Chapter 9
Brook Simons
I will my heart to stop racing, but every time I shake another hand, Matteo’s eyes darken.
Seriously, I wouldn’t be standing beside him greeting the men he cultivated to shape his business if he didn’t demand it of me. The dirty looks are totally uncalled for.
If only my nerve endings didn’t sizzle and my heart didn’t lurch every time his eyes roam over me, I wouldn’t have so much trouble memorizing each newcomer’s name.
When a familiar face exits the elevator, my mind screeches to a halt. Uncertainty travels down my spine.
I didn’t get my boss’s permission to request copies of the company’s latest legal proceedings, but Mr. Johnson was kind enough to humor me.
The stack of binders sitting on the corner of my desk mocks me.
I didn’t plan to ask for them, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity when Ms. Lynn sent me to the legal department.
If Mr. Ricco is in cahoots with my father, then he’ll snatch them away as soon as he realizes what they are and punish me for overstepping my boundaries.
I signed the nondisclosure agreement and won’t risk my future over something so futile, but I was stupid to risk my boss’s ire. Requesting them was a mistake.
I shove my dread aside and greet the head of the legal department.
“Mr. Johnson, it’s nice to see you again.”
Mr. Ricco intercepts our handshake and guides Mr. Johnson away from me with their clasped hands. Neither man shows an ounce of aggression, but the subtle undertone from Matteo lifts the hairs on my nape.
When he releases Mr. Johnson’s hand and motions him toward the conference table, I brace for his glare, but my body betrays me anyway. Heat pools low in my belly despite the arrogant tilt of his brow.
During onboarding this morning, they disclosed the use of security cameras throughout the building. I assumed the footage was handled off site, but after Mr. Ricco’s sudden appearance during Liam’s tutorial earlier today, I realized he has direct access to the feed.
The overbearing asshole has been micromanaging me from afar all day today.
Despite my professional facade, I fume as I stand beside him. His lack of trust in my work is insulting. He even keeps me close during the meeting under the guise of helping me while he is, in fact, controlling and overseeing every move I make.
By the time he gestures for me to sit in a chair along the wall beside Liam, my cheeks hurt from forcing my smile, but when I sit down and knock my elbow on the armrest, blinding white pain shoots through my shoulder.
In a perfect world, I would have iced my entire arm right after knocking it on the car door this morning, but this world is anything but perfect. Case in point, the woman I pissed off on the sidewalk is now my number one hater at work. And my boss gave her cart blanche access to me.
When fatigue tugs at my eyelids less than five minutes into the meeting, I bite the inside of my lip and open to a fresh page in my notepad. Mr. Brunswick assured me he was recording and would send the file to a transcribing service, but I take notes to avoid falling asleep.
When they begin tossing around terms I’ve never heard before, I jot them down to research later.
As they offer options and suggestions, much of the discussion is beyond my understanding, but I do my best to follow along.
By the time Mr. Ricco thanks everyone for their time and ends the meeting, my head swims from information overload.
I stand and hide my grimace as my arm throbs.
Mr. Ricco gestures for me, so I tuck my notepad into my breast pocket and join him at the head of the table.
With a single glance at the space beside him, he demands I heel like a dog as he shakes hands and nods to the men who approach him on their way out.
I got used to being the only female in a room during law school, but self-deprecation worms through me when Ms. Lynn smiles her way through the crowd. With her tight skirt and big breasts, she stands out amidst the tailored suits and broad shoulders, making me feel dowdy and uninteresting.
I bury the doubts under my law license and capabilities, knowing my skills and certification far outshine Ms. Lynn’s physical attributes.
She sways her hips all the way up to Mr. Ricco’s other side, not stopping until her arm brushes over his.
“Sir, you have a call on line one,” she says as she extends a sticky note toward him with the caller’s ID.
He takes it with a nod and excuses himself. Ms. Lynn gives me a smile full of victory before flirting her way back through the dwindling crowd. I refrain from rolling my eyes and instead help Liam usher the stragglers into the elevator before focusing on the end-of-meeting checklist.
With only two place settings to clear from the table, I set the tray between them and roll my head on my neck, hoping a bit of stretching will alleviate the ache at the base of my skull.
The last rays of sun backlight the window shades.
