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“Thanks, Mark,” I say, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
The walk to Declan’s office feels like one hundred miles and nothing all at once. I don’t know if I’m dreading this interaction or craving it. It’s so confusing and exciting and uncomfortable that I feel like I’m inside of an accordion, being pulled in different directions and getting all my buttons pressed.
Beth, Declan’s secretary, gives me a thin smile as soon as I arrive.
“Mr. Wright is expecting you,” she tells me, holding out her hand toward the closed door. “Go right on in.”
It’s the same door as last night, but it feels like the stakes are higher this morning. I give the same cadence of knock as I did last night, and enter.
Declan isn’t in the chair he occupied last night. He’s seated at his desk, commanding this room just like he did in the conference room. Is there a single room on this planet that he wouldn’t be in charge of? I doubt it.
“Close the door behind you,” he says sharply, and there’s nothing to do but obey, my breath loud to my own ears.
I turn back to him and take him in greedily. I couldn’t look at him during my presentation, but now, there’s nowhere I would rather gaze. The strong line of his jaw, cleanly shaven for the board members. The glint of his gray eyes, dark and smoldering. How each of the dark hairs on his head are gleaming and perfectly placed. The exact fit of his suit jacket across broad shoulders.
There’s an irresistible flash in my brain of a promised fantasy. Me bent over the desk he now spreads his hands over, Declan taking what he wants.
But then there’s a new vision: me dropping to my knees and crawling across the floor, dress and heels be damned, until I’m kneeling in front of him, his hands tangling in my hair as I wrap my lips around him.
My core warms even as I will it not to. I have no idea why I’m here in this room until he speaks.
“Do you have any fucking idea what you do to me?” he asks me suddenly.
I blink rapidly, sweat beading and gathering, until I realize that he’s actually waiting for a response. “No.”
“I was fucking hard during the entire presentation,” he snaps. “I had to dismiss everyone and ask Carol to stay just so I could get a little goddamn control.” He glowers at me. “This is a problem, Sophie.”
My stomach clenches. I remember our deal in the coffee shop restroom. That I’m hired on a trial period. That I have to prove myself. That if we find we can’t work together, then we let it go. Go our separate ways—meaning that I’m out of a job.
“Are you firing me?” I ask. “Is the trial period over?”
He hisses something between his teeth that I can only assume is a curse before shaking his head. “No. I’m not. You’re good at your job. You’ve proven that.”
He’s looking at me in that animal way. Hungry. Ready. Like I should make my peace with getting jumped right here and right now. Here’s the thing, though: I want him to do it. I want him just as much as he wants me. My skin is tingling with both desire and danger. Knowing that an entire company full of employees is on the other side of that door raises the stakes—and makes things even more delicious.
But I know now that Dynasty is Declan’s entire life. If something goes wrong in this office—even if it is deliciously wrong—it’s an affront to everything he stands for. A rebuke of all of his efforts.
I know that I need to be careful even as I take a bold step.
“What if we keep it out of the office?” I say, my voice quavering. Declan’s brows quirk and he drills a stare into me that makes me wonder if he can see my organs. “Can’t we keep business and pleasure separate?”
“Explain,” he says curtly, and boy, if I knew I’d be giving two very important presentations today, then maybe I would’ve worn my hair down instead of slicked back in a bun.
“Here, in this building, it’s business as usual,” I say. “Business as it should be. No strings. And no encounters. Outside of this office, though, it’s what we know we are.”
Those gray eyes could cut diamonds. “And what is that?”
“Two people with an incredible chemistry,” I say. “We both wanted more in San Francisco—or at least, I did. And we want more now. Why deny it? We can keep things separate. We’re two consenting adults.”
Declan pushes himself up from his desk and stalks around it. I keep very still, almost like I’m afraid he’ll pounce. He looms over me, taking my chin in his large, warm hand and tipping my face up toward his.
“Swear to me that you can keep it separate,” he says, his voice tight.
“I promise. I can.”
“This thing… if we do this, it’s only sex.” His eyes are almost frightening in their intensity, and yet I can’t look away. “I told you last night that I’m not looking for anything more. No wife. No family. And, for the record, no relationships. No love. It’s not something that interests me.”
“I understand.”
