers.”
“Not if there is a private elevator installed here,” Soren said, producing the blueprints and pointing to a spot just stage left. “That would exit right into the small alley between buildings, which exits—if I am not mistaken—here,” he said. His finger traced along the blueprint. I was supposed to be looking at the alley. All I could do was look at that finger, thinking of it tracing down the column of my neck, over my clavicle, down between my breasts, under the swells, up to circle my nipples…
A shiver racked my system at just the thought.
“Miss Amato?” Soren called.
“Yes,” I said, my voice breathy. I cleared my throat. “Yes, that’s correct. It’s a long, narrow alley that could use some cleaning up, if we are expecting celebrities to be willing to walk there, but it leads to a back road, where a car could be waiting.”
“Miss Amato,” Bastian said, appearing at my side with a large mug of coffee. It was the perfect cup: lightweight fine china, a solid sixteen ounces, with a wide, square handle.
“This is nice,” I said before I could keep the thought inside. “It’d be nicer with some sort of detail on it, though.” God, what was wrong with me? What successful businesswoman would comment on something as simple as a coffee mug?
“Mr. Vale makes me order cases of them,” Teresa explained, warm and familiar, like I was a friend, not a complete stranger. “Claims he spent years trying to find the right mug, and he doesn’t want to run out in case any of them get a chip. If you need us, we will be one buzz away,” she went on, touching Bastian’s arm to usher him out of the room.
“Oh, my God,” I groaned at my first sip. I immediately regretted it. Until I saw a flame lick in Soren’s dark eyes.
“I also import the coffee. Teresa has things to say about that as well.”
“You can’t play around about coffee,” I said. “And the right mug is hard to find. My cabinets are full of ones that are either too small or too heavy when you put liquid in them.” Realizing I was rambling, I looked back at the blueprints. “Anyway, yes, I think that would work out nicely. If you can get the permits for an elevator.”
“You can leave that part to me. I have a long history of getting things like that approved. I would like to see the area in person first, to make sure my vision is feasible.”
“Of course. I’ll warn you that it’s rough right now. Lots of graffiti and the skittering of rats.”
“It’s New York. I’m not afraid of rats. Would Monday work for you? That way, we can see if we can move forward with the paperwork?”
“Monday works for me.”
“You don’t need to consult your schedule?”
Damn.
A woman of my “stature”—as Bastian put it—would likely have days booked out weeks in advance.
“I leave Mondays open for any potential problems that might pop up over the weekend.”
That lie came out so smoothly that I mentally patted myself on the back for it.
“Would you like to meet at your office?”
At my nonexistent office? Yeah, no.
“We can meet at the building,” I said, reaching for my mug to take another long sip. It seemed like our meeting was going to be short, and I didn’t want to waste a drip of his insanely rich coffee. “Is there chocolate in this?” I asked, unable to help myself.
“Just a touch,” he said, his smile making his eyes go just a bit more gooey. “No one’s ever noticed that before.”
“Coffee and chocolate are my two favorite food groups.”
“Good to know,” Soren said. If I wasn’t just imagining it, I could have sworn his gaze slipped to my lips before landing on my eyes again. “What time works best for you?”
“Time for what?” I asked dumbly, unable to hear past the whooshing of my blood in my ears, to think past the distracting pounding of my pulse in my chest, neck, wrists… and somewhere else entirely.
“To tour the building,” Soren said, eyes and smile saying he knew exactly what was wrong with me.
Dammit.
I had to get a grip.
I couldn’t screw this up.
What could I say to Renzo? Sorry, Renz, but the guy was stupidly sexy and I couldn’t think straight around him?
“Right. Would one in the afternoon work for you?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you need to consult your calendar?” I asked, throwing his words back at him.
“I’ll have Teresa clear it.”
We were talking about a business deal.
But everything about the intense eye contact and the way our mouths were wrapping themselves around the words suggested that we were setting up a rendezvous. Clothing optional. If not completely unnecessary.
I had to get control over my hormones.
It wasn’t like me to go so gaga over a man.
I mean, unless we were talking about some tall, dark, and deadly fictional hero who talked in clipped three-word sentences and had a tragic backstory.