Most workers have clocked out to navigate the evening rush hour, but two of the executive officers returned to their desks instead of heading to the elevator.
Everything hurts. I need food, water, and sleep, but Mr. Brunswick shows no signs of stopping as he streamlines as much as he can for the CEO.
After two nights of very little sleep, the emotionally draining altercations with my new boss, a full day of being on my feet and hiding the agony in my shoulder, I’m almost as exhausted as when I worked multiple part-time jobs while studying and taking care of my mother.
I roll my neck, but it only exacerbates my headache, so I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose as I take a deep breath. Imagining I blow out the pain with my exhale, I open my eyes and reach for the nearest item to put on the tray.
Warmth seeps into my back. I stiffen. Thick fingers wrap around my wrist and guide my hand to the orange juice in Matteo’s other hand. My mouth dries. With his arms surrounding me and his body an inch away from my back, I feel tiny and delicate. Need heats my skin.
He closes my fingers around the drink and drops his hands to the edge of the table. My nape tingles as he leans down to murmur with his lips near my temple.
“You seem tired, little rabbit. Was flirting with all your coworkers really that draining?”
Indignation spears through me.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t challenge me, Brook. I saw how you batted your lashes at Mr. Johnson. Are you trying to sleep your way onto the legal team? Do you think he stands a chance against me?”
I shiver as his breath ghosts across my flesh. When the meaning of his words seeps in through my arousal, anger magnifies the heat in my blood.
“Wow, insecure much? Get off me,” I manage through clenched teeth.
He shifts his hands closer together on the table and presses his front against my back.
“You’re mine, Brook. I do not share.”
“I am not yours, and you’re delusional. I haven’t flirted with anyone today,” I say.
“Really? You seemed pretty close to Mr. Brunswick this morning,” he growls.
“You’re acting like a caveman,” I accuse.
He chuckles and rubs his lips against my temple as he speaks.
“I will happily walk around shirtless and beat every man you talk to with a big stick if that’s the only way to make you understand.”
Pleasure arrows down my spine as he slips a hand between my hip and the table. His fingertips tease a few centimeters away from the juncture of my thighs, and even through the layers of fabric, my clit throbs for his touch.
The pain in my arm prevents me from sinking all the way under his spell.
“You’re crazy,” I rasp.
“For you, yes. I am,” he growls.
His chest vibrates against my back. My insides clench and arousal dampens my panties.
“No. We hate each other. It’ll never work.”
He rolls his hips, grinding his massive cock against my ass, and flicks his tongue over the shell of my ear.
“This will always work between us. Hate adds spice,” he murmurs.
He cups the underside of my breast. My nipples peak even as pain lances up my arm. I shake my head despite the hunger racing through me.
“No. I’m here to work, not have sex. Especially not with you,” I declare in a throaty voice.
“Don’t lie, little rabbit. You want me.”
“I don’t.”
“Your body says you want this just as much as mine does.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Oh really?” He presses himself harder against my back and dips his head to whisper against my cheek.
“So why is your face flushed?” He bends and skims his lips to the side of my throat.
“Why is your heart racing?” I struggle to breathe as he flexes his fingers into my ribs and sex, overwhelming and teasing me with too many sensations.
“Why are you pressing this perfect ass against my hard cock?”
I bite back a whimper and shake my head.
“I bet you’re soaked. Be a good little rabbit and let me check, yeah?”
He slides his hand up to my stomach before slipping his fingers into my pants.
High heels click against the polished floor.
I shove away from the table and twist out of his arms. Agony streaks through my shoulder and my clit throbs in demand, but I add more distance between us before turning to meet his eyes.
His heavy-lidded gaze liquifies my insides.
The bottle of juice I dropped in my haste rolls off the far side of the table and bounces onto the floor as Ms. Lynn steps into the room.
Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene, and when she narrows her glare on my face, I know she blames me for the tension in the room. I lift my chin and relax my fists.
“No thank you, Mr. Ricco. If there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to work,” I say.
He crosses his arms over his chest and clenches his teeth. Lust and frustration shine from his eyes, rallying my own need, but he morphs his countenance into icy indifference and delivers his words in a tone that brooks no argument.
“Finish your checklist, make three cups of coffee, then report to my office for debriefing. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”