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“Hmm?” I glance at him, then turn my attention back to the report in my hand.
“Presley, your new publicist.” I hate the way he says publicist, like it’s not actually her job and this is all some ruse.
“What about her?” I ask firmly, tossing the report onto the table.
“What’s this interview she has you doing?”
“It’s a profile for the Chicago Booth Review. As an alumni and now professor there, they want to interview me, simple as that. She and another student, Forrest who is an editor, set it up.”
“She’s a student?” I don’t know why this is so shocking to him. “Your new publicist is one of your students?”
“Yes,” I say, continuing to fiddle with my phone.
“Seems a touch unethical, don’t you think? A conflict of interest?”
“How? She wasn’t hired by me; Lisa Wade hired her. Not to mention, she wasn’t hired to be my competition’s publicist. That would be a conflict of interest; this is not.”
“And things are going well with her?” He nods his head, pulling his glasses off and chewing the earpiece for a brief second.
“What the hell are you trying to say, Nelson? I really don’t have time for this shit. She’s my publicist; she works for Lisa. You didn’t seem to have all these suspicious concerns when Becky was my publicist. If you don’t want to give a quote, don’t give one; simple as that.” I stand up and button my suit coat. “Get me the final numbers for Meridian by the end of the week. I have that gala this weekend and I don’t want to be worried about anything else while I’m there. Miss James has a list of people I’ll need to speak to and I want to make sure I can be focused.”
“Miss James is attending the gala?” If I thought his ears were burning before, they’re on fire now.
“Yes.”
“Peter Frisk will be there,” he says quickly, shooting up out of his chair.
“And? Peter is always at these things. He’s a professional ass-kissing snake, Nelson; we know that.” I turn and walk toward the door. “Don’t forget the report.”
“Just—be careful is all.”
I stop and turn back around. “Be careful? What do you mean?”
His face grows red and his cheeks jiggle as he shakes his head rapidly. “I—I just mean with her there and Peter is all. He might get the wrong idea.”
I stare at him for several seconds. I’m good at reading people—fucking great at it actually—and something in my gut tells me that there’s more to what Nelson is saying. I nod. “Noted.”
It hasn’t gone unnoticed by me how up my ass Nelson has been lately, whether it’s about this Meridian deal or now with Presley. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going to find out.
* * *
I adjust my bow tie in the mirror, two frown lines already rooted between my brows. I haven’t been to a public event like this in over a year and I haven’t missed them. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, more than denying myself the fantasy of Presley James in my bed, it’s kissing ass and pretending to give a shit about other rich people’s new yachts and summer homes on the French Riviera.
The last few days have been agonizing. After our little moment in my gym, Presley has barely spoken to me outside of professional necessity. She sat quietly in class, taking her notes studiously and disappearing before I could even put my coat on. I remind myself that this is exactly what I wanted to happen. She needs to realize that while a flirty comment here and there won’t push me over the edge, tempting me with a look that’s begging me to defile her will.
My phone buzzes and I slide my thumb across the screen to answer it.
“Wes, everything okay?”
“Sir, she’s already left her building, I think. I’ve rang the buzzer several times and there’s no answer. Would you like me to wait longer or come back and get you?”
I rub my temple. Of course she didn’t listen to me. I told her yesterday that I would send Wes by to pick her up for the gala, and then he would swing by and get me so we’d arrive together.
“No, don’t wait. Just come back and get me.”
By the time we arrive at the function, my frustration is through the roof. I smile and nod as I walk inside, my focus on the dozens of people milling about as I try to find her. I hear her before I see her, that sweet, innocent-sounding laugh echoing through the room.
Her back is to me; it’s exposed. She’s wearing a floor-length black velvet gown that hugs her body like a glove, flaring out slightly below her knees. If it dips that low in the back, all the way down to the top of her ass, I can only imagine the front. Her hair is pinned to her head in loose curls, a few hanging around her neck.
