Manage My Heart (New Year New Me, #2)

by Colt, Shyla

  Is her voice huskier than usual? I want to pull her body flush to mine and feel her warmth. Instead, I drop my hands and step back as we reach the seventh floor, and the doors open just in time. I satisfy my need to touch her by placing a hand on the small of her back, guiding her from the car as I soak up her nearness. The line between us blurs in my brain daily, but I’ve always pulled back before I can make her uncomfortable. What I’m about to propose is going to make that a damn sight more complicated.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I can’t spend this trip bringing the deal home and dodging his handsy daughter.” I sneer at the thought of her octopus-like groping at the Christmas party. She’d been all over me like a cheap suit. “I spent the entire night ducking and dodging her. I swear I get hives when I think about mistletoe now. She tried her damnedest to catch me under one.”

  “She’s easy on the eyes. All blonde hair, blue eyes, tiny waist, and long legs, if I’m thinking about the right girl.”

  “Not me.” I shake my head. After all these years, I’m still not desperate enough to sink this low to gain a client.

  “Oh, we’re talking vows now?”

  “Trust me, Alby wouldn’t settle for less than a ring on her finger.” I roll my eyes. “If Porter wants to go the extra mile to gain the title of owner or shareholder, he’s welcome to do so. She’s vapid, spoiled, self-centered, and not my type. Not to mention, I have no plans to relocate over here to run this new branch.”

  “You have a type?” she asks.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You were going through women like a man at a smorgasbord, and as far as I can tell, the only thing they all had in common was their vag—”

  “Adora,” I interrupt her. Seeing judgment fill her eyes makes my chest constrict. “I had to keep Alby off my back.”

  “Wow, the boss man has been after you for that long?” she asks, eyes wide.

  I nod. “All year. It’s part of how I knew retirement was near. He all but said as much to me.”

  “Flattering.” She flinches.

  I know I sound harsh, but it’s true. “When you don’t raise your child to be self-sufficient, I think you get what you deserve in the end.”

  “And the gloves are off.” She places a hand on her chest. “I’m shocked.”

  I shrug. “Truth hurts.” We stop in front of our doors. “I know this is a lot to ask.”

  “And yet you’re going to do it anyway?” Leaning against her door, she crosses her ankles and studies me. She never gives me an inch, and I love it.

  “I am. Be mine for the next week and a half.”

  Something I can’t identify rolls across her eyes. “What would that consist of, West? ’Cause you’d need to make it worth my time. Especially with the King of Creep sniffing around me. And you expect me to fend off little Ms. Infatuated, too, I assume?”

  I nod and step closer, placing my hand on the wall beside her head. I lean into her. “What do you want?”

  Biting her lower lip, she peers up at me through her lashes.

  “What did I tell you about that?” I pull her lip free. She has no clue why. I hate it because it makes me want to suck her juicy, bottom lip into my mouth.

  “I don’t think you can handle what I want.”

  The challenge in her voice pulls me closer. “Try me,” I whisper, mere inches from her lips.

  “Treat me like it’s real.” Her voice is soft, but I hear it the same as if she shouted from the rooftop.

  “What?”

  “I want the experience of being Weston Roger’s girl.” She tilts her head up and smiles.

  I tuck a curl behind her ear, tracing the curve that reminds me of an elf. “That’d be hard since I haven’t had a serious relationship since early in my college years.”

  “Why?”

  I inhale. “Because I’m a possessive man who has trouble splitting his attention. I’ve been focused on working my way up the ladder and creating a life for myself. I have certain inclinations that make it difficult for me to find a good fit.”

  “Inclinations can mean a lot of things, West.” She toys with the button on my shirt.

  “Control. I like to have it.”

  “Are you trying to romanticize assholism?” she asks.

  I snicker. “No, but I like to take care of my lady completely. You see, I don’t do casual. I like good mornings and goodnights. I want to know what’s going on in her life.”

  Her body tenses. “To control it?”

  “No. So I can take care of what’s mine in whatever way is necessary.”

  “Jesus, Weston,” she whispers breathily.

  “I’m only telling you this to make sure you know what you’re asking me for.”

  “Iwantit.” Her words are a quick jumble I have to take a minute to decipher.

  “Be sure.” I study her face. “Really sure.”

  Her eyes dilate, and her body all but vibrates with need. I can fix that. I press the lower half of my body into hers, and her heat singes me through our layers of clothes. All the blood in my body rushes down. I watch her eyes darken as I grow to half-mast. This is a dangerous game to play. She swallows, and I trace the hollow of her throat with my finger.

  “I’m sure,” she croaks.

  I smirk. I like seeing that calm, unruffled exterior she has breached.

  “The first thing we have to remember is that someone is always watching.”

  “Oh?” Her lips make an O. I can think of ways to put that to good use.

