Chapter 21
Evan
“Son, can you please explain why our chief of finance just forwarded me an invoice, just shy of a million dollars, just to install a panoramic elevator?” My father barges into my office without knocking, his voice loud and laced with anger.
Annoyance flares in my gut at both his intrusion, and his total disregard for discretion. I peek around him, checking to see if the reason for this new development heard anything. I sigh in relief when I spot Anais, engrossed in something Janice is saying.
I glare at my father, jerking my head toward the door. “Will you keep your voice down. And shut the damn door.”
Christian Maxwell levels me with a look that says I better watch my tone when I’m talking to him.
But still, he does as I ask, closing the door behind him.
I’m not usually disrespectful toward my father, but Jesus fucking Christ, he can’t just barge into my office, shouting things I’d rather keep private.
“Well?” he prompts, pulling at the knees of his pants, before lowering into a chair.
I run a hand through my hair, shrugging. “Thought it’d be nice to have a view instead of staring at metal doors.”
His eyes narrow. My father knows me too well to believe that bullshit.
“Cut the shit Evan. My floor’s the highest in the building and it takes no more than five minutes to get there from the lobby.
Not enough time to admire any damn view.
So why the hell are you having a panoramic elevator installed to replace the old one?
Not only will it be out of service for a month, but it’s an unnecessary expense. ”
My father is not bothered about the money. Not really. The man’s a billionaire in his own right, and Maxwell Diamonds is worth ten times that. The cost of a new elevator is pocket change.
But still, I hesitate, debating on how much to tell him. Not because I’m embarrassed by what I’ve had commissioned, but because Anais trusted me with a secret. It’s not my place to reveal it. Still, I need to give him something.
“Anais has a fear of elevators,” I state calmly.
His brows pinch together, and he blinks as if that’s the last thing he thought would come out of my mouth “No, she’s not,” he murmurs, dubiously. “I’ve ridden in elevators with her. She was fine.”
“She is afraid,” I respond slowly. “Don’t ask me why – it’s not my story to tell.
But Wednesday evening, she had an anxiety attack when the elevator stopped.
I had to calm her down until maintenance got it moving again.
” And that’s as much as I’m going to say on the matter.
I shrug, nonchalantly. “I want her to be comfortable while she’s here. ”
His eyes narrow, as he studies me and suddenly, I feel exposed; as if he can read every last thought in my head. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. He knows damn well, I’d never willingly go out of my way to accommodate people. So, I’m sure he’s confused right now.
“Since when do you care about Anais’s comfort?” he asks suspiciously.
It’s an honest question. I never have before, so me going to these lengths is… questionable. “I don’t. Not really.” I shrug. “I just don’t want another meltdown. I don’t have time to deal with that kind of shit.”
My father laughs, one eyebrow raising sardonically.
“So, let me get this straight. Anais, who you don’t care about,” his voice is thick with sarcasm.
My teeth grind together. “Is afraid of elevators, so you spent nearly a million dollars to make her comfortable, and she’s only here for another five weeks? ”
“Like I said.” I say, feigning nonchalance. “It’s a nice view.” I shrug. “Plus, Anais made me realize other people might have similar issues. Benefits everyone.”
He throws his head back, laughing. It grates on my every last nerve.
I grit my teeth, scowling. Dad rises from his chair, his smirk knowing.
“And like I said, there’s not enough time to appreciate the view.
” He points at me, grin widening. I positively fucking hate it.
“Oh, son,” he laughs. “You’re so screwed. ”
And with that, he leaves, the sound of his mocking chuckle echoing in my office long after he closes my door.
I slump back in my seat, running a finger across my lower lip as I mull over everything that was just said. Maybe there’s some truth in his words, but I refuse to acknowledge that right now.
Especially after this morning’s antics, when Anais childishly knocked over my pen holder, making a mess of my desk. It confirmed everything I already know. I don’t like her. She’s immature. A brat. Chaotic. Messy.
Everything I hate in a woman.
Sure, I commissioned a panoramic elevator and paid extra just to have it expedited and installed in a timely manner. I wanted Anais to be able to see into the building should it ever stall again. But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m simply making sure my employee can function properly at work.
Yet, even as I think it, I know without a doubt no other boss would go to these lengths.
I swallow, biting down my sardonic amusement.
Maybe my father was right.
Maybe I am screwed.
“How do you think Anais will handle tonight?” my father asks casually, from across the town car.
I glance up from my phone, giving him my full attention.
Tonight we showcase our latest collection, with hundreds of millions potentially on the table, if it goes how we anticipate it should.
It’s an important night, with existing and new clients from around the world attending.
Many of them, obscenely rich and influential, will gather in a private suite in one of Jameson’s hotels, to preview and purchase some of the rarest, most expensive, diamonds on the planet. Anais better not fuck it up.
The little brat has not only fucked with my lunch, but now she’s decided to fuck with my carefully organized desk.
Within the last couple days, she’s made a point of leaving a mess in my office, several times.
I can just about cope with the croutons, but fucking with my desk? That’s taking it a step too far.
Anais is aware of my obsessive tendencies. She knows I like organization and order. So when she scattered pens, again, I nearly lost my damn mind. I wanted nothing more than to lay her across my knee and spank her ass for her insolence.
My cock tightens in my pants at the thought.
Clearing my throat, I glance at Aria, then Bishop – her ex-bodyguard, and now fiancé – then back to my father. My mother isn’t joining us tonight, choosing to stay home and look after her grandson.
They all stare at me, waiting for my response.
“She’ll be fine if she can keep her brattiness in check.” I finally answer.
“Brattiness?” One eyebrow raises in questioning amusement.
I huff a laugh. “Don’t act surprised. You know she’s a damn brat.”
My sister chimes in, unhelpfully. “Well, I actually think Anais has matured a lot since I last saw her.”
Shaking my head, I snort. Aria believes this because she doesn’t see the side of Anais that she only seems to reserve for me. I’m sure if she witnessed her childish games she would think differently. But… there is also another side to Anais. Softer. Submissive. Vulnerable.
I’ve spent the better part of two days trying to forget that damn kiss, but I should’ve known better. It’s just like that fucking little brat to infiltrate my mind, reminding me she’s still here waiting for me. I grit my teeth.
She has no business being anywhere in my head, or anywhere else for that matter.
My father smirks. “Would you spend nearly a million dollars on a brat,” he raises his brow in challenge, and it takes everything inside me not to bite back. What’s the point?
“A million dollars? On what?” Bishop blurts, frowning.
“It’s nothing,” I snap.
“On the contrary,” my dad says smugly. “Installing a panoramic elevator in our building just to make Anais comfortable, is definitely something.”
Aria’s gaze swings to me, her eyes wide when she gasps. “You did what?”
I rub my temples, trying to alleviate the headache that is forming. “Jesus fucking Christ, will everyone shut the hell up.”
Laughter erupts in the back of the car. My jaw tightens.
“Ah. We’re here,” my father muses.
I glance out the window, my brows furrowing as I scan our surroundings. This isn’t The Calloway, the five-star luxury hotel hosting our event, this is–
My accusing gaze swings to my father, “Why are we at Anais’s building?”
Dad smooths a hand down his tie, clearing his throat. “Because we’re picking her up,” he says simply.
“No shit,” I deadpan. “Why are we picking her up?”
“I didn’t want her travelling alone,” he mutters, the smirk playing on his lips, knowing.
My jaw tightens, but I don’t dignify him with a response.
Instead, I settle back in the buttery leather seat and sip my scotch.
I don’t make it a habit to drink at our own events – usually sticking to a two-drink limit – but I need something to take the edge off before Anais climbs in and sucks all the air out of the vehicle.
My father types something on his phone before slipping it into his suit jacket pocket and turning his attention to me. “You’re responsible for Anais tonight. Make sure she knows what to do.”
Irritation slithers through my veins, and I bristle. “I already explained everything to her yesterday. If she can’t follow simple instructions, then maybe she shouldn’t be attending one of our most lucrative events.”
His eyes narrow, clearly done with my attitude.
Well, the feelings are mutual. I’m over this nonsense of him injecting Anais into my life.
“Just behave, Evan, and do as you’re told,” he warns, like I’m a child.
He runs a hand across his jaw. “It’s her first event, and they can be overwhelming.
Just…” he trails off, clearing his throat. “Just keep an eye on her, okay?”
My own gaze narrows. “You’ve never been concerned about the other women working the room. Why Anais?”
He exhales, “Charles asked me to look after her. She’s my goddaughter, Evan. And you know how some of our clientele can behave around attractive young women.”
My body stiffens with his words. Stupidly, I hadn’t considered that. Now that my father has brought it to my attention, I don’t like it, not one bit. I don’t want Anais around those sorts of men, being stared at like she’s a piece of meat.
Then clientele at our events include some of the most affluent, powerful people in the world.
But as with many things tied with money and power, there’s often a darker side they like to keep hidden.
The men believe the world is their playground and they can take what they want without fear of consequence.
And sadly, most of the time, they’re right.
The heat of my father’s stare burns my cheek.
I clear my throat. “I’ll take care of her.”
He nods, just as the door opens and Anais climbs inside.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of her.
Because holy fucking shit, she is a vision to worship in that dress. Though I’d never willingly get down on my knees for anyone, in this moment I’d gladly kneel at her altar.
Awareness prickles my skin, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
She’s stunning. The kind of beauty that can make grown men weep.
And when she smiles at me… my heart stutters, my cock twitches and my blood heats.
Possessive, dangerous… Unwelcome?
And in that moment, I know my father was right.
I’m really fucking screwed.