The elevator dings open, making my gaze fly upward halfway through typing the message.
Butterflies somersault inside my stomach when I come face to face with Nathan. There’s no one inside the car but him.Dressed to kill in a light gray Brioni suit and his hair slicked back stylishly, he takes my breath away.
Our eyes lock with a magnetic pull.
His stormy eyes darken as soon as he realizes which floor I am on. In the next breath, I’m yanked inside the elevator and backed into a far corner.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nathan
I slap the emergency button before rounding on Arya.
She is the last person I expected to see at my company, much less on my father’s floor. I snatch the business card from her hand after reading his name at the top.
“Meeting my father behind my back, angel?” I bark coldly. “What for?”
“Don’t jump to the wrong conclusions,” she sasses, unperturbed by the menacing energy rolling off me. “I was tricked into a meeting with him set up by your assistant Erika.”
I arch one eyebrow, demanding an explanation.
With an irritated sigh, she replies, “I received a text from her saying Mr. Singhania would like to meet with me at eleven o’clock. I automatically assumed it was you. It wasn’t until I got here that I learned the Mr. Singhania she was talking about was your father.”
“And it didn’t make you suspicious after I’ve told you numerous times that we will never meet here?”
“I… um… didn’t know where we stood after last night.” A tiny shrug. “I thought you were distancing yourself.”
A sexual revert is on the tip of my tongue, but this isn’t the time for that. “Call or text me next time.”
“I was coming to tell you what happened.”
“Don’t worry, we will discuss everything.”
Her brown eyes go round at the dark note in my voice. I use her nervous silence to admire her slim figure from the top of her head to the tip of her red-painted toenails peeking from her heels.
Last night, she was in a bold gown that left a little to the imagination. I had to fight a hard-on every time I caught a glimpse of her thigh through the daring slit. It was a shock to my system to learn she didn’t have any panties on underneath.
A sexy little minx hides beneath her good girl demeanor.
Today, she’s dressed conservatively in a burgundy blouse and a long pencil skirt. Her shoulder-length hair frames her round face and cherry pink lips. Shiny and wavy with dark brown highlights.
I like how she isn’t wearing heavy makeup, just enough to accentuate her natural beauty. Will I ever see what she looks like without it? With her pouty lips pink and swollen from my harsh kisses? A blush brought on by my filthy words in her ear?
With her hair messy from my fingers pulling at it or fanned out on my pillow while I fuck her missionary?
Fuck! Stop.
Dangerous wishes to dream.
As I dial back on my thoughts, I notice her breathing has gone shallow. The uneven rise and fall of her lush breasts are unmistakable. Biting the corner of her lip, she stares hard at my chest. Highlighting how close we’re standing.
I remind myself to focus on the matter at hand, not on whether or not she’s wearing panties under her skirt. It’s tightand fitted to her subtle curves. She did mention she hates wearing a thong. Since I can’t make out any panty lines, does that mean…
Don’t go there.
Running a hand over my mouth, I take a step back. Immediately hating it when her perfume becomes a little fainter. For some odd reason, it keeps me calm. The itch to crawl out of my skin lessens.
She slowly raises her head, meeting my gaze. Mistaking my hard expression for disbelief, she scowls.