  “That’s how the company stays on top. Being one step ahead of the competition. From now on, you belong to me, Adora. You’re going to get the full Weston treatment, and I want you to remember you not only agreed to it, you asked for it.”

  She closes her eyes and shivers.

  I trail my fingers down her arms. “Now I want you to be a good girl, go inside, take a nice bath, and go to bed. You had a long, harrowing day, and you’re just as jet legged as me.”

  Her eyes pop open. “But I have to—”

  I place a finger over her lips and lean in to whisper in her ear, “Be a good girl, and listen to Daddy.”

  She moans, and my dick nearly springs a leak. I’m screwed.

  Chapter Two

  Adora

  Drip. Drip. Drip. I pry my eyes open and groan. Did I leave the faucet on in the bathroom? I try to focus on the source. The pitter-patter of water continues. A cold drop of something hits my forehead. I shoot up in bed, instantly awake as every horror movie I’ve ever seen in a hotel flash through in my mind. I hold my breath, afraid if I breathe too fast, I’ll miss it. The noise continues. A few more drops fall onto my bare skin. Not a dream.

  I roll from the bed. Fumbling with the lamp on the bedside, I desperately seek out illumination. Fear and sleep have turned me clumsy. The light crashes to the ground, and I cry out. Still blind in an unfamiliar layout, I stumble toward the wall, hands out. I feel my way to the light switch, patting the wall. A rough nodule presses against my palm and I rejoice. I shove it up. Dark spots have formed on the ceiling above my head. Water droplets are falling from the area above my bed like rain.

  A door behind me swings open and slams into the wall. I jump. West runs in, shoulder first like a linebacker. His face is a fierce mask. He looks ready to murder despite his sleep heavy eyelids. I can’t help but leer at the lithe body he has on display. I knew he was fit but damn.

  His broad, muscular chest and firm abs have me drooling. I want to trail my fingers down them and into the band of the navy-blue pajama pants, which sit low on his hips that form a V I want to lick with my tongue.

  He rushes over to me. “What’s wrong?”

  I point while I try not to swallow my own tongue.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “I don’t know.” My voice is rough and sleep worn.

  “It is not safe here. Come to my room.”

  I glance down at the spaghetti-strapped, peach, silk nightgow
n. “I’m not dressed.’

  “This is a safety issue. I’ll give you whatever you need once you’re in my room.”

  “I can just grab—”

  He cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him. “Now.” His gravelly voice touches a part of me I didn’t know existed. Having the choice handled for me by someone I trust allows me to relax. I close my eyes and lean into his hold, enjoying the heat his body produces. West will make sure things go smoothly. I’ve seen how well he excels at that. I can lay my responsibilities down and allow him to carry them—just for a bit.

  “Good girl.” He pulls me to him and wraps an arm around my shoulder, guiding me into the room next door.

  “Sit.” He moves me toward the bed and gently pushes my shoulder.

  Sinking down onto the bed, I watch as he dials the front desk. His tone is terse and commanding. It leaves me feeling safe and cared for. My eyes grow heavy as they make arrangements.

  “Here, sweet one.”

  I look up to find him holding out a hotel robe. I slip my arms in, and he wraps me tight, belting it shut.

  “The staff is going to bring your things over, okay?”

  I nod, too tired to do much else as the adrenaline wears off. I hear the hotel workers open the door to my room. What feels like minutes later, a knock sounds on West’s door. “Stay here. I’m going to have them put your things here and see what they can do about another room.”

  Did his lips brush my forehead? No. I imagining things. The unexpected events have everything turned upside down and convoluted.

  They bring my things in quietly and speak in whispered tones before leaving. West returns.

  “They’re going to see what else is available for tomorrow. At the moment, everything is booked up.”

  “Oh. Where am I going to stay?”

  “Here.” He pulls down the sheets. “Get in.”

  “I can’t sleep here.”

  “Why not? The bed is big enough.” He gestures toward the king-sized bed.

  I bite my lower lip.

  “You want me to stay above the covers?” he asks playfully.

  “Yes. Prove your intentions are pure.”

  He grunts. “That’s not the word I’d use.” He shakes the sheets like a bullfighter. “Let’s go.”

  I pout. “So bossy.”

  “Pot meet kettle?”

  My limbs get heavy. “Hmm. I direct with a stern hand because that’s what you need.”

  “And you need rest. We’ve got an early morning with team building tours and the McCreepy family.”

  I snicker and climb into bed, burrowing under the blankets. The lingering warmth lulls me into a twilight. West tucks the sheets around me and does as he promised, lying on top of the sheets. I curl onto my side, inhaling his woody, rain-soaked scent. He smells like the untamed outdoors and a masculine musk that’s his alone. I shut down the voices inside of my head, screaming at me for being naïve and making a bad situation worse. If this is the only time I’ll get to be this close to him, I’ll milk it for all its worth. It’ll be a worthy memory to take with me when I depart.

