Chapter 4
FOUR
LUCIEN
The office hums around me. Ringing phones, murmured conversations, the steady rhythm of keyboards, but my attention keeps drifting to the woman sitting just outside my door. My damn PA, who shouldn’t be getting my attention at all. Not unless it’s work related.
She has been here a week, and already she’s in my head more than she should be.
Her posture is perfect, shoulders straight, head bent over her laptop, dark hair sliding forward as she writes. Quiet. Efficient. Focused. Exactly what I want in an assistant.
And distracting as hell.
I tell myself it will pass. It always does. I don’t sleep with my staff. I don’t mix business with pleasure. Especially not with my accountant’s cousin. But none of that stops me from noticing her or thinking how her hair would feel fisted in my hands while I guided her…
I shake the thought aside and return to reviewing a contract when raised voices spill from the reception area.
“Mr. Moretti said my payment would be processed last week,” a man snaps. “You tell him if he thinks he can screw me over, he’s got another thing coming.”
I glance up, already bracing myself to intervene, when Briar steps into the line of fire. Calm. Steady. Not a trace of panic on her face.
“I understand you’re frustrated,” she says evenly, standing between the man and my office door. “But threatening our staff and Mr. Moretti’s receptionist won’t make the payment process any faster. If you’d like, I can confirm with accounts where things stand and get back to you this afternoon.”
The man glares at her, his jaw flexing. He is taller than her, broader too, and most people would back off under the weight of that stare. Briar doesn’t even blink.
“You tell Moretti I don’t wait,” he growls.
“I’ll tell Mr. Moretti you came by,” she replies, voice calm but firm. “And I’ll also tell him you handled this situation professionally and not emotionally charged.”
I grin at her underhanded backhand. There is a beat of silence. Then the man huffs out a sharp breath, mutters something under his breath, and stalks toward the elevators. Briar waits until the doors close before exhaling quietly and returning to her desk like nothing happened.
I watch her for a long moment.
She did not flinch.
Most men twice her size would have.
Something low and sharp twists in my gut.
It’s almost as if she is used to violence.
Or men shouting in her face. I grind my jaw, not liking the thought of that at all.
Not for anyone. Her composure reminds me of the men I used to face down across warehouse floors—guns drawn, threats tossed like currency.
No shaking hands. No fear. Just cold, deadly focus.
It’s unsettling how easily the memory creeps in.
Anthony appears in the doorway a minute later. “You want me to toss him next time?”
“No,” I say, reading the email Briar sent me regarding the interaction and that the issue has been sorted by accounts. “She handled it.”
Anthony looks to where Briar sits, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he comes to sit in the chair across from my desk. “Didn’t expect that from her.”
Neither did I. “She’s not what I thought,” I admit under my breath, more to myself than to him. I like a strong woman, someone who stands up for herself, and it would seem Briar is one of those. My earlier assumption of her character was off.
Anthony cracks his neck but doesn’t comment. “Romero and one of his men were spotted not far from here. Having lunch in Pen’s Café. Odd, don’t you think? Why would he be in Manhattan or so close to Moretti Global? Something’s up with him, I’m certain of it.”
I drag my attention back to him, forcing my expression into steel.
“He shouldn’t have an interest. I’ve had nothing to do with my father’s business acquisitions for many years.
Everything we do here is legitimate. There is no reason for them to be sniffing around unless they are after something or some kind of outcome. ” I pause. “Look into it?”
“I will,” he says. “They’re circling, Lucien. Testing boundaries, maybe seeing how far they can push you before you snap.”
“Then keep them away. I’m not in that business anymore. I won’t jeopardize my employees’ welfare or our family’s position. Not for a thug.” My voice comes out flat, leaving no room for argument.
Staying clean isn’t easy. The world I grew up in doesn’t let go, not really.
Some nights I still hear the echo of metal smashing against concrete, smell the gunpowder and river water that coated my hands when I did the jobs no one else wanted.
I walked away from all of it—but walking away doesn’t erase blood.
Anthony nods once, then disappears as silently as he came.
But my thoughts don’t follow him. They stay fixed on my laptop and the massive amount of work I must do before the end of the day, yet the image of Briar standing her ground is burned into my mind.
Later, I message her to come to my office to go over a shipment contract. She steps inside, notebook in hand, as composed as ever, though I catch the faintest flush in her cheeks when our eyes meet.
“You cross-checked the Capstone figures?” I ask.
“Yes.” She slides the notes across my desk. “The discrepancies were on their end, but I flagged them so there’s no confusion later.”
I skim the page and glance up. “You handled the supplier earlier without escalating it.”
She nods, and for the first time since she started here, her eyes cloud with resignation. “I’ve dealt with worse,” she says softly, almost offhand, and lowers her eyes to her notebook.
Worse!
The word sticks, heavy and deliberate in my mind, pulling at threads I don’t like tugging on. A raw and unguarded part of me that isn’t easily calmed, a part of me from the past I’m determined to keep locked away where it belongs.
The part of me trained to put men like that on their knees and make sure they never threatened anyone again. The part I promised would never see daylight once I buried my father.
The part of me that seeks revenge and will stop at nothing until I’ve achieved it.
“Good work,” I say finally. My voice is rougher than I intend, so I clear my throat and add, “Keep it up.”
She nods, gathers her papers, and leaves, the scent of her perfume lingering faintly in the air. God, she smells good. Like spring when you catch it in the breeze, fresh and sweet.
I stare after her, jaw tight, fingers drumming against the desk.
Off-limits. I remind myself of it again and again, like repetition will make it true. I will not touch her. I will not think about bending her over my desk and taking her until we both fall apart. My cock hardens, my balls ache. I’m a fucking creep thinking of her that way.
She is my PA. I shouldn’t be thinking of her at all.
But my name, a scream on her lips, would be bliss.
By the time the office quiets, the sun sinking low over the skyline, my restraint feels thinner than it has in years. She is not like the others. I cannot decide if that makes her less dangerous to me or more.
More, I decide.
A drink tonight at the Ironwood is a must.
I lean back in my chair, thinking about Romero. It’s strange he is showing himself again. He has kept out of my way for years, probably mainly due to being in and out of jail. Even so, his reappearance on my radar is telling. Stranger still that it coincides with Briar’s arrival.
Security has shown there is no connection there, but is that correct? I did not survive being the son of Leo Moretti without developing a healthy mistrust of coincidences. Something tells me I’m not being told the whole truth.
I call Anthony on my cell. “Do another check on Briar Locke. I’m following a hunch that we’ve missed something. Make sure to include Romero in the search. I think there may be a connection.”
“I checked already.”
“I know. Check again.”
I hang up without waiting for a response.
I’m missing something, but I will find out what it is and deal with it.
Either Briar is clean…
Or she is a problem I’ll have to handle.