Nigel rushed into the hotel room moments after my father took his last breath.

  I was the calm one. Nigel was panicked, but he followed my directions, never questioning the whys. He just did what I asked. I’m sure back then, his loyalty was born from his bond with my father, but we’ve found a rhythm that works for us, or I thought we had.

  After Nigel’s discussion with Juliet at lunch, I’m beginning to wonder how well I know him.

  Once he’s seated in front of my desk, I cross my arms. “Did Ares know about the bird watching?”

  Uncertainty stills his expression. His eyes widen. That’s a sure sign that Nigel’s having an internal debate.

  I’ve seen it before, dozens of times, but that’s always been during a discussion about business.

  “He introduced us to it.”

  I stare at his face as those words sink in. “My father introduced you to bird watching?”

  “He sent Golda and me on a honeymoon to Peru.” His gaze falls to his lap. “There was a park there that he had visited as a child. He bird watched with his own father during that trip.”

  It’s almost too much to process at once.

  Imagining my father in a park with a pair of binoculars strung around his neck is an image so outrageous that I can’t conjure it up.

  “Back then, before you were born, he often spoke about how he’d take his children to that same park.”

  That’s a blow because the only trips I took with my father were to destinations where he could expand his business holdings. That included jaunts to Europe, Australia, and cities all over the United States, including Miami on that fateful night.

  “His business grew,” Nigel continues. “Personal trips fell to the wayside.”

  Scrubbing a hand over the back of my neck, I let out a heavy exhale. “I didn’t know.”

  “Ares was a different man after he found success.” His tone drops. “I often wished that things were…”

  When his voice trails, I don’t push for more.

  We sit in silence for a moment.

  “Juliet is charming.” He taps a finger in the air. “Smart, insightful, and there’s her smile.”

  There’s much more to her than that but I don’t go there, because Juliet Bardin is in my life for only one reason.

  “Did you start the interview process today, sir?”

  “She asked a few questions. I answered.”

  “That is how interviews work.” He laughs.

  Stoic, I look behind him to the doorway. Soon, I’ll choose a dinner menu that Nara will prepare.

  I’m tempted to ask Nigel to join me, but I’ll be more comfortable with my own company tonight.

  Today was jarring. It was unexpected.

  Juliet Bardin has spun into my life like a whirlwind.

  I need to find my bearings so that tomorrow, I can face the day with a clearer mind and focused intent to keep Juliet on topic.

  “I brought pastries for everyone,” Juliet announces as she parades into the foyer of my penthouse dressed in white pants, a sheer black blouse, and red heels.

  Jesus.

  It’s a look that suits her, although the woman herself is stunning. An article of clothing doesn’t exist that could add anything to her beauty.

  A sudden vision of what she must look like nude flashes through my mind.

  I chase that away with a hard swallow.

  “Do any of them have lemon filling?” Nigel asks as he peers into the now open pastry box.

  “Of course.” Juliet glances at him. “Alcott told me lemon curd is your jam.”

  Nigel tosses his head back in laughter. “I see what you did there. I prefer lemon curd on my toast as opposed to jam.”

  What in the actual fuck is going on?

  This is my home. It’s where I conduct business. It’s not a goddamn staff room where people can exchange recipes and sample each other’s pastries.

  I have no idea if that is a thing, but Juliet Bardin is upending my routine in a way that I don’t want.

  “Juliet,” I bark out her name.

  That spins her around to face me. The black satin bra under her blouse is doing little to conceal the outline of her hardened nipples.

  She pushes a strand of her hair back from her cheek. “Yes?”

  I fist my hands at my sides in a desperate attempt to control what feels like need.

  What the fuck do I need right now?

  Peace and solace or her in my bed beneath me, taking each deep thrust of my…

  “Mr. Bane would like to get started with the interview immediately,” Nigel lies. “It would be preferable if we wrapped it up for the day before six.”

  I turn to him and silently quiz him with a lift of one eyebrow.

  “I have dinner plans, sir,” he explains. “An old friend is in town.”

  “I have dinner plans too,” Juliet chimes in. “With a new friend.”

  That piques my interest enough that I momentarily forget that I’m pissed with the pastry escapades.

  “Am I right to assume it’s with a gentleman?” Nigel asks.

  “Slate,” she says quickly. “His name is Slate.”

  “That’s edgy.” Nigel smiles at her. “You mentioned that he’s a new friend. Is this the all-important first date?”

  Keeping her gaze trained on Nigel’s face, she nods. “We’re going to keep it casual. Jeans, T-shirts, maybe a burger, and then we’ll see where the night takes us.”

  “Slate is a very lucky man.” Nigel shoots me a look, but I ignore him.

  “We need to get started, Juliet.” I summon her with a curl of my finger.

  She starts on her approach with the pastry box still in her hands.

  I tilt my chin up. “Leave those on the table.”

  She does just that but steals something soft and fluffy from the box before she turns to face me again. She takes a bite of it, and that’s immediately followed by a slow lick of her tongue over her bottom lip.

