“To Fortis,” they echo.
An hour later, I’m squinting at an email about server configurations when there’s a knock on my office door. I look up to find my most handsome client leaning against the doorframe with a massive bunch of flowers: deep purple irises tucked among blush-pink roses.
My stomach flutters. Other parts of me do fluttery things too.
My fingers pause over my keyboard, forgotten.
The flutters never go away. I’ve accepted this as a permanent condition. Even when I’m ninety-three in some nursing home, wearing velour tracksuits and complaining about the texture of porridge, I’ll pull out faded photos of Patrick McLaren and feel the flutters. Even after he’s dead, because statistically, men die first.
“You don’t have an appointment.” I straighten in my chair, tugging at the hem of my cream silk blouse where it’s come untucked from my navy trousers, trying to project a stern CEO vibe.
“So now you’re a big shot, you don’t have time for your first client?” That smirk curves his mouth.
“Depends on what he’s after.” I wave vaguely at my laptop screen. “I’m very busy.”
He pushes off the doorframe and crosses my office, coming around my desk and settling against the edge, one long leg stretched out, the other bent. His thigh is inches from my keyboard.
I lean forward, inhaling the flowers’ scent—sweet roses and the sharper, almost peppery smell of irises—then take them from him and set them on my desk. “They’re beautiful. But completely inappropriate from a client.”
“Damn.” His voice drops lower. “I was hoping they’d do the trick.”
My mouth twitches despite my best efforts. “Do the trick?”
“I was hoping to christen your new desk.” His eyes drop to the polished wood surface between us, then back to my face.
This man is so horny all the time; I don’t know how he gets any work done. Does he have a calendar reminder that says, “2 p.m.: earnings review, also think about shagging Georgie on office furniture”?
I’m starting to think his legendary business acumen is just displaced sexual energy that occasionally manifests as good investment decisions.
I purse my lips. “Absolutely not. I’m outraged. Scandalized, in fact. This is a professional workplace.”
I glance through my office door at Roy and Alya, who are finishing the last of the champagne with the building’s cleaner, who’s apparently joined Thirsty Thursday. They’re laughing about something, completely oblivious.
“That’s not the type of place I run here,” I hiss, trying to sound authoritative. “There’s no debauchery in my company. We have policies. And a relaxation nook.”
He winks. “You’re no fun. I preferred when you were intimidated by me.”
“No, you didn’t.” I narrow my eyes at him.
His expression softens, the smirk fading into something gentler. I’ve won that point.
“I got an email from an old uni mate today,” I say, changing the subject before my brain gets too distracted by his proximity and the way he’s looking at me in my office.
He shifts his weight against the desk, moving closer. “Oh yeah?”
“My ex, Steve has been fired from his tutor job.” I watch his face carefully. “Do you know anything about that?”
The smirk returns. “Why would I know anything about that? Surely the guy got himself fired. Poor performance. Toxic workplace behavior. These things happen.”
“Patrick.”
He leans in, close enough that his lips brush the shell of my ear when he speaks, and goosebumps race down my arms. “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart. I didn’t get to where I am today without being a little ruthless sometimes.”
His hand slides to my waist, thumb pressing against my hip bone through my sensible CEO trousers. “And you really don’t want to cross someone I love. Really, really bad idea. Because I take care of what’s mine. Always.”
I visibly shiver. That’s hot. Also slightly terrifying and maybe a little bit mafia boss, but primarily hot. Very, very hot.
My eyes dart to the door, to Roy and Alya still chatting with the cleaner. Maybe if they leave soon, wecouldhave a little christening party on this desk. Just to show appreciation for my first and most valued client and make him feel special. Definitely legitimate business reasons.
