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CHAPTER TWELVE
KNOX
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This is a bad idea. Taking her to the gala tonight was my idea, but it’s still a terrible idea.
Now my father has met Payton, so at least he knows the stakes with me taking her to this damn event. At least, I assume that’s what his fucking smirk was about.
It was inevitable he’d have an opinion about her once they met, but of all days...
Today she’s wearing a mid-thigh length fitted navy dress with capped sleeves and a square neckline. The knit fabric presses her assets together, creating the perfect cleavage that no man could ignore.
I know my father didn’t, even if she is a young woman.
He isn’t blind.
It occurred to me last night that I don’t know if she has a boyfriend. I hope she does—liar—because this evening, let’s face it, me + Payton + alcohol = reduced willpower.
I refuse to believe I can’t control my cock around a beautiful woman. I’ve played it out in my head. All I have to do is to be alone with her in the limo on the way to the event. Then we’ll be surrounded by people.
And safe.
Then a thirty-minute drive home in the limo. Full of alcohol.
Shit. We might need a chaperone.
Fuck that. I can control my damn cock for an hour. I’m not a sex craved lunatic.
And I have to go to this event. Ward announced his resignation to the board this week and there’s a lot of chatter in the industry.
My attendance at these events was now going to be paramount as part of the three-month long interview process. Because that’s what this is.
Plus, there will be those wanting my job—sorry, Dad's job—sniffing around.
It’s time to ignore this insane sexual attraction to Payton and focus on what’s important.
I CLIMB OUT of the limo and do up the button of my black jacket and cross the sidewalk to Payton’s building.
I press the button to let her know I’ve arrived. A few minutes later, as I’m staring across the street, she comes down.
“Hi, Mr. Montgomery,” she says, and I turn.
“Great, let’s get go—”
Holy fuck.
I’m going to fucking kill Mandy. Although I can’t be sure she was the one who chose the outfit, I need to blame someone.
Payton looks drop dead fucking gorgeous.
“I hope this is okay.” Payton stares down at the blush cocktail dress which clings to every single one of her delectable curves.
And hides nothing.