  AN INSISTENT KNOCKING on the door makes me groan. I roll onto my side and pull the pillows over my head. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet, and I’m protective of my sleep. A throaty chuckle hits me like cold water. What? Tensing, I feel the pillow lift, and it all comes rushing back.

  “Morning.”

  I groan. “What time is it?” My throat is scratchy and dry.

  “Seven-thirty.”

  I groan. “Why?” Rolling onto my back, I return the pillow to my face. “We don’t have to meet for breakfast until nine.”

  “It might be the hotel with information about a room for you. I’ll get it.” The bed moves as he climbs out.

  “What are you doing here?” He’s cold and curt. I toss the pillow aside and sit up, ears straining.

  “I wanted to see if you’d like to get together and catch up.” The whining, nasally sound is a knife to my eardrum.

  “I told you I wasn’t interested. That hasn’t changed, Priscila.”

  I sit up. My stomach clenches. Is this where we start to pretend in front of others? Should I go to him? I glance down and immediately rule out that option. When I see Priscila, I need to be at my best, not half asleep and in a vulnerable state of dress.

  “What?” she purrs. “Can’t we have a friendly little chat?” From the sound of things, what she wants to eat this morning is him. I bristle.

  “No.” His deep, deadpanned voice makes me smile. I’ve seen him when he’s like this. He becomes an unmovable force. She’s not going to get anything from him.

  “It would make my father really happy to see us together. You know Mr. Alby told Daddy he’s planning on retiring next year and taking a backseat. But he wants things settled here first.”

  Wow, could she be any more transparent? I wonder if she’s acting on her own, or Alby put her up to this. It’d be the ultimate power play, marrying him off to his daughter, so he could run the Alby software from the sidelines. That’s too much mixing of business and pleasure. I often think he wants mini-mes instead of skilled workers.

  “If I’m chosen, it’ll be because I’m capable of running the business.” Disdain drips from his words, like the sweetest honey.

  She laughs. “Well, of course, but it couldn’t hurt to bend his ear in your favor. I mean, you were brought here to close the deal, weren’t you?”

  I can picture his strong jaw clenching as he struggles to hold his sharp tongue. Patience isn’t his best attribute.

  I clear my throat loudly. “West, who’s at the door?” I call.

  “Who is that?” The charm flees Priscila’s voice so fast it makes my head spin.

  So fake. She can turn the pleasantries off and on like a light switch.

  “The woman I’m seeing.”

  “You brought her here on the company dime? Does Mr. Alby know this?” Her voice is an octave higher this time.

  He chuckles. “Trust me, he knows.”

  “And he approves?” She sounds scandalized.

  “If he didn’t, I’m sure you’ll inform him. If you’ll excuse me, breakfast isn’t until nine o’clock, and I had a late night.” His insinuation hits. Priscila huffs loudly. A few moments later, the door is closed.

  “Well, we just painted a target onto my back,” I say as he walks over. His hair is mused and falling into his eyes in an adorable way I’ve never seen before. I smile as I study the light brown strands streaked with gray. His beard is neatly trimmed and gives him a dignified professor vibe I’m very much into.

  “Is it wrong that I’m happy I’m not in this alone?” He walks over to the bed and sinks down on the edge. His thigh presses into mine. My nipples harden, and I find myself grateful for the robe that covers me.

  “Yes,” I snap.

  “My sweet one didn’t get enough sleep last night, did she?”

  My face heats as my lips pucker into a pout. If he wanted to know, I’d tell him. Part of me needed to see how far I could push Mr. Perfection. It was a strange trip, being on the other side with him attending to me. What are his limits? “No.” I push the envelope, studying him for signs of irritation. A slow smile curves his lips up at the corners. Is he honestly enjoying this?

  “I’m sorry, sweet one.” He kisses my forehead. “Let’s get you settled back in. I’ll wake you in time to get ready.”

  I balk at the thought. There are still so many things yet to be handled. “I shouldn’t. We need to see about the room and—”

  “You’re always so worried about everyone and everything else.”

  “That’s what you pay me to do.”

  “Hmm.” He nods. A thoughtful expression softens the planes of his face. “When do you take care of yourself?” His words are an echo of the conversation I had with my sister.

  “I do.”

  He hums. “I’m not sure I agree.” He places his hand on either side of me, and I try not to squirm. “Remember wh
at I told you last night?”

  I lick my lips. “You said a lot of things.” The intensity of his gaze is a heavy weight. The world narrows to the two of us. My breath catches in my chest. No one has ever looked at me like this. Don’t forget this is a game of pretend. He doesn’t know how real it is for you.

  “That I take care of what’s mine. Right now, you need to sleep. After that, I’ll make sure you have a full belly before we go to the tour.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “No one could ever mistake you for one.” He rakes his gaze over me slowly. “But I think you do need a keeper. You spend all this time reminding me to eat, keeping me on