Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
“It’s fine,” I say, smiling sweetly. “I’m not here to unionize. Just picking up a key. But for what it’s worth, if I see her name in a company Slack message timestamped after midnight, I will fly back here and stage an intervention. Possibly involving glitter.”
He stares at me. Still not speaking. But his ears have gone pink.
And I think… oh.
I got to him.
Mr. Iceberg-in-a-Tom-Ford-suit is on his heels.
I tear my eyes off him and look for the key because I shouldn’t be noticing how the fabric of his shirt stretches across his chest just right. Or how the sleeves of his jacket cling to his arms like they were custom-tailored for the sole purpose of testing my devotion to my sister.
I spot the key next to Willow’s nameplate and grab it, swinging it in circles on my finger.
“You got it all wrong,” he says as he steps forward. “Willow is an essential part of the company.”
“Sure,” I say with a breezy nod. “So essential she’s apparently not allowed to sleep or see the sun. Or eat food that didn’t come from a foil wrapper.”
His eyes narrow. “I don’t—”
“She’s too ambitious or polite or brainwashed by this place to say it,” I cut in, stepping around the desk, “so I’ll say it for her. Whatever pace you’re setting around here? It’s too much. You’re gonna drive my sister into an early grave. Just a heads-up. If you care.”
I walk right up to him, staring the six-foot monster down with zero fear. I swear, he actually leans back an inch.
That’s what’s got him so thrown. I’m not scared of him.
And that might be the most confusing thing that’s happened to Logan Strickland all year.
I offer a small, innocent smile. “It’s okay. Not everyone knows how to take care of people. You strike me more as a spreadsheets-and-profits-over-feelings type.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” I say, sweetly cutting him off again. “But hey, someone has got to pay for this stunning view and that ugly-ass gold-plated sign in the front. I get it. So what if your employees’ health is the trade-off, right? It’s all worth it for those sweet dolla dolla bills ya’ll.”
I swing the key around my index finger and then catch it in my fist.
“Nice meeting you, Mr. Cranky Pants. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an old diseased housecat to medicate.”
I give him an exaggerated smile, give him a wink because I know it will drive him crazy, grab my suitcase, and then head to the door.
Behind me, there’s nothing but stunned silence.
Poor Mr. Logan Strickland has no idea what just hit him.
CHAPTER FOUR
Logan
What the hell was that?
Seriously. My heart is pounding as I stare at the door with my jaw hanging open.
That woman…
Amber Fletcher.
She just left without looking back. She tossed a wink over her shoulder, like this is her office and I’m the one who was intruding.
I’ve never met anyone like her. She burst into my life with a suitcase, a smirk, and zero boundaries.
And it shook me to my core.
I start to get this twitchy, panicky feeling now that she’s gone. I need to see her again. I need those stunning hazel eyes back on me, judging me, goading me, demanding me to be better.
I want more of her sharp tongue. I want it to lash me—verbally and physically.
I want her.
I’m rattled. Too rattled to think straight.
She got under my skin in less than five minutes.
No. She got into my bloodstream. Into my soul. I feel the obsession taking over like a drug—instant, addictive, and already coursing through my veins.
It’s been a long time since someone has talked to me like that.
Has challenged me like that.
I’m a CEO of a Fortune 500 company. I dominate any boardroom I’m in. I strike the fear of god into anyone who shows up late to a meeting. I am the master of this place.
But apparently, Miss Amber Fletcher didn’t get the memo. She didn’t care one single bit.
And I liked it.
It made me feel… human.
It’s lonely at the top. Heavy is the crown. Those are sayings I’ve heard over the years, but you don’t really understand them until you live it.
I’m always at work, so I’m only ever surrounded by people who see me as the boss. As someone to obey. To fear.
But not Amber. She didn’t fear me at all.
And she didn’t see me as a CEO. She saw me as a man. A man who was being awfully mean to her sister.
And the thought of her seeing me in that negative way has my hands shaking.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I rush out the door with my pulse racing.
I hurry down the hall and catch up to her near the elevators.
She’s just standing there, rolling her suitcase back and forth as she stares at my huge gold-plated sign with a look of disgust on her gorgeous face.