It’s Rush.
His shirt is open, his hair looks like he’s combed his fingers through it several times.
I turn the lock and open the door. “Everything all right?”
“There is a discrepancy in the numbers submitted to us by the city.” He pushes into my apartment, his laptop in hand.
I blink at him, my lips falling open. Apparently, this is part of the safe-place-to-live bargain. Drop-ins from the boss. Softly, I close the door and follow him to my dining area.
Opening my laptop, I quickly locate the email he’s referring to. His laptop is next to mine on the table as he reads over my shoulder.
I scan my gaze down the rows of columns, realizing that he’s right. “Clerical error?” I ask, leaning closer to the screen.
“Intentional sabotage,” he rumbles. “Fucking Vigo.”
I stiffen, pressing my lips together to keep from making noise. Buying off a city official to falsify a report that would shut down the whole deal is the exact kind of move my ex-husband would make. Honestly, he’d do much worse than that. “What are you going to do?”
He straightens, his hands scrubbing down his face. “My brothers are here because they think I’m going to fail.”
“Brothers?” Only Gris has been in the office.
“Killian doesn’t like offices, but he’s in New York.”
If Vigo talked about Rush in tones of irritation laced with awe, he spoke of Killian with actual fear. I turn back in my chair to look up at him. “What can be done to correct the report?”
He looks down at me, one of his hands coming to my cheek.
I gasp this time, as his thumb brushes over my skin. “So soft,” he murmurs. My eyes are glued to his, I can’t look away, but I sense the danger.
“Mr. Smith,” I breathe out, trying to add some distance.
“Rush,” he corrects. “Mr. Smith is for the office, Gigi.”
I shake my head. This is a bad idea. I don’t want to date, and I would never compromise Emma’s safety by jeopardizing my position here at Smith Brothers. I stand, but that’s a mistake, my chest brushing his.
I try to step back but hit the chair and then try to correct by skittering to the side. But that throws off my balance, my arms rising to try and regain my balance. His arm wraps around me, pulling me to his front to steady me.
But the feel of him makes me go haywire. He’s hard, his muscles pushing into the softer planes of my body. My hands come to his pecs, another mistake.
I had every intention of pushing him away but the rippling muscles of his chest…
I gasp, my gaze flying to his as my chin notches up. “I…” I start, wetting my lips with my tongue. “I think it’s better if I call you Mr. Smith.”
But one of his hands is around my back, the other on my face, his palm cupping my jaw. “I heard you today. You’re not dating.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head, his palm brushing my skin. “I’m not.”
“Me either,” he says and then he leans down, his lips brushing mine. I nearly moan at how good a simple brush of his mouth feels.
It’s been so long and I had no idea I wanted to be touched so much. But I’ve got to keep my head. Which is why I say against his lips, “This job. I need it. I…” I don’t even know what I’m asking.
He pulls back and looks down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable as he moves his thumb across my lips. His arm around my back tightens, his fingers splaying out on the exposed skin between the top of my yoga pants and the bottom of my cropped T-shirt. “Then we’ve got a problem.”
“We do?” I cry, starting to pull away.
He holds me tight, not letting me go. “Because you’re right. We can’t do anything that compromises your job.”
A rush of air leaves my lungs, as relief makes me slump, my body pressing deeper into his. “Thank you. Working at Smith Brothers is ideal and I would not want to risk my position here.”
