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I laugh, "We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it."

That’s when there’s a knock on my office door.

22

Lena

I haven’t seen the alphahole in three days. Three full days when it hasn’t mattered how early I woke up, by the time I went down to the kitchen, he’d left. I’d tried to see him at work but Karen had informed me, with unwarranted glee, that he was busy. JJ was being a bitch, and I hated it. In fact, it made me so angry that after being turned down yet again by Karen, I grabbed my tablet with the urgent information I needed to share with him, then marched past her and rapped on the door to his office.

"Hey, stop!" She jumps up from her seat, but I shove the door open, step in, and come to a stop.

The men and one woman seated around the table swivel their heads in my direction. Oh, shoot, he really was in a meeting, huh?

"Umm, sorry?" I begin to sidle back toward the door when Karen pops her head around me.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Kane. I tried to stop her, but she kept going, I—"

"It’s fine, Karen," he says without taking his gaze off of me.

"If you want me to tell her to leave—"

"You can go now."

"Okay. Awesome." I turn to leave when his voice rumbles behind me.

"Not you, Lena."

Oh shit. Next to me, Karen shoots me a nasty look. I glower right back at her. She retreats out the door, and shuts it behind her. I draw in a breath, square my shoulders, then spin around.

"I wanted to ask you about the Delancey pitch, but it really wasn’t urgent.” I shuffle my feet. “It can wait."

"Why don’t you come on in and take a seat?" He gestures to me.

"Eh?" I glance around the room, taking in the curious faces of those around the table. "Really, it’s nothing important."

"Important enough to barge in, at any rate." His lips twist. Douchebag smirks as if he knows exactly how frustrated I am that I couldn’t get an appointment to see him. And how urgent it was to get his signoffs so I didn’t miss the deadline on this particular proposition. And that’s the only reason I’m pissed off with him. That’s all, I swear.

"Besides, my guests were leaving," JJ drawls.

"That’s true." The man seated next to JJ rises to his feet. He nods at JJ, then turns away from the table and heads for the door. It’s Declan Beauchamp, whose face is on the cover of almost every tabloid and online magazine, thanks to his recent streaming hit. I try my best not to stare at him, but as he passes by, he winks, and I flush. The others rise to their feet, too. One of them seems vaguely familiar. Maybe I saw something written about him in business magazines? He’s wearing a tailor-made suit and is handsome in a standoffish kind of way. I also recognize a potential prime ministerial candidate, another man with dark looks and a swarthy countenance, as well as the man next to him who I’m almost sure belongs to the mob—not that I know what a mob boss looks like, but there’s something about him that screams predator. I step back and give them a wide berth as they head toward the exit.

The only other woman among them is tall, statuesque with a striking mane of dark hair that flows past her shoulders. She sniffs at Hunter as she brushes past him and heads out the door. The fine hair on the nape of my neck rises. I know he’s watching even before I turn and my gaze clashes with those black holes that arehiseyes. Only this time, there’s something burning in their depths. The nerve at his temple pops. Is he angry with me because I broke up his meeting? Not that I asked him to. I did offer to leave, didn’t I? So why is he looking at me like he’s about to shout 'off with her head'? I scowl at him.

He sets his jaw, then crooks his finger at me. "Come 'ere," he growls.

My stomach seems to hollow out. A frisson of awareness runs up my spine. I try to move, but my feet are stuck to the floor.

"Lena," he says in a hard voice, then points to the space in front of him.

I blink rapidly, forcing myself to move. I close the distance between us, and stop when I’m in front of him. "I swear I didn’t mean to intrude on your meeting."

"Sure, you did. You were feeling left out, weren’t you?"

"What? No," I choke out. "I was worried about the deadline on the Delancey project, that’s all."

"Hmm." He looks me up and down. "Fine, I believe you."

"You do?"


Tags: L. Steele Arranged Marriage Erotic