“The unlisted ones?” Suddenly, I’m far more interested in this meeting, and I try to ignore the stares and hushed whispers.
“Yes. You’ll see why they’re unlisted in a moment. Oh, and—”
Owen suddenly halts and grabs my arm, turning me to face him. I tilt my head to meet his eyes.
“My brother runs this division,” he continues. “You’ll have to work with him.”
“Why do you seem so worried about that, Mr. Mills?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
He laughs awkwardly, dropping his hand from my arm and looking away. “My brother can be shameless?”
“Is that a question? Or is he shameless?”
Owen grins. “He’s shameless.”
“So it runs in the family?”
“You are—” he starts, but we’re interrupted by a deep, sultry voice.
“Now, who’s this beautiful thing? Who have you been hiding from me, brother?”
I look over to find a stunning man standing only a few feet away. The similarities in stature and bone structure are obvious, but Parker’s hair is blond, long, and wavy, and his skin is a few shades lighter. His eyes are hazel, not green, and locked on me.
He runs his gaze from my head to my toes. I hate when men do that, but for some reason, I’m not all that upset when Parker Mills does it.
“This is my new charity management assistant, Nora Riley. She’ll be helping with the gala and the charities,” Owen says through gritted teeth, apparently noticing his brother's wandering eyes.
“So we’ll be working closely?” He sounds so thrilled that I almost laugh.
Owen catches my half-snort but quickly switches his attention back to Parker. “Yes. She’ll be owning your ass, little brother.”
He raises a brow, intrigued. “Is that so?”
I scoff, walking past the two men and into the conference room, unsure how they both make me more flustered than I’ve ever felt. I’ve assassinated notorious killers for fucks’ sake.
I’m aware of the eyes tracking me while I stride to an open seat. They aren't the stares I’m expecting, though. These aren’t high-strung execs; these are everyday people. People from all walks of life. Even children.
The next thing I know, a small boy, no more than four years old, squeals with excitement and races to the door, leaping into Owen’s arms. Owen smiles broadly and catches the boy, tugging him close and whispering something in his ear. The boy laughs and plants a wet kiss on Owen’s cheek before Owen places him back on the ground. A woman, who appears to be the boy's mother, approaches Owen. She says something I don’t catch, and Owen leans over and embraces her.
Parker observes me with a bemused expression. “Not what you expected, Miss Riley?”
I peel my eyes from the scene to meet a matching dimple on Parker's cheek.
Damn it.
“No,” I say truthfully. “I was expecting tight-ass execs or more arrogant asses like you and your brother.” Without waiting for his reaction, I find my seat, but not before I hear Parker bark out a laugh behind me.
Owen takes the seat to my left. Not a second later, Parker claps his brother on the shoulder, angling his head toward me. “I like her. Mostly because you have no chance.”
I have no idea what that means, but I could guess. I decide not to give it much thought.
Parker winks at me before taking a seat on the opposite side of Owen. Owen glances over, and I pretend to be busy organizing my notes on each charity, not wanting to think about either of the Mills men.
“I know I don’t,” Owen replies so quietly that I’m the only one who hears it.
For unknown reasons, my heart picks up speed.
“Owen!” The young boy races over, providing a needed distraction. “I forgot! I made this for you!”
