“I’ll wait.” His voice drifts farther away. “I’ll sit out here and wait until you’re done. I have some ideas to throw at you.”
“Oh my god.” Linny’s hands fist the front of my shirt. “He’s going to see me in here. He’ll know what we just did. Is there a back way out of your office?”
I brush my lips against hers. “I’ll handle it. You’re not crawling out of a window. It would be hell trying to repel thirty-six floors down the side of the building in those heels.”
Her hand darts to her mouth to silence her laugh.
“I’ll let him buy me a drink. One shot of vodka.” I make quick work of my belt. “You stay here until the coast is clear.”
“ I’m sorry ,” she mouths, her chin dipping toward the sizable bulge in my pants.
I shrug into my suit jacket. “Next time, angel. There will be a next time. Soon.”
I kiss her one last time before I open my office door just wide enough that I can slip through without the risk of Mitchell catching a glimpse of what’s inside.
Chapter 31
Linny
“Hey Linny, I spent the last few hours with Jeremy Weston.”
I look up to see Mitchell standing in the open doorway of my office with a smug grin on his face.
I glance down at the small silver clock that sits on the corner of my desk. It’s one of the few things I inherited from my granddad. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
His gaze drops to his watch. “It’s not even five p.m.”
“Dad told me that you like to get in your jammies and watch Netflix before dinner.”
His face reddens. “I did that once when I was sick. He stopped by my place with chicken soup.”
That sounds like my dad. He’s been my hero all of my life. I’m not surprised that he’d step up to become Mitchell’s too since his own father took off before he was born.
“What did you and Jeremy talk about this afternoon?” He takes it upon himself to walk into my office so he can plop down in one of the white leather chairs in front of my desk.
“Make yourself at home,” I say sarcastically.
My tone is lost on him since his gaze is glued to the screen of his phone. “Dave put me in charge of the Vrite Footwear campaign.”
I paste a smile on my face even though I’m seething inside. I worked hard to land that account and now it’s in Mitchell’s incompetent hands.
My silence lures his gaze back up. “It pisses you off, doesn’t it?”
“What?” I ask casually.
“That I’m in charge of that account.” He taps the back of his phone case on the edge of my desk. “That I’m up for the promotion. That you’re going to have to answer to me in a few months.”
I’m mostly pissed off that I’ve worked hard for years, devoting myself to the family business at every turn and it may have all been a waste of time. There’s a strong possibility that I’ll be passed over to lead it.
Mitchell doesn’t let up. “That I’m the son your dad always wanted.”
That one stings. He knows it, but I refuse to show it.
“What are your plans for the Vrite campaign?” I shoot him a look, knowing that he won’t have an answer.
“What are your plans for the Rizon launch party?” he counters with a sneer. “Jeremy said that you were still working out the small details. You should get a move on, don’t you think?”
You should go to hell.