Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rush
I’ve done some filthy things in my life. I’m not exactly a moral compass, but propositioning a single mother, who also happens to be my assistant, might be a new low.
She looked so fucking delectable in those yoga pants and tight little cropped T-shirt. Her face scrubbed free of make-up, Gigi is absolutely stunning, even more so than when she’s in the office.
There are some women who look great in makeup, but honestly, she looks better without it.
And then there is the fact that she’s so smart and competent, immediately seeing problems, searching for solutions.
And maybe my no-sex plan was a bad idea. Much as a female entanglement would be a distraction, I’m turning into an ogre in the office, yelling at everyone all the time, and now…
I look over my shoulder, a little girl in footed pajamas stares back at me, hugging a bear to her chest.
She’s the picture of Gigi. Big brown eyes, cute little button nose, and a mane of dark brown hair that’s pulled up in a ponytail.
She’s adorable. If kids were my thing. They’re not.
Gigi brushes past me, and crosses the room to the little girl, scooping her into her arms. “What are you doing out of bed, M&M?”
“I’m thirsty,” the little girl wraps her arms around her mother’s neck, her fingers disappearing in Gigi’s hair.
Fine. It’s cute the way her chubby little fingers massage her mother’s scalp.
“I should go,” I rumble, running my fingers through my hair again. This day has been a disaster. Vigo is winning, my brothers are circling, and I’m turning into my brother Killian. A human resource nightmare.
“Emma,” Gigi turns back to me, “This is my boss, Mr. Smith.”
“Rush,” I correct, automatically.
“That’s a funny name,” Emma’s brow furrows.
I smile, despite myself. “It is. You’re right. My real name is Rushton. Old family name, but my brothers call me Rush because, when I was young, I was always in a hurry.”
Emma’s head cocks to the side even as Gigi’s brows shoot up.
I don’t go soft and gooey for women with children. In fact, it’s always been a definite dealbreaker for me. But Gigi and Emma are beautiful together.
My eyes scan down them, my gaze landing on the swell of Gigi’s ass. She was made for yoga pants, or maybe all clothes look amazing on her.
But either way, I’m ogling the woman holding a child.
Turning, I start for the door. “I’m sorry I interrupted your evening.” And then I’m out her door, closing it behind me.
Fuck. That was bad.
But as I start down the hall, I realize it’s even worse than I thought. Because leaning against my door is my brother, Gris.
“What have you been doing, little brother?”
I show my teeth. When we were younger, we’d work off a fair bit of energy just fighting. I could use a few rounds in the ring tonight. “None of your business.”
“Au contraire,” he pushes off the door jam. “Late-night visits to your gorgeous assistant? This feels like my business.”
“It’s not even nine,” I bite back, the time hardly the issue. “And we were going over the city’s proposal, which has been artificially inflated by more than twenty percent.”
“Shit,” Gris looks serious. “And good catch.”
“We both know who did it and why. That fucker, Vigo, requires constant vigilance.”
“We could just have Killian take care of it,” Gris shrugs.
But that’s when Gigi’s door opens again.
I turn to look at her, every muscle in my body clenching. She steps out, Emma on her hip, my laptop in her hand. “You forgot this,” she softly murmurs.
Her feet are bare, her ponytail disheveled in the exact right way. Jesus. Even now, I want to kiss her. Her mouth is…decadent. Full, plush lips that felt like silk under mine.
My offer was the least professional thing I’ve done in a long time. I shouldn’t have hired her. I should transfer her to another department.
Because I definitely want to fuck her.
Her body pressed to mine so perfectly, that I can barely keep my cock in check in my trousers as I stare at her.
“Shit,” Gris murmurs behind me.
I ignore him and move back down the hall, taking the laptop from her hand. “Is that your brother?” Emma asks me, looking back and forth between me and Gris.
“That’s right.”
“What about him?” Emma asks, pointing down the hall as Killian emerges from the shadows.
“Yes. Him too.”
Killian has this way of arranging his features in such a way that he looks completely devoid of emotion. Honestly, lots of people think he’s a sociopath because of it.
But when he sees Emma, he breaks out a wide smile, all of his face softening. He’s dressed all in black, his preferred uniform. His trench coat is open, revealing his collared shirt, which is undone to reveal his massively inked chest.
But Emma doesn’t seem concerned at all. In fact, she smiles back and then wiggles out of Gigi’s arms.
She lets Emma go, who, once her feet hit the floor, starts running down the hall toward Killian.
In turn, he drops down into a squat. Emma stops in front of him, still hugging her bear. “What’s on your chest?”
“It’s like paint,” he answers. “But it doesn’t wash off.”
“Pretty.”
And then Killian does something I’ve never seen him do before, he reaches out and ruffles her hair, making Emma giggle.
“Thank you.”
“Is my back like that, Mama? Is it paint?” Emma asks, turning back to Gigi.
Gigi swallows, her face turning away. “No, M&M, your back is different.”
“M&M?” Killian asks. “That’s a great name.”
