That lethal smile, brighter than the sunshine, grows into a grin that spreads across her face. Her eyes soften like she might just see me as more than the donkey who never wanted her to have a chance.
More than the dolt full of demons who pressed her up against a hospital wall on an appalling day and kissed her until she moaned.
If my train wreck of a life hadn’t grounded me along with my fear for Grandma and bad memories of the woman I wanted to call my wife...who the fuck knows what would’ve happened.
I’m the luckiest human scum on Earth.
She should have quit then, leaving me no chance of getting through this with her.
“See? I knew you could do it. You’re better with pretty words than you give yourself credit for.”
For a second, my breath stalls, and I’m lost in her sparkling forests for eyes.
I’m about to shrug it off when Nick blows through my office door.
“Bro, it’s like a morgue out—” His eyes land on Paige and he stops. His gaze traces from her to me. “You two have been getting along much better since the hospital.”
He casts his eyes down her body.
Idiot.
Jealousy coursing, I want to punch him, but then I realize he’s staring at her feet. She’s wearing the same gaudy slippers I put over her feet the first time at the hospital after removing those damn heels myself. He looks at me again, but it’s a silent accusation.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Did you need something?”
“I was going to say it’s a bad vibe out there. We have to do something.”
“That’s the plan.” Paige stands, flicking at her hair, her eyes pure mischief again. “Ward said he’ll take care of it and he won’t let us down.”
“He did?” Nick looks at me.
There’s something in her tone. Even if it puts me on the spot—annoying as ever—it’s so cute I want to laugh again. The statement is almost a defense to Nick’s silent accusation.
“Captain Obvious, I’m aware morale’s suffering. Some of our people started with Grandma when she opened this company.” I look at Paige. “Miss Holly—Paige—was just leaving.”
She blushes when I correct her name, and moves toward the door fast, no doubt hoping I don’t notice.
But fuck, I do.
“We’ve been here forever, too,” Nick says absentmindedly. “Some of them still see us as kids, and we’re just not as graceful as Grandma.”
Seriously, dealing with a petulant younger brother should not be part of being a CEO.
Paige stops at the door. “Those are some serious Louis Vuittons to fill,” she says.
“We’ve got to call Winthrope first. He needs reassurance,” Nick tells me, the first sensible thing he’s said all day. “On second thought, Paige might as well be here for it, no?”
Damn, he’s right. I’ve been putting off the call, telling myself I needed to wait until Nick could do it with me.
The truth is, I just don’t want to do it at all.
With Nick here, though, I can’t procrastinate any longer.
I look at my brother. “Nonsense. I’ll send her a summary email when it’s over. I’m sure she has work to do.”
Nick grimaces. “Dude. We have to call a weirdo who’s holding our future in his stiff little hands—”
Paige’s laugh cuts in.
“—to tell him the woman he really wanted to work with isn’t coming back, but he should still choose our company,” Nick finishes. “Yeah. I think it would be good to have someone take notes, and Paige worked with Grandma on the designs. She’s our right hand—and maybe the left one too.”
Paige flutters her lashes like he’s just bowed at her feet.
Damnation.
In the last five minutes, my playboy brother has made her laugh, and now he’s telling her what to do with her time. She’s technically his assistant, sure, but I don’t like it.
My gaze falls on her.
“If it won’t impact your workload to be here and take notes rather than reading a summary later, you’re welcome to stay. If you have things you need to do, that’s fine too.”
She shrugs. “I’ll stay. I’m not anxious to get back to the morgue.” She returns to where she sat before Nick came in and leans over my desk for a pad and pen.
Fuck me.
The way her neckline bobs into her cleavage isn’t going to be helpful at all. It’s a colossal distraction that roils my blood.
For a scalding second, I’d like to find another wall to push her against rather than make this call.
Too bad duty calls.
I suck it up, pick up the phone, and start dialing.
“Ross Winthrope here,” a very English voice answers a second later.
“Hi, Mr. Winthrope, this is Ward Brandt. We’re on speaker with Nick Brandt and Paige Holly.”
“Of course. I was going to call you boys today. I just haven’t had the time yet. I’m so dreadfully sorry to hear of Mrs. Brandt’s abrupt retirement and her recent health problems. I hope she’s doing well.”