I never lost my train of thought because some attractive guy was sitting two feet away. Not even if I could smell their rich tobacco and leather cologne.
“Miss Amato?”
It was the little smirk toying with the edges of his lips that finally snapped me out of it.
My spine went ramrod straight as I put the mug down with a soft click. “Yes?” Damn, that one word even came out icy. I was really channeling that businesswoman from that book I’d read. Though we would absolutely, under no circumstances, be banging on the conference table like the book. No matter how much my sex was aching for it.
“Are we set?”
“Yes, of course,” I said, getting to my feet a little too quickly. The chair started to fly back. But Soren was faster, his arm shooting out to grab the back of it, stopping it from potentially slamming into the glass wall and shattering it.
I would have normally commented on his reflexes. I was easily impressed by things like that. But since that was something I would normally say, my lips stayed shut.
“I’ll see you then,” I said, nodding.
“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” he said, buttoning that damn button again. Which a strong, collected, successful, unaffected businesswoman would not have noticed, so I forced my gaze away.
“All set?” Teresa asked as we moved out of the conference room.
Bass rose from one of the couches, setting a magazine down on the coffee table.
“I’m going to need my calendar cleared for Monday,” Soren told her.
”You have that important—” Teresa started.
Soren cut her off. “I don’t care. Clear it.” His tone both brooked no argument, but was also somehow respectful. Which, again, was frustratingly sexy.
“Of course,” Teresa said, nodding.
“Miss Amato,” Soren said, reaching around behind my back, his arm grazing me in the process, so he could push the elevator button. “I am looking forward to working with you.” His words were said close to my neck, his breath teasing across my skin, making a shudder move through me. Luckily, only on the inside.
Thankfully, the elevator doors slid open just then, allowing me to move inside and put some much-needed distance between us.
“Of course,” I said, not even knowing if it was the appropriate response. It didn’t matter. Bass was beside me and the doors were closing.
But Soren’s gaze was on me until the doors blocked me from view.
I sank back against the wall of the elevator, letting out a shaky breath.
“Want to stop and wring out your panties now, or are you gonna wait until you get home?” Bass asked, shooting me a knowing grin.
“Shut up,” I said, whacking him across the chest.
“You looked like you were ready to strip naked right there in the glass room and offer yourself up as a gift of purchase.”
“What part of ‘shut up’ don’t you get?” I grumbled as we moved out into the lobby. “Nothing like that happened. You’re clearly seeing what you want to see. Maybe you want to fuck Soren.”
“It’s Soren now, is it?”
“That is his name.”
“Indeed it is, Miss Amato ,” he said pointedly.
“I’m taking Serano with me Monday, not you.” At least I could count on him to keep his opinions to himself. The man rarely spoke.
“You already established me as your assistant, I’m afraid. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Somehow I doubt Teresa is going to be there Monday. So I think you should be back at ‘the office’ too.”
“Yeah, speaking of that. I was texting Renzo—”
“Behind my back?”
“Down, tiger,” Bass said, holding his hands up, palms out. “I’m working this job too.”
“If you put some asinine ideas in his head about—”
“Relax. I want this to go well just as much as you do. More, since I don’t have the respect in the family yet that you do. We weren’t even talking about you. Not directly.”
“What were you talking about then?”
“That we need to rent you an office somewhere. There might be a situation where Vale wants to see you at your office. We need somewhere to take him.”
“Right,” I agreed. “Well, I guess I can trust you to handle that.”
“Your faith in me,” he said, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest as we finally saw Serano pulling up out front of the building, “is touching. Truly.”
“Just make sure it’s fully functional, even if we don’t use any of it. Printers, paper, coffee machines, mugs, everything.”
“Yeah, I got it,” Bass said as we slid into the car. “I’ll go get that sorted today. You need to go get… freshened up,” he said, shooting me a smirk over his shoulder.
“Shut it.”
I glanced over at Serano, but he didn’t even seem to be paying us any attention.
But, damn Bastian, he wasn’t wrong.
And I had the weekend to try to build some defenses against Soren Vale.
I had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be long enough.