Page 70 of Watching Her

More intimate time. What I had in mind would break down another wall of her defenses.

In my mind, it was obvious Covington’s plan was to win the bidding war in Paris. That would ding our reputation. However, I had a feeling they had their sights set on something much bigger.

The conversations with the investors in Hong Kong were in the preliminary stages at this point, no contracts drawn up. We’d be going out on a limb in building a resort-style hotel from the ground up. The investment was significant. Given the time and effort already involved, we’d spent millions. If we went through the hassles only to be tossed from the project after we’d laid the groundwork, our reputation would be in the toilet. Yet there was no indication that’s what was happening.

Which left me on edge and angry most of the time.

I forced my attention to return to the financials sent to me late last night. It was after ten and I’d yet to sign off on them. Why? Because I continued to think about my plans for the evening.

For her.

Because she’d trusted me to share one of her secret joys.

Not being tied and flogged or primal hunting in the woods.

Something much more mundane and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I was eager to enjoy spending time with her in a way I’d never done with a woman before.

Dates had always been a means to an end. Spending money on a nice dinner, even taking the family jet to another city had become pedestrian but expected.

She’d crawled under my skin. Enough so I’d made a quick and potentially frivolous decision that had yet to reach the employees. What the fuck was wrong with me? Maybe I needed to think along the lines of Sebastian and settle down.

As of late, the business at hand hadn’t managed to hold my interest. Which was why I shifted to the internet, pulling up the password-protected application I’d installed on my personal office laptop.

Whereas I normally spent twelve plus hours a day ensuring every aspect of business on every continent was running smoothly, in the last two weeks, I’d become increasingly bored, turning to watching her instead.

I’d followed her twice, but honestly, the appeal of physically stalking her no longer held the same interest either. Plus, there was no need, especially since she spent so much time on her computer. While I completely understood an entrepreneurial spirit, she was struggling. Yes, she was extremely creative, her graphic design skills exemplary, but she could work in the marketing department of several hospitality companies and hotel chains and command mid-level six figures.

Every day she was gaining momentum, which also meant every day I wanted to draw her deeper into my world. The idiocy of feeling as if she was slipping away haunted my nights as much as being determined to possess her fueled my days. If I wasn’t careful, I’d lose all sense of control. That wasn’t acceptable.

Whatever had soured her on her former profession had also given her a distinct drive. At least the number of followers had grown steadily, but at the rate she was going, she’d run through her savings account in less than a year.

I’d toyed with asking her to work with me, but what fun would that be? Besides, that would break one of few rules I’d laid out for myself. Although the fact she’d been close to George Covington presented an opportunity that my younger self would have required to happen and he would have crushed her small business, ensuring she had no choice but to accept my offer.

Was I actually going to use the company rules as an excuse to feed my conscience? No involvement with employees no matter how far down on the food chain they were. Too complicated. Too messy.

Christ. Was I becoming soft?

I already knew she was working on building her company even as I debated crushing it. I’d gotten notification of movement by six-thirty that morning. Other than getting coffee and some fruit for breakfast, she’d been behind her computer the entire time. Yes, I’d indulged in watching her more than once.

Which was what I was doing right now. With the warm weather lingering, she’d pulled on shorts and a tee shirt, her hair in a high ponytail. I’d had one too many visions of using it as a leash when I fucked her over my desk.

The more I watched her, the angrier I became. Whoever had hurt her before deserved to pay a hefty price. And I wasn’t talking about George Covington, even though the more I thought about the situation with Paris, the more I craved shattering any peace in his retirement.

Since cloning her computer, I’d learned a great deal about the romance industry, including that the profession was as cutthroat as mine. I’d had no idea which was something Xander had told me and I hadn’t believed. I’d watched her work through several issues in dealing with Amazon to setting up a few additional business accounts.

She certainly didn’t let anyone get the better of her.

Perhaps with the exception of a few jerks she’d had to deal with. There were always nasty people on the internet and it was sheer joy in watching how she handled them.

The light rap on the door indicated my assistant was right on time, as she usually was.

“Come.”

She appeared perplexed as to why I’d have her call a courier service. “Express Couriers just arrived.”

I reached into my drawer, pulling out the note I’d written. “You have her address?”

“Absolutely.” With her wry smile, it was apparent I wasn’t as adept at hiding my interests as I’d once been.