I want her in here.
I want her to watch me countersign her employment contract.
I want to see her expression when she realizes how real this is. And that I’m not letting her go.
With the phone still in hand, I add her to my contact list and press Dial. Now that I’ve had a taste of her, patience will never be a virtue.
One ring. A second.
I picture her in that ridiculous outfit that I want to strip off her curvy body. No doubt her hair will be tied back as she’s scrubbing some shower, her beautiful mouth full of curses that should be wrapped around something better.
Finally she answers, and her voice hits me like the first taste of bourbon after a dry spell.
“Hello?”
“Blackwell.”
She exhales long and slow. “How did you get this number?”
I almost smile. Almost.
Then she sighs. “Rafe Sterling? Isn’t that against some kind of law?”
“Wasn’t Rafe. Bastard wouldn’t give it up.” And I’d tried last night when I couldn’t sleep. “Said he was protecting your identity.”
“So how did you get it?”
“I have resources.”
In the background, I hear something that could be a bottle of cleaner spraying something. The sound of a woman trying to keep her world upright while I’m here, ripping the foundation out from under her.
“You have the contract. I expect you at your desk in under an hour.”
Her laugh is sharp and incredulous. “You expect me to just drop everything and waltz into your precious empire? I still have to finish cleaning your penthouse, Mr. Blackwell.”
She’s in my penthouse? Quickly I check my watch. “I can be there in ten minutes.”
“No!” There’s panic in her tone.
“Then get someone to cover for you. I’ll let Rafe know.”
“That’s not?—”
“Less than an hour, Ms. Hollis.”
Her unspoken, “Or else?” hangs in the air like she doesn’t know I’d tear the city apart just to drag her back if she tries to run.
Chapter Six
Xavier
She’s late.
Impatience snaps at me, a live wire under my skin as I pace my office. Allen Parkway glints below, joggers weaving through the humid haze like ants, oblivious to the anger brewing in my chest. The reception desk outside my glass walls sits empty, a silent taunt. Seraphina should be there, her vanilla scent curling through the sterile air, her sharp mind mine to command. Instead, I’m pouring my own damn coffee, the machine gurgling like it’s mocking me.
My phone buzzes, and security’s number flashes on the screen. I snatch up the device. “Blackwell.”
“Ms. Hollis is in the lobby, sir. You told us to notify you when she arrived.” The guard’s voice is stiff.
