“I’m sorry. I thought I just heard in a room full of business partners that my father wants me, a forty-seven-year-old man, to marry within the next six months in order to take over the role that is my birthright. Forgive me for being a little shocked.”
Mr. Hoffman raised the letter and resumed once again.
“I have written a separate letter to my son to explain the reasons behind this decision. This will come as a shock to many, not least to Lior and my dear Mathilda, but I truly believe this stipulation is the right thing to do. While my body is slowly giving in to this awful illness, my mind is sound.Mr. Hoffman will be able to answer all your questions and how this transition might affect each of you.”
Mr. Hoffman put the letter down and opened the file in front of him.
I stood. “Is this a joke?”
“I assure you it’s not, Mr.—”
“Call me Lior.” I paced the room. “What happens if I don’t do it?”
“If you aren’t married six months from today, your father’s shares will go on the market, and you will receive the dividend.”
“What about the museum?”
“The museum is tied to the company.”
He didn’t have to say anything else. I’d lose my home.
Noah
I’d been staring at the same page on my computer browser for at least ten minutes. When I saw the photo, I immediately looked up to ensure no one had seen it. Stupid, since I was in my office, so only I could see my screen.
Also, because, one, no one knew what had happened that day at the hotel, and two, there was nothing wrong about checking a prospective client’s website.
It’d been three whole weeks since I’d stared at those dark eyes, and not a day had gone by without me thinking about his dick filling me up. His hand on my throat. His raspy voice in my ear, commanding me to come.
It could be because we’d kept things anonymous. The secrecy was hot as hell. Or that I knew it would never happen again. But that night was imprinted in my brain and refused to let go.
All I could do was jack off daily in front of my window while staring out at the hotel room balcony like a pervert. And while it didn’t hold a candle to the real thing, it was the best I could do. The only thing I could do. Until now. Until his face had appeared on my computer.
Lior Van Stern.
The man had a sexy name to go with his broody face, hot body, and big dick.
I was so fucked.
The Cliffborough Stained Glass Museum was looking for a PR and marketing agency to help them with the launch of the new range of summer workshops they were offering to the public.
The museum had been on my hit list for a while. As the account director at the agency, my job was to look after our existing clients and scout for business.
These days, I spent more time looking after our current clients than looking for new ones, thanks to our reputation for delivering creative and successful campaigns that yielded results. But I was always looking to expand our client base.
Van Stern Enterprises was very much a goal in that respect.
What the fuck was I going to do?
There was no way we could afford to ignore an inquiry from the museum. VSE was a huge company, and this could be the break we needed to hit it big.
Working with them would give us our pick of high-profile projects in the future.
Since our company’s inception, my brothers and I had always wanted to offer pro bono services to small businesses. Help them get off the ground and get visibility with a good campaign. We could only do this if we had enough income from other projects.
I needed to think about this, but first, I needed some distance, so I closed the browser and shut down my computer. “On your way out?”
I jumped when I saw Adam leaning against my office door. “Jesus fuck, Adam.”
