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I sigh. “Oli...”
“I let you slip through my fingers once,” he whispers, his icy eyes lost in mine. “I won’t do it again.”
Oliver touches my cheek. Again, I think to resist it, but the blooms of warmth rushing through my face keep me grounded. His touch travels upward, nuzzling my hair back behind my ear. He drifts closer, our lips drawn to each other without connection.
“You’re mine, Paige,” he whispers, his breath warm on my cheek. “I’m not letting you go.”
I tilt into his kiss. My heart pounds like a drum as I curl my arms around his neck, giving myself over to temptation.
Still, somehow, through everything we know we can and can’t be, five little words echo in my mind.
No one has to know.
CHAPTER 44
OLIVER
The annual Botsford Corp shareholders’ convention.
For years, I’ve spent a lot of time on the outside. I own shares in the company, just like every other building manager, but as the manager of the venue, I had a lot more going on than attending meetings and hamming it up at the hotel bar after hours.
Well, except for that one night in particular, of course.
This year, it’s different. It’s all different.
This year, I have a seat at the table. I’m not someone who takes orders from the big guys upstairs. I’m one of the big guys.
It feels good.
I enter the golden ballroom in the Vegas Plaza lobby, passing under a banner that says, “Welcome, Shareholders!” The chairs separate the room into two sections; the front rows for the visiting building managers with the back three rows reserved for the company’s major shareholders, including the Board of Directors; powerful men and women like Kingston and Drake Botsford and, of course, the family’s lawyer, Stella Walsh, who is currently talking quietly with Graham and Hayden. I wave as I pass and continue on. Best not disturb them.
They’re all chatting and mingling for now, but once the lights go down and the presentations begin, it’ll be pin-drop quiet in here as the big wigs determine whether their dollars are being spent correctly. A bad convention reflects badly on leadership. More specifically, on Graham now that Kingston has retired.
Time to make this place look good.
I stride down the aisle between the rows of chairs. A podium sits up front with a laptop perched on top and wired to a projector screen mounted behind, ready for the building managers to use during their presentations.
A quick scan of the front rows and I see a field of familiar faces. Marla and Jonah, who should probably be in the back with other major shareholders, but I doubt anyone is going to try to pull him away from his new wife. Miranda and Peter. Angela, of course. She spots me and smiles. I blow her a kiss and she casually flicks me the bird before going right back to her conversation with Marla. Fun broad, that one.
And then there’s Paige.
She sits in the front row with her clipboard on her lap and her phone in her hand. She scribbles and texts, always running at one-hundred percent during work hours. She’s a firecracker outside work hours, too.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
As I step closer, I notice the little beads of blue scattered around her. Sapphire necklace and earrings. A deep navy scarf around her neck. Her chic yet sensible shoes.
I smile, happy I chose the blue striped tie this morning.
I sit down in the empty seat beside her. Paige raises her head to greet whoever sat next to her and exhales in surprise when she realizes it’s me.
“Oh, what?” I ask, amused.
“Are you sure you should sit next to me?” she whispers, only for me beneath the audible hum of the room.
“No one is going to question why the Company Liaison is sitting next to the CEO’s assistant.”
Her brow furrows in thought. I have a point, and she knows it.
