When Max askedme to find him a realtor last week, I had no idea that would mean I’d be going with him to view properties this week. But I’ve quickly learned Max Kingston doesn’t believe in wasting time. The busy streets of Philadelphia have flown past us as we make our way around Center City for Max’s first appointment. And here I am, sitting on the buttery soft leather seat of his Range Rover, being driven by a man who looks like he could crush a walnut with his bicep, as Max and I discuss the results of the meetings he’s been holding with the heads of the departments over the last few days.
This man never stops.
He’s in the office earlier than all of us each day.
I keep trying to get in before him, but I’m sorry, it’s not happening. I’m starting to think he’s sleeping on the couch in his office. It’s a big couch. He’d fit. All six-feet-plus of his way too pretty for a man’s body. Today, he’s dressed in a dark-gray suit with a navy-blue tie that nearly matches his eyes. And if it weren’t for the tiny little pale-blue pin-dots covering the tie, I might not have noticed he’s got matching pale flecks hiding in the depths of those eyes.
And... now, I sound like a creeper.
“Daphne?”
I lean forward, knowing I’m a busted creeper. Judging by the raise of his brow, he caught me staring. I’ve been doing that a lot lately too. Max has an open-door policy and leaves his door wide open whenever he’s in his office. And I’ve got a million-dollar view of this company-stealing hottie from behind my computer.
Max Kingston looks like Jax from Sons Of Anarchy and Christian Grey made a baby.
Hot as the nine circles of hell hot.
He repeats my name.
Only... growlier.
Why does he always have to speak and ruin the fantasy?
“D.” The correction leaves my mouth before I think better of it, and I remind myself he’s my boss, and I need this job. He’s my new gatekeeper to the Revolution Foundation. Gotta play nice and stop ogling the boss.
Besides, he might hold the keys to my future with the foundation, but he’s still the ass who owns my family legacy.
A muscle ticks in his jaw before a smug smile replaces his look of annoyance.
I wrap my fingers tightly around the edges of my iPad to keep from flicking his ear the way I would Dixon’s. No touching the boss. Jesus, I’ve got to get laid. Who knew sexual frustration could manifest itself like this? Not me. That’s for sure. I mean, so it’s been six months... wait, or is it seven? And that wasn’t even good sex. Damn it.
“Did you confirm my meeting with O’Doul?” Max has his own tablet sitting in his lap and a damn smartphone in his hand. He can see I confirmed his meeting if he’d open up his schedule on either one.
I adjust my shoulders and cross my ankles like the lady I was raised to be. “Yes, Max. You’re meeting with the GM this afternoon at four. He needs to be out by five. His daughter has a soccer game tonight.” He nods his head, and I point at the screen. “If you’d checked your schedule, you would’ve seen that I took care of that this morning.”
He opens the device and hands it to me. “I did check. There’s no note.”
“Double-tap, Max.” I don’t even take the device from his hands. “You have to double-tap for the additional information.”
“Fucking double-tap,” he grumbles, more to himself than to me. “Swear to God, we need better systems. Everything used to be there before. I didn’t have to go searching.” He places the offending piece of equipment in his briefcase. “When am I meeting with the head of IT?”
“Friday,” I answer without needing to look at the calendar to know. Donya, the head of our IT department, was pissed about Dad selling the company and even more furious it was the Kingstons who bought it. She’s holding a big old grudge about something she wouldn’t share.
Max checks his watch as we sit, stopped at a red light. “Can you add software to the agenda for IT?”
“No.” His head jolts up at an unhealthy angle, and I smother a laugh. “You already asked me to put it on the agenda. I don’t need to be asked twice to do something, Max. I like to do it right the first time.”
The Rover turns into an underground parking garage for One Riverside. This building is one of the priciest in the city with a breathtaking view of the Schuylkill River. Once we’re parked, Luka gets out and opens Max’s door first, then rounds the car and opens mine.
“Oh, no. Thank you, but I’ll just wait here.” I pull my purse from the floor and reach for my phone to keep myself busy.
Max stands next to Luka, waiting for me. “No, you won’t. Come on, Daphne.” His long legs stride to the door where the bellman’s waiting, and I can’t help but wonder if this man is ever told “no.”
* * *
It’s like house-hunting with a very wealthy but very picky Goldilocks. We’ve seen three beautiful penthouses, and he hasn’t liked a single one. Too much natural light. Not enough windows. Too sterile. Too cluttered.
And my favorite so far, “The dining room isn’t big enough.”