  It’s carnal in a way I’m not expecting. The need it feeds within me is so fierce that I want to stalk toward her, grab her, and tug that plump lip between my teeth.

  “I’m ready,” she announces before she takes a second bite.

  I turn my back, not sure if I can handle another stroke of her tongue over her lip.

  I’m hard from watching her eat.

  I close my eyes, rub a hand over my forehead, and start in the direction of her office, hoping that by the time I face her again, my cock will have calmed the hell down.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Juliet

  “We’re going to continue this tonight, Juliet.”

  Since he’s not looking at me, I roll my eyes.

  Why did I think that was going to happen?

  Kavan Bane is clearly a man who demands attention and sucks all the fun out of the room with one big gulp.

  I saw it this morning when I brought pastries for the staff.

  I thought Nara deserved a treat since she works her fingers to the bone trying to please a man who didn’t even finish his sandwich at lunch today.

  Who doesn’t eat all of a sandwich that contains prosciutto?

  Lunch was my choice again.

  I opted for the sandwich, a crostini slathered in roasted tomato puree for the appetizer, and then I insisted that we dine on the pastries I brought for dessert.

  Bane marched out of the room then.

  I watched him leave, admiring the cut of his shirt and the way his ass looked in his pants. He had ditched the suit jacket again this morning after I questioned him about a subsidiary of Bane Enterprises that is facing legal action.

  I dug that little nugget out of a lawsuit registry in Arizona.

  I thought if I threw something negative at him, he’d volley with something positive.

  That was an epic fail.

  He spent the better part of an hour schooling me on the legal reach of a suit like that and how it doesn’t impact Bane Enterprises’ bottom line in the least.

  I listened intently while staring at him because he really is that good-looking, especially unshaven.

  “I have a date,” I say because I have no idea if he was paying attention when I was spilling the details to Nigel this morning in the foyer.

  “Is it as important as this?”

  Um…yes.

  I keep that to myself and smile. “I think we should regroup and start fresh in the morning.”

  It’s a solid statement, considering the fact that I spent much of today waiting to speak to him.

  He sliced out that hour this morning for my law lesson and then almost an hour at lunch before he staged the pastry protest and stomped out of the room.

  The only other time I spoke to him was a brief fifteen minutes late this afternoon when he caught me flipping through the magazines on his coffee table.

  Unsurprisingly, they all featured articles that mentioned Bane Enterprises.

  Not one of them contained information that isn’t readily available online.

  I was sure that he’d dismiss me early again today, but that didn’t happen.

  It’s now nearing seven, and I was hoping to head home to change into something less sheer for my first date with Slate.

  “I think we should have dinner together and discuss the future of Bane Enterprises.”

  I search for a comeback, but before I can pull something out of the blue, his phone rings.

  I close my eyes briefly, praying that it’s a business catastrophe that demands his immediate attention. The plus to that is tomorrow he can fill me in on the details so I can add it to my article.

  “Harrison,” he bites out as he answers the phone.

  His gaze runs over my face as he listens to whoever is on the other end of the call.

  “Tonight?” he asks with a heavy sigh. “You’re sure it has to be tonight, Harry?”

  I silently thank Harry (whoever he is) for whatever he’s currently saying to Kavan because it sounds like my almost canceled date is back on.

  “I’ll meet you at Sérénité in thirty minutes.” He lowers his voice. “The private dining room.”

  I watch as he turns his back to me. “It’ll be all right, Harry.”

  Reassurance coming from the lips of Kavan Bane?

  Maybe I should ditch my date and book a table at Sérénité for a good old-fashioned journalist seek and find mission.

  I’ll seek out this Harry person and find out why Bane is nice to him.

  The problem is that Sérénité is a fancy French restaurant on Tenth Avenue with no reservations for the next six months.

  Margot tried to book us a table there last month. The host who answered the call practically laughed at her when she said she wanted a table for two that night.

  Kavan ends the call without so much as a ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you soon, Harry’.

  When he turns back to face me, the stoic expression is back on his face. “We’ll have to continue this tomorrow, Juliet.”

  “We will,” I assure him with a nod of my chin.

  He turns on his heel. “Alcott will arrange for Drew to take you home.”

  “I hope everything is okay,” I say quietly.

  That spins him back around. “What was that?”

  I look down before I settle my gaze on his face. “I hope that whoever Harry is, that he’s all right.”

  He takes measured steps toward me until the toes of his shoes almost brush against mine. “That call wasn’t your concern, Juliet.”

  I tilt my chin up. “I didn’t say it was, Kavan. I couldn’t help but overhear, and it sounded as though the person you were speaking to needed you. All I said was that I hope they’re all right.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  I let out a chuckle. “Do what?”

  “Worry about other people. Care about what they’re feeling.” His jaw tenses. “It’s clear that you’ve never suffered in life. You believe that there is kindness in everybody. You think a goodwill gesture can make everything right again.”

  I chuckle. “I don’t see anything wrong with focusing on the positive and helping whoever I can.”

  “The world is an ugly place.” He glares at me. “You were witness to that the night you were mugged.”

