Chapter 2
Chase: Beers tonight?
Zeke: Can’t. Working.
Chase: Lame.
Chase: Anyone else?
Logan: I’m in Vancouver.
Mason: Who is this?
Chase: Don't be a dick all your life, I’m your brother.
Mason: You must have the wrong number.
Zeke: Handbags away, ladies.
ZEKE
It’s almost laughable to see the cogs spinning and whirring in Miss Devlin’s pretty little head.
Her light, forget-me-not blue eyes round at the edges, her pillowy pink lips circling into a comical O as she stares.
And stares. And stares. I don’t know why I get such a kick out of it, but I really fucking do.
“Miss Devlin, how lovely to see you again.” I smirk, standing to my full height.
I don’t do it to intimidate her, but I see a flash of something in her crystalline eyes that might be just that.
The shrill tone of a phone ringing on my assistant’s desk cuts the air, but apparently Miss Devlin is too far gone for even this to pull her from whatever hole she has spiraled down.
Smothering a smile, I stride from behind my desk.
My molars grind when I see her shrink back into the doorway slightly.
This is not the fire and brimstone woman I met a few short hours ago—the one who had my cock standing to attention in the middle of a public waiting room—and it pisses me off for some reason.
“This is the part where you come in.” My voice is clipped even to my own ears as I place a hand at the small of her back to urge her to move.
She’s shorter than I realized, even in those fuck-me heels.
Something primitive inside me beats its ribs when she stares up at me from the same height as my chest. I guide her forward, snagging and closing the door with my spare hand.
The moment her motor functions seem to return, I drop my hand from the back of her silky blouse, feeling the ghost of her heat still on my palm.
“Mr. Guerra,” she squeaks, her porcelain cheeks flushed the most alluring rosy pink.
“It is I, the spectacularly gigantic asshole himself,” I agree as I round my desk and lower myself back into my chair.
She flounders and I take the opportunity to soak her in.
Long, fiery auburn hair cascades around her face, tumbling down her back.
Her features are delicate, the bridge of her nose painted with a light dusting of freckles.
She’s alarmingly perfect to look at, but distinctly lacking without the venom spewing from those rosebud lips.
“Sit.” It’s not lost on me that I’m ordering her around like a dog, exactly what she accused me of before.
Hell, maybe that’s why I’m doing it now.
The bloom pulls deeper into her cheeks, spilling over onto her creamy neck.
My dick swells without my permission, thoughts of just how far that blush leaks flashing into my head.
Her delicate brows are pinched together now, and she’s assessing me like she’s weighing her next move.
Somehow, I know exactly what’s going on in that head. Does she obey the man who is commanding her to sit—the man she wants a job from? Or does she do what she really wants and chew me out? I watch with rapt fascination as she processes at lightning speed, opting to be seated. Smart choice.
“For me?” I ask, eyeing the black folder she has clutched to her chest like a life raft.
Her glassy eyes fall, and when they rise again, she’s a whole different woman—calm, collected, and in control of her faculties.
“Yes, my portfolio. I’ve prepared a summary of my last few projects for your review, Mr. Guerra.”
I like the way she says my name in that raspy little voice a little too much, but I nod and extend my hand.
She places it firmly in my grasp and waits as I lean back and flip through the pages.
A small part of me hopes that she is painfully dull, or unaccomplished—that way, I can dismiss the idea of her working here and save myself the headache of ignoring my obvious attraction.
But logical me knows my HR team wouldn’t waste my time by scheduling an interview with someone who wasn’t pulling punches in the tech space.
“You worked on X-tech’s launch of their Genesis translation software?” I raise my brow as I turn my attention back to her. That software changed the way AI will be used in language services for the next ten years, maybe forever.
“Yes, I was deputy to the head of development there for four years. The head said—”
“Dale Rogers?” I cut across, frowning as I splay her portfolio open on my desk.
“Yes.” She fights back a scowl and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from smirking.
Miss Devlin doesn’t like being interrupted.
There is a reason I have a reputation that is less than favorable.
It’s because I make no apologies for the way I conduct business.
I don’t give a flying fuck if people like me.
I’m not here to host tea parties and sing “Kumbaya” around the company campfire every morning.
My staff are paid well, have excellent benefits, and have the full weight of my company's support to develop their skill sets.
Frilly words and frivolities are a waste of my time.
