Page 153 of Off Limits Mogul

‘KEIRA WEATHERLY. DRAMATIC NEW LOOK. SAME LEVEL OF HOTNESS’

More fucking drama to add to the list.

Keira was certain she was incognito. She probably was until last night. When the spotlight shines on Addison Moody, no one is spared.

When I got to my office, Cecilia wasn’t her usual cool self. Dare I say, she looked frazzled. Calls from the press were pouring in. It wasn’t even ten in the morning and the day was spinning out of control. As much as I hated being dragged into Addison’s circus act, I had to rein things in and protect Keira.

I had no other choice but to open up to Beckett andArianne. With some quick and ingenuous thinking, Arianne came up with a plan. The three of us had an emergency meeting with our marketing team and our point person at the PR firm. An hour later, we managed to redirect the unwanted attention to an upcoming splashy mystery announcement––SCORE Yours.

Once that was dealt with, I was able to dive into a mountain of pressing work. By mid-afternoon, I decided to check in with Keira and Noah. Neither of the Weatherly siblings was willing to bury the hatchet.

Fuck that.

After work, I considered dropping by the Quintus Hotel––I was this close from getting a room for the night––but decided against it. There’s no way I’m going to allow a pint-size impatient, headstrong hellion to lock me out of my own damn home.

As I enter the house from the garage, I pull out my phone and send said hellion a text.

Rhys

I’m here.

Keira

It’s your house. You don’t need my permission to come and go.

I let out a frustrated grunt.

I can’t win with her.

Before stepping into the kitchen, I kick off my shoes and remove my socks. Loosening my tie, I make my way to the bar cart.

Drinking on the job sets an appalling example. Drinking after a shitty day is a requirement to maintain one’s sanity.

I’m just about to let an expensive gulp of scotch mellow out the tension when the doorbell rings.

What now?

I drop the tumbler on the bar cart and march to the door, ready to chew up the security guard who dared to show up at my door unannounced.

This better be an emergency.

I don’t bother looking through the peephole. I swing the door open. The last person I expected to see after his stormy exit is standing at my door. The tornado I saw earlier in his eyes has tapered down to a mild simmer.

I get to live another day.

“Hey,” Noah says.

I don’t bother with niceties. “You must be here to pick up your suitcase,” I say with a detached voice. “Let me grab it––”

“No.” I expect him to hurl insults. “Nice suit,” he says, “Must’ve cost a lot.” His eyes brush the length of my body.

What the fuck? He was raging and now he wants to talk about fashion?

“It’s bespoke.”

“I guess you went to work.”

“I had to get out of here. Your sister is giving me attitude and the cold shoulder.”