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Continuing to decline interview offers in the form of deletion persists, “Why would I know if that’s a plant?”
“It is a plant!” She squeaks in enthusiasm. “I didn’t mean to say it like a question. I don’t mean to say so many things like a question. I just get nervous and uncomfortable and…and…and…”
Her desperate fumbling forces my gaze up to see just how far she’s migrated into the room.
And how high she’s inched her work dress up since our last encounter.
“It’s herbal. Great for allergies.” Her petite frame braces itself against the pillar that’s closest to my desk. “Relaxation.”
The double meaning isn’t lost on me.
Okay it is.
But not in the sense that I don’t understand it.
I do.
I just have no interest in using the less than subtle services she’s pitching.
Is she attractive?
Yes.
Am I attracted to her?
No.
Which is a good thing since she’s my employee and a great thing since my best friend is.
He’s the one she should be trying to flirt with.
Get close to.
They would both be much happier than this unapproved tragic triangle we seem to have fallen into.
“Anything else, Wes?” Her head angles itself to let her red locks enticing dangle around her face. “Anything at all?”
I prepare to dismiss her from my presence when movement on my far-left monitor captures my attention.
Seeing the arrival of the SUV I know J.T. has brought Lauren’s daughter back in has me adjusting uncomfortably in my leather seat.
Legal is the reason she’s been granted permission onto my property.
Despite the wording of Lauren’s contract, Hawthorne broke down how there could be a case against me – winnable case – if I continued to deny her daughter access to her, especially if Lauren’s illness results in death.
Hamilton had him contact me to explain the circumstances and then reached out to J.T. to further push the issue, ultimately leading us to negotiate the visitation terms because while I may look like a monster and sound like a monster and even feel like a monster, I’m not completely one.
At least not yet.
Nathaniel Holmes exits the driver’s seat and immediately opens the door behind him for our guest of honor.
Long, ripped jean covered legs are the first thing to come into view; however, when the remainder enters my sights, everything else vanishes.
Gone is the freshly washed and waxed vehicle.
Non-existent is Holmes’s dark umber bald head and large hand.
All that I see, all that I am capable of seeing is a beauty that vastly pales in comparison to the few photos Luther Park, head of my in-house security team that used to work for Haworth Enterprises, sent me in the dossier.