  I stand in place, toe-to-toe with him, never breaking our gaze.

  “This date you’re about to go on will disappoint you, Juliet.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t talk about my date.”

  “You’re expecting him to sweep you off your feet.” His hand hovers just over the center of my chest. “Do you think he’ll be the one who will steal your heart, protect it, honor it?”

  I don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

  “Do yourself a favor and skip it.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “It’s a waste of your time.”

  “It’s not,” I argue, out of principle, not out of a desire to defend Slate.

  “When was the last time a man satisfied you, Juliet?” His eyes flare wide.

  Confused, I push. “What do you mean? Are you asking me when was the last time a man satisfied me emotionally or in bed?”

  He laughs. It’s curt and edged with a cruel note. “Emotionally, Juliet? Let’s be brutally honest here. That’s not what you’re looking for, is it? You want to be satisfied in bed. You want a man who understands every nuance of your movements. You crave a man who hears the echoes of your desires in your moans and your screams. You want a man who knows how to fuck.”

  Stunned, I stare into his eyes. “Kavan.”

  “Juliet.” My name slides off his lips, wrapped in a groan. “Slate won’t fuck you like that. You know that he won’t.”

  My hand itches to slap him, but I hold back. “I’m going on my date.”

  I turn to leave, determined to walk out of this penthouse with my head held high.

  I don’t know how we ran so far off course so fast, but I do know that hearing Kavan Bane talking about fucking has set my body on fire.

  I have to shake this off.

  I need to come back here tomorrow focused on my objective. I’ll gather the research I need to write an article so I can go back to the life I had before I met Mr. Bane.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Kavan

  “Surprise!”

  It’s just as it sounds. Three male voices all yelling one annoying-as-fuck word at me as soon as I walk into the private dining room at Sérénité.

  I was lured here under false pretenses.

  I glare at the man responsible for that.

  Harrison Keene pitches a wink in my direction.

  A goddamn wink of his eye while Graham and Sean laugh.

  “What the fuck?” I mutter. “Are we twelve?”

  “Twenty-nine and feeling fine,” Sean corrects me in the most Sean way possible with a drink in his hand and a party hat of some sort on his head.

  Am I dreaming this shit right now?

  “I’m leaving,” I announce.

  “That’s not happening, Bane.” Graham approaches with a bottle of beer in his hand. “The surprise isn’t really for you, is it?”

  That’s a riddle I can’t solve, so I get straight to the point. “What the hell is going on?”

  Graham steps closer. “Tonight is the night we break the news.”

  “What news?” Harry asks from where he’s standing. “I thought you said I was supposed to call Bane and tell him it was urgent so we could surprise him.”

  That’s exactly what he did, and in my twisted tragedy-expecting mind, I thought it involved Harry’s health since he’s been in the hospital a few times in recent years.

  “Is this just one of our monthly Buck Boys dinners?” Sean questions Graham as he tears the paper hat from his head.

  I’d be happy if I never heard us referred to in that way again. We may have attended The Buchanan School, but we don’t need to carry the undesirable moniker of being Buck Boys forever.

  It’s a tradition started before our time that should have died the day after it was born.

  “Can’t you just call them dinners?” I direct that at Sean.

  He shoves a drink in my hand. “You look like you could use this.”

  “You have no idea,” I say before I empty half the glass in one swallow.

  “Why did I have to lure Bane here?” Harry gets to the subject at hand by getting in Graham’s face. “You told me it was a surprise celebration, Locke.”

  Graham is still sporting the same broad smile he had when he told me Trina is expecting.

  Suddenly, this all makes sense.

  I check each of my friends’ hands to make sure everyone has a drink.

  I’ll do the honors because if Graham wanted to, it would have happened by now.

  He’s wrought with emotion. I see it in his face.

  I lift my glass in the air. “We are here for Graham, gentlemen. Our dearest and most annoying friend is going to be someone’s father. Here’s to the kid that has to put up with that.”

  Sean and Harrison exchange a look before they turn to Graham.

  “It’s true,” he says in a relatively calm voice. “You’re looking at a future girl dad.”

  Glasses clink, my friends hug each other, and I take it all in.

  I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, yet, part of me wishes I had just a moment more with Juliet earlier.

  I pushed her in a way that I had no right to, but she pushed back, and that only served to spark something inside of me.

  I want her.

  I want to pin her to the wall and fuck her until my name falls from her lips.

  “Thanks for handling that,” Graham breaks into my thoughts with a pat on my back. “One day, all of us will be watching our kids play together.”

  He knows that’s not in the cards for me, but I give him this moment.

  “I’m hungry.” Harry yanks on the back of a chair next to a table set up for the four of us. “Let’s eat.”

  I take a seat with my friends, wondering what Juliet is doing with her new friend.

  Slate.

  “There she is, sir.” Drew points a finger at the windshield of the SUV we’re currently sitting in.

  I left Sérénité with every intention of going home, but when Drew pulled up to the curb, and I got into the car, the lingering scent of Juliet’s perfume hit me.

 

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