“If you can see me blushing, Mr. Hadid,” I snap, glaring at him, “then perhaps you’re looking a little toohard.” He tips his head back and expels a husky laugh. I cross my arms, irritation spiking. “What’s so funny?”
He wipes a tear from the corner of his eyes. Or at least he pretends to do so for dramatic effect. Asshole.
“You…” He chuckles, taking a big breath, attempting to find his equilibrium. “You’re funny.” He hops off the table, straightening out his dress pants. “I’ll see you and the boys tonight, Miss Jones. And don’t worry…” He smirks down at me. “I won’t reveal your dirty little secret.”
My ears burn. “And I won’t revealyours.”
He lifts a curious brow as I sling my bag over my shoulder in a huff and walk out of the room.
I stop at the threshold, whipping my head toward him. “I’m sure the board would beverydispleased to find out their new CEO owns over a dozensex clubsaround the globe.”
He blinks, genuinely taken aback by my veiled threat. But his surprise quickly fades into amusement. “Then I suppose it would be mutually beneficial to keep our lips sealed, Miss Jones.Bothof our careers appear to be on the proverbial line.”
I hate him.
I storm into the brownstone,frustration bubbling inside my chest. The energy in the living room is oddly calm. Damon and Quinton are sitting in front of each other on two armchairs, a chessboard in between them. Their focus remains on the black and white pieces, andit’s quiet. Too quiet. That is, until I drop my bag on the ground in a huff, feeling like a damn category five hurricane that just landed.
Damon stands up abruptly, gaze narrowed on me. "What happened?" he asks, giving me a quick once over. “Are you okay?
I cross my arms, fuming. "We need to replace Amir. I can't work with that man." My stern gaze snaps between the two of them. “Oh, and we need to find a new club.”
Damon frowns, exchanging a quick glance with Quinton. "What happened? What did he do?"
"The man has no boundaries," I seethe.
Damon's expression hardens, his hand clenching into a fist. "What did he do, Emery?Did he touch you?” His gaze frantically flicks around my face and body for evidence of torture. “I’m going to kill him, I swear.”
My anger wavers for a moment. “He didn’t touch me, no, but?—”
“But what?” Damon growls, glancing back at Quin. “I told you he was going to be a problem.”
Quin takes a small breath as if calming his inner beast. “Let her finish, Damon.” He nods at me. “But what, darling?”
“He keeps smiling at me.”
Damon blinks. “Smiling?”
“Yes, smiling.”
Quin perks a brow. “And?”
I flap my arms. “And it’s annoying. Because he’s notjustsmiling at me. He’s saying, ‘I caught you doingsomething quite inappropriate and now I’ll hold it over your head for the rest of your life.’”
Damon has the fucking audacity to grin. “You’re embarrassed.”
“Of course, I’m embarrassed. I see him every day, Damon, and every day, he smiles at me. And then he has the balls to mention the club.” I perk an accusatory brow. “Apparently, we’re meant to make an appearance tonight?”
An unspoken understanding passes between Damon and Quin, and their expressions shift from concern to something more sinister. A dark amusement twinkles in their eyes as they exchange a quick glance. Ihatewhen they do that. Well…Isort ofhate it.
Damon's stiff posture relaxes as he stalks toward me, and Quin joins him, caging me between their towering frames.
"He's gotten under your skin, hasn't he, darling?" Quin murmurs against the bare slope of my neck.
Damon's fingers trail up and down my arm. "He barely saw anything, Emery. You don't need to be embarrassed."
I swallow hard, my core burning from their proximity.
Quin glances at Damon, and a beat later, he smirks. "Perhaps we should give him arealshow."
