Each of my brothers has an iron-clad role in the company. That’s why I was sent to New York.
This is my chance to prove I deserve a seat at the table, which is why I’m not fucking it up by dating. Even a woman as gorgeous as Gigi.
Besides, her deferential nature makes her an excellent choice for my assistant. I want someone who is willing to do as I say without a thousand questions.
And then there is her law knowledge. She understood three times as much in this morning’s meeting as any assistant I’ve had prior to her.
Truthfully, she ought to be placed in legal, and likely would have been, if I hadn’t interceded.
But since she’s smart and talented enough to work for me, I might as well stare at her gorgeous ass and amazing tits while I’m practicing celibacy.
But if my brother thinks he’s hitting that, he’s got another thing coming.
Gigi catches my gaze, her chin dropping, the smile disappearing from her lips. Gris’s brows lift as he looks at me. Then, he follows me into my office, where I slam the door closed.
“Is it just me, or do your assistants keep getting hotter?” he asks, ignoring the force I used to close the door, as he makes his way over to the leather sofa that sits under a large bank of windows.
“I will call Arabella,” I growl back, knowing that I won’t. Youngest brothers learn there is nothing worse than being a snitch. I’d get pummeled on the regular by my older brothers growing up, but if I told…then it was three times as bad the next time.
Makes a man tough.
“Relax,” he says, lounging across the couch. “My wife is all the woman I can handle.”
“Good. Because I hired Ms. Hope because she is talented, not because she’s attractive.” I move around my desk, tossing myself into my chair.
I’ve been on edge since coming to New York. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m not dating, or the move.
Or maybe it’s because I’ve got everything to prove.
But mostly I think it’s due to Vigo fucking Sinclair.
That Mafia capo wanted the Jersey deal for himself. Since I blocked him, he’s made my life difficult any and every way he’s been able.
From keying my car, to blocking my permits, he’s been a real prick.
I know he thinks I ought to be intimidated. In Vegas every manner of criminal has attempted to take our business or our lives…or both.
He doesn’t scare me, but he is pissing me off.
“That’s total bullshit, little brother.” Gris puts his feet up on the Italian leather sofa, stretching his long frame out on the cushions. “I haven’t seen you look at a woman with that kind of intensity for a long time.”
My lip curls. “Mind your business, Gris.” The truth is, he’s right. Last night, I fell asleep to the fantasy of Gigi sucking my cock and I woke up to a dream where I had her bent over that very couch, her ass on full display.
Maybe hiring her was a bad idea. And moving her into the only other apartment that’s on the same floor as mine…
Technically, she hasn’t moved in yet. I could still change my mind. But I’m not going to. I never do.
But also, I just like the idea of Ms. Hope being close.
The fact that her bedroom wall is next to mine, my hand spreads out on my desk. I wonder what she sleeps in…
My interoffice phone chimes. I lift my hand from the cool wood, pressing the button. “Ms. Hope?”
“Your brother, Mr. Killian Smith, is on line one.”
“Just Killian,” I say automatically. “He’s not a last-name kind of guy.”
“Of course,” she murmurs and then her line goes dead.