“I like Rush’s name,” she says, turning to smile at me. She might be the cutest kid I’ve ever seen. “I think it means fast.”
“How old is she?” I ask Gigi. She’s a peanut of a thing, but her words…
“She’ll be four in two weeks,” Gigi answers, before she reaches out to Emma, beckoning the child. “Time to go back to bed.”
Emma juts out her lip. “But I want to talk to my new friend.”
Gigi’s eyes widen, before she moves past me and quietly takes Emma’s hand. “Another time.”
Killian stands, towering over Gigi and Emma. “I’m Killian Smith.”
“This is my new assistant, Gigi Hope,” I say, coming to stand next to Gigi. If Gris is devoted to Arabella, Killian is completely and utterly pussy-whipped by his wife, Chloe.
But something about this little bonding session between Killian and Emma has me feeling possessive all over again. Without meaning to, my hand comes to that strip of bare skin on Gigi’s back. I glance back, the swell of her ass below my hand makes my cock rise in my trousers.
She gives me a quick side glance, before she scoops Emma up. “I’ll be up for a few more hours if there is anything else you need.”
I don’t respond outwardly. Inwardly, however, dirty thoughts of how I need to hear her scream my name make my cock even harder as she disappears into her apartment, the door closing behind her, the click of the lock echoing down the hall.
“Well,” Gris says as he stares at the door, “Ms. Hope is most definitely making an impression.”
I look over at him, my gaze narrowing.
“Seems nice,” Killian offers. “And her daughter might be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Are you all right, Killian?” I ask, actually concerned. Has he lost his mind?
“Chloe is pregnant,” he offers. “I think I’d like a little girl.”
“Shit,” Gris rumbles. “That’s huge.”
I let out a long-irritated breath. “If our bonding session is done, I’ve got seven more multi-page documents to comb through before I go to bed.”
“It’s not,” Gris says, gesturing for me to open my door. “We’d like a word.”
“About?”
“Ms. Hope.”
My shoulders stiffen. “She’s none of your business.”
“I disagree,” Gris gestures for me to open my door. “And what I have to say, you are most certainly going to want to hear.”
“I’m not sleeping with her, if that’s what you’re asking.” All three of us know that I want to be, though.
“With your attitude lately, I assumed you weren’t.” Gris glares at me.
“Grumpy,” Killian adds.
“Both of you can fuck off.” I lead the way into my apartment. It’s four times the size of the one that Gigi is in, with sweeping views, large open spaces, and amazing views of the city.
Not that I care.
I actually like Vegas. New York weather is too much like England. I came here for the opportunity, not the geography or the view.
“What is it you want to discuss about Gigi?”
Gris crosses to my kitchen, opening up my fridge, and pulling out a bottle of water. “How much time did you spend checking her references?”
Something nasty zips down my spine, as I confess, “Not much.”
Gris grimaces. “Every time I interact with her, I think, that she is the sweetest woman in the sexiest package that I have ever met. There is something so vulnerable and pleasing about her.”
My hand clenches. He’s not wrong, but those are my thoughts. I don’t want another man having them. “Point?”
“Maybe she’s supposed to be that way. Maybe that’s why she’s here.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, dropping my laptop on the table, wanting my hands free in case I need to punch my brother.
“None of her information checks out,” Killian takes over. “Not her name, her education. None of it.”
I turn to my brother, my teeth grinding together. “Say that again.”
“A Gigi Hope did not attend University of Chicago Law. Same for her undergrad and high school education. It’s all fake.” Gris grimaces as he looks down at the floor, allowing me to digest this information.
I scrub my hands down my face. “Did you notice the black eye?”
“I did,” Gris nods. “Which means, she’s here under a false identity for one of two reasons. She’s hiding, or she’s…” I already know what he’s going to say and all my muscles twitch in revolt. “Or she’s a mole.”
I close my eyes, my head leaning back. “You think I should fire her?”
“No.” It’s not Gris, but Killian. I open my eyes again, turning toward my brother.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he rolls his head, cracking his neck, “she came here injured and she’s got a child. I know that Gris is worried that this is all a ploy. But in my estimation, we give her the benefit of the doubt until we know otherwise.”
I give a stiff nod. His words make sense, and it’s become clear that he’s got a soft spot for women in need, and apparently small children. But Killian’s interest might be an asset here. “I know you’re here for Vigo, but can you do some reconnaissance on Ms. Hope?”
“Yes,” Killian jerks his chin in acceptance. “I’ll keep an eye on her, but you or Gris might be better able to convince her to open up and share.”
“Considering Ms. Hope’s attractiveness, and my wife’s jealous streak,” Gris eyes us both meaningfully, “I think I might have to keep my time with Ms. Hope limited.”
I rumble in frustration. It’s not that I wanted Gris flirting with her. I think it would make me crazy.
But I’m more of a direct predator, and so falsely charming a woman is less my skill set. Still, I think I might have a few weapons at my disposal. “I’ll learn the truth about Ms. Hope. I can promise you that.”