Two
ANGELO
“ A re you ready, sir?” Calliope asked.
Angelo checked himself in the mirror one last time, making sure his suit was immaculate, before nodding at his father’s assistant.
Well, my assistant now.
“Let’s do this,” he turned to look at the young woman, signaling for her to walk ahead of him.
They headed to his car, Angelo opening Calliope’s door for her before tipping his head in thanks to the driver. He slid a twenty into the man’s palm, a little trick of his father: “Always tip the man before he does his job. Makes him more inclined to do it correctly.”
It had been two month since he flew in from Athens to find out his father was stepping down. Sixty full days since he was officially appointed CEO of Taylor Co. And today, he was having his first big business meeting—with his rival, Lockwood Inc.
He had managed the Athens branch of Taylor Co., in control, just as he liked it. But then he got the call. His father, William Taylor, had taught him everything he knew. He just didn’t think he’d be using it so soon or taking over his position, controlling the entire corporation and all its branches, at the age of thirty-two.
So, he was nervous.
I’m screwed .
Forty minutes later, they arrived at Lockwood Inc. Angelo scoffed at the obscenely luxurious exterior of the building.
It looked as if it were made of glass, reflecting the moody Seattle sky like a giant mirror. He half-expected to see a red carpet leading up to the entrance, complete with paparazzi snapping photos and a butler handing out champagne. The place screamed, “We have more money than taste,” and Angelo couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the over-the-top opulence.
He had never met Oliver Lockwood, but his father had a lot to say about the man. They had much in common, but their differences were massive. Both had built their conglomerates from the ground up and their success was nearly unparalleled. But that was all they shared. The CEO of Lockwood Inc.was a notoriously cruel man with little regard for his employees.
Angelo’s father was an excellent boss, both understanding and skilled at making money. He genuinely cared for his employees and made sure their working environment was welcoming.
The driver opened the door, smiling at Angelo with a look that silently begged for another tip and Angelo nodded politely, handing him another bill. He headed for the luxurious building, well aware of the fact the driver would be disappointed at the five dollars in his hand.
Can’t just give you twenties every time, can I?
Angelo once again opened Calliope’s door, allowing her to exit the car and they ventured into enemy territory as a united front. A tall woman with an impeccable sense of style and blonde hair in a very, very tight bun welcomed Angelo and Calliope as they approached the reception.
“Name,” the woman demanded in an annoyingly nasal voice, with a look that usually translated to “Why am I even here?”
Maybe she should loosen up that bun a little.
“Angelo Taylor,” he replied before adding, “And this is my assistant, Calliope.”
I can be a little bitch too, bunny.
Angelo nearly snickered at the pun he just made up in his head. It was so bad it could have earned him a groan from even the cheesiest dad joke aficionado. The bunny visibly stiffened at the extra information he supplied as she looked through the computer, her ears twitching in what Angelo imagined was mild annoyance.
Not as if it’s her job or anything.
“Mr. Lockwood’s office is on the top floor,” she finally informed them. He wasn’t surprised that the selfish man would place his office so high up, considering how inflated his ego was supposed to be.
When Angelo and his personal assistant reached the top floor after an awkward elevator ride in total silence, they were met by another tall woman with the same sense of style and the same uncomfortably tight bun, only this one had hair a dirty-looking shade of brown.
The brown bunny greeted them, making sure to inform them that Mr. Lockwood had been waiting for a few minutes, and showed them to the man’s office.
Angelo took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs like he was trying to inflate a deflated balloon. His nerves had been on fire the entire week, a swirling cocktail of anxiety and dread about today’s meeting. It felt like he had swallowed a live wire, and each tick of the clock only added to the electric tension in his stomach.
Calliope cleared her throat softly, bringing him back to the present and he glanced at her discreetly.
“Time to put on our best smiles,” he deadpanned, his face devoid of any grin. She snickered, muffling the sound behind the tightly-clutched notebook. Angelo joined her, shaking his head as he chuckled lightly.
She gestured to the boardroom with a subtle nod, and they both straightened, heading in. The meeting room was as flashy as the rest of the building. It seemed they had a theme going. The entire skyscraper was full of dark browns and golds, with honest-to-God chandeliers on every ceiling. Every. Single. One.
Angelo felt bad for the poor souls who had to clean this place.
The man of the hour was seated at the head of a very long conference table, facing the double doors Angelo had just stepped through. Wall-to-wall window panes illuminated Oliver Lockwood’s figure, the contrast making him look like Satan himself.
Angelo sat down at the remaining head seat, sending a silent signal of his own that he knew exactly what the old prick was trying to do. He relaxed into his seat, showing no hint of how nervous he was. He was in control. He wouldn’t be swayed by these cheap methods, or overcome by his anxious feelings.
Or so he thought. Because as soon as the door behind him opened again and he saw who had just entered, he nearly fell off his chair.
What. The actual. Fuck.
He knew that woman. He had fucked that woman. Several times in the same night. On his hotel bed. And the hotel bathroom. And then on the goddamn carpeted floor.
Memories flooded his mind. Of her sandy blonde hair falling in smooth waves down her back. Hair he had held onto and pulled as he had pummeled into her from behind. The dark pink, skin-tight mini dress accentuating her slim waist and her long, thick legs. Legs she’d wrapped around him as he had held her in his arms and fucked her against the goddamn shower wall. Her dark red lips wrapped around a glass, downing shot after shot of tequila. Lips he had kissed thoroughly and lipstick he had smeared all over her perfect, round face. With his cock.
I was right. I’m so screwed.
He said a quick prayer for his poor dick that would have to suffer through this meeting with the only woman he’d fucked in the past six months.
The gorgeous woman was tense as she moved, eyes not straying left or right. Her shoulders were stiff and unmoving as she went ahead to sit on Lockwood’s right side, signifying she was his—
Oh God. I had sex with Oliver Lockwood’s personal assistant.
The meeting was excruciating.
What was intended to be an introductory conversation about a merger turned into an interrogation, with Lockwood grilling Angelo from the moment the conference room filled until it emptied. He questioned his motives, experience, and plans for the partnership—even his father’s health. It was clear he was fishing for the reason Angelo’s father had stepped down.
You and me both, buddy. Ew, not buddies.
Now, only the two of them remained in the room. Their PA’s waited just outside.
Bad move. Do not think of the sex-with-legs.
Lockwood sighed, slapping Angelo on the back. Angelo nearly shrugged off the disgusting man but managed to stop himself.
“Well, son, this was a good meeting. I think we can really make something great here,” the old man said, his hand still resting uncomfortably on Angelo’s shoulder, as if he were trying to stake a claim. Lockwood’s look made it clear that nobody said no to him, a fact that Angelo was about to challenge in the most delightful way.
Angelo shrugged off Lockwood’s hairy hand—seriously, gross—like it was a piece of lint stuck to his shirt. He straightened up, standing at his full height, unwavering. He was taller than the man and felt a rush of control wash over him. Lockwood’s almost-friendly smile faltered, fading like an old photograph left out in the sun too long.
“My name is Angelo Taylor, and you do not get to call me ‘son.’ We’re not friends. We’re not partners. In fact, you should consider this more of an audition,” Angelo replied, maintaining his perfectly calm demeanor while mentally cataloging all the ways he could escape this meeting if it turned into a hostage situation. “There’s much left to discuss, and that’s if we decide to proceed.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Considering your last few financial years, you’d be wise to keep me and my empire on your side.” He couldn’t help but relish the way Lockwood’s expression morphed from smug confidence to dawning realization, as if someone had just told him his favorite snack was discontinued.
He buttoned his jacket, embodying the ruthless businessman his father had taught him to be.
“I’ll speak with your assistant to schedule our next meeting since this one turned out to be an interrogation. Be better prepared next time, old man.”
The sneer that took over the old man’s face almost suited his wrinkled features better. Lockwood had clearly thought he could intimidate him, backing him into a corner. But Angelo was always the one in control. And he had just proven himself a worthy adversary.
Angelo walked out of the room and nearly crashed into a woman. The woman. Lockwood’s candy-looking personal assistant. Her heart-shaped face turned to look up at him and he almost kissed her right then and there. A weird look overcame her, and he suspected she was trying to find out why he looked familiar.
Her eyes. The greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.
If she keeps looking up at me like this my cock will wake up. I need to say something, anything.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Taylor! I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she was the one who spoke instead and was absolutely adorable and yup, his dick was awake.
“Not a problem.”
She breathed out slightly, standing straighter and almost taller and—
Oh God. The way she’s standing is making her breasts poke out towards me.
Eyes, Angelo. Look at her eyes.
She only came up just below his chin, even in what looked like five-inch stilettos that made her already long legs look even longer. Without the heels, she’d probably reach the top of his chest, which meant she was quite tall, considering he was six-four himself.
“Mr. Lockwood and I need another meeting. What is his availability for this month?” He fell back on his safety net: work.
She checked the tablet in her hands for an available time, and Angelo checked her out, like the little creep he was.
“Give me a moment, please. I need to check something with him,” the beautiful woman informed him with her sweet voice.
I’ll wait however long it takes.
At that exact moment, Lockwood stepped out of the boardroom. She rushed up to him, and Angelo checked out her perky ass.
I need to ask that woman out. I have to have her again.
“Sir, when would you like me to schedule your next meeting with Mr. Taylor?”
She seemed intimidated by the old man, her posture stiffening as he loomed over her like a dark cloud. Angelo couldn’t stand it. He noticed the way her eyes flickered nervously between the floor and the man’s stern face, as if trying to gauge how far his temper might stretch. It was as if she were a scared puppy backed into a corner, and it sparked a protective instinct in him. He wanted to step in and shatter the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded them, to remind her that she was not alone in this room and that the old man’s bark was much worse than his bite.
I’ll protect you, sweet girl.
Angelo shook his head slightly. He needed to rid himself of these thoughts. The woman didn’t even seem to remember him for Christ’s sake and he was already fucking her for the umpteenth time in his mind.
“Well, daughter, if you were able to do your job correctly, you would…” Angelo didn’t hear the rest of Lockwood’s cold words. Only one word mattered.
Daughter. I fucked Lockwood’s daughter.
What. The actual. FUCK.