“Why haven’t I heard from him that you are interviewing? He has my number.” One of the few that do. I don’t give it out lightly.
She squares her shoulders, tipping her chin skyward. “I asked him not to.” Sky-blue eyes meet mine in a steady hold.
So, Miss Devlin is proud. I can’t decide if that pride is admirable or foolish in the face of so much competition.
I had a Harvard graduate walk out of here not two hours ago who had no qualms about handing over a letter of recommendation from the COO of one of the city's most respected educational tech companies.
My intercom buzzes, interrupting the fraught battle of gazes between us. Clicking a black button down at the edge of my desk, I say, “Yes?”
“Mason Walker for you on line one, Mr. Guerra.”
I glance at the blinking light on my desk phone.
“Tell him I’m busy.” The line crackles faintly, but I don’t hear Jacob’s end drop.
“Problem?” I drawl, returning my eyes to Miss Devlin.
Her eyes are wide again, and I wonder if she recognizes the name.
Anyone with half an eye on the tabloids or an interest in business knows of Mason Walker, CEO of Jefferson Lee Investment Bank, and one of my few carefully selected friends.
“You know what he is like, Mr. Guerra,” Jacob replies, his tone tight.
I chuckle, but it dies a quick death when I see Miss Devlin’s pink tongue dart across her lower lip. Fuck. “Yes, I know what he is like,” I say tersely, warding off indecent thoughts that all involve that damn tongue.
“Yes sir, I’ll tell him you’re busy.” Jacob’s reply comes instantly, and I hear the line click dead. Poor guy is about to get the full weight of Mason’s steely tongue, no doubt.
“Tell me about Duke—”
“Are we really going to sit here and pretend that earlier never happened?” She blurts the words out so fast, she shocks herself. I can almost see her trying to stuff them back into her mouth.
I blink, not used to anyone cutting me off. But then again, I’m not used to anyone speaking to me the way she does. “Earlier?” I muse with a feigned frown of incomprehension. The muscle in her cheek twitches as she glares at me. It gives me a thrill to rile her.
“Yes, ea—”
“Oh.” I click my fingers, a smile bleeding onto my face. “You mean when you called me a sex addict and all but flipped me off?”
She pales, almost like she forgot her parting throwaway. “I’ll just…see myself out,” she says quietly, pulling herself up and smoothing her skirt before reaching for her portfolio.
“I haven’t dismissed you, Miss Devlin.” I pull the file out of her reach.
She’s partially leaned over my desk, giving me a fantastic view of red lace between her blouse buttons.
Her eyes round and she freezes. I point one finger to her chair and hold her gaze.
That fucking blush is going to be the end of me.
Her throat works to swallow, and she sits.
“If you want the job, it’s yours,” I say swiftly, closing the portfolio with a soft snap and pushing it her way.
Those big blue doe eyes blink once. Twice. “But you can’t possibly—”
“I don’t take kindly to being told what I can and can’t do,” I warn, annoyance pulsing through my gut. “I’m hiring you for the fact you worked on Genesis alone, references withstanding.”
She’s silent for a heartbeat. “Okay.” She breathes, steadying herself with a sharp breath through her nose.
“Good, that will be all for today,” I dismiss, already picking up my phone receiver from its cradle. As I dial the number I know by heart, I watch her curvy little ass walk away in that damned pencil skirt, wondering if I’ll live to regret this decision.
“Took you long enough,” Mason bites gruffly down the phone as my office door closes.
I huff out a deep sigh. “I was in the middle of interviewing a woman who might just make my life a living hell.”
Astute as he is, Mason doesn’t miss a beat.
“Careful now, that’s how I got dragged into being an honest man.
” I laugh, scrubbing a hand over my face, suddenly feeling as tired as I am antsy.
I know he’s joking. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see how wholly smitten he is with his wife, Mia.
Even I have to admit, their baby girl Macey is one of the cutest kids I’ve ever seen.
“Does this mean my wife is going to be sorely disappointed that you didn’t hire the candidate she put forward?” Mason continues.
Ah, Harvard guy. “Yeah, think you can let her down gently for me?” I ask as I flip my laptop up and type in my password.
His deep chuckle reverberates against my ear where my phone is now pressed to my shoulder. “Not a chance, buddy. That pleasure is all yours.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m unable to stifle my smile. “You’re a shit friend, you know that?”
“Yeah. Good luck.” He laughs and the line goes dead.