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Vince is a quiet man, older and gentleman-like. He’s worked for me for over three years now and mostly keeps to himself. Which I appreciate.
Which means when he says something, he’s got a reason.
I nod, finding his assurance out of character, and vaguely wonder what he thinks of my decision to bring a date tonight.In the time I’ve known him, I’ve never felt compelled to do so. I only attend what I must or what benefits me to do so. Plus-ones aren’t necessary. In fact, they’re usually a danger—highlighting weakness, serving as potential targets, and hindering the business at hand.
Unless the plus-one is the business.
His gaze shifts back to the street, and I let the conversation die. I don’t really need to respond, and I don’t plan to. Vince is my employee because he’s got the class and refinement of a chauffeur, with the pathfinding and driving skills of an experienced taxi driver. The man can practically sniff out the fastest route from anywhere in the city, and I’ve never missed an appointment because of him.
As it should be.
My suit is pressed, black as midnight and sharper than a razor. The champagne that’s chilling to my left is equally high end, ten-year-old Louis Roederer Brut. I picked it out because it reminds me of Raven. To the uneducated masses, they might overlook it because it’s not a trending name like vintage Dom Perignon. But they’d be missing out in doing so.
In much the same way, I would be a fool to ignore the potential Miss Hill possesses. But I’d be an even bigger fool to bring her into my employ. Especially given how my dick reacts to the mere thought of her.
All week, while the markets opened and closed, projections were presented, and people have volleyed for my attention, I’ve thought of nothing but tonight. I’ve plotted and planned, being more thorough than I had a chance to be during my lunch with Raven. In every scenario, one truth reigns.
Business should remain business. There’s no need to muddy the waters with silly, transient things like lust when clean, strategic, logic provides the best return on investment.
So I will be a man of my word andintroduce Raven to the right people. I will not hold her down the way Evan Faulkner clearly did, sabotaging her career.
And though I wouldn’t mind holding her down in another way, I won’t do that either. She is a risk I shouldn’t take.
Which means my intention tonight must be singular—burn what’s left of the ashes between myself and Evan.
I’m playing out the evening in my mind as the city passes by outside the window. Lost in possibilities, I’m surprised when Vince alerts me to the fact that we’ve arrived at our destination. Raven’s apartment. The neighborhood itself is up and coming. I’m certain it’s not cheap, as nothing in the city is, but it’s not at all what I’m accustomed to these days.
Buzzing the apartment, I’m surprised when the door lock simply clicks open without any verification that I should be permitted entrance. I glance back at Vince, who moves as if to escort me into the building. I hold up a staying hand, and he stills. I’m fine and don’t need protection from whatever potentially lurks inside. He chuckles but hides it with a sharp clearing of his throat.
Beyond the door, I find my first annoyance. A complete lack of an elevator. Raven’s text said she lives in apartment 4C, which means I have several flights of stairs ahead of me.
Moments later, I take a deep breath to steady myself as I reach the top and look up and down Raven’s hallway. The building’s old enough to still try and carpet their hallways, although I suspect by the worn-down appearance that this generation of rugs will be the last before a more budget-friendly option is employed. The hallway lights are LED bulbs in shatterproof glass globes, and the walls are painted a very economical off-white.
Down the hallway, a door opens and a man with a round belly like he’s got a basketball stuffed under his bathrobe shuffles to a garbage chute, dumping his trash inside before turning and giving me a once-over. “How you doin’?”
“Just fine, thanks,” I reply, knocking on Raven’s door. I ignorethe man, not inviting further conversation, and focus all my attention on the painted black door before me. I hear high heels approach, and then the door opens to reveal Raven.
My heart beats in a way that multiple flights of stairs can’t hold a candle to as I take her in. Her red dress is absolutely stunning, hugging her lush curves in all the right places and highlighting her assets in a way her professional attire at our interview did not. Her hair falls in a straight sheet down her back, her green eyes look feline with sharp black liner, and her lips shine with gloss. The total effect is one of elegant seductiveness.
My dick twitches in my slacks, arguing with our current plan of business only.
She’s fucking gorgeous. I thought my memory might’ve been playing tricks on me, or that my eagerness to get back at Evan had made Raven seem more attractive that she was in reality. The truth is, my memory didn’t serve her justice in the least.
Words escape me a touch too long as I’m lost in the vision before me. “Too much?” she asks, and her voice brings me back to her gorgeous gaze.
“Miss Hill, you look…” I clear my throat, steadying myself.
“Please, Raven,” she speaks as I hesitate.
“Raven,” I correct myself, “you look absolutely beautiful.” Behind the door, I hear a hushed squeal. I arch a brow, guessing at the noise. “Roommate?”
An auburn head and blue eyes sneak around the edge of the door to look at me, and the woman gives a short wave. “Hi.” She appears to be around the same age as Raven, who’s several years younger than I am.
Raven doesn’t offer an introduction, so I follow her lead and simply say, “Hello.” Looking back at Raven, I ask, “Are you ready?”
“Yes. See you when I get home, Maggie,” Raven says, a hint of warmth coming to her voice. They’re obviously more than just roommates. They’re friends as well.
The two exchange a look I’m not quick enough to discern, and then Raven smiles warmly as she steps into the hallway with me, closing the door behind her. For the first time, I’m alone with Raven. Even in these less than five-star environments, with industrial grade overhead lighting and plain walls that seem to make everything a little dingy, she looks gorgeous. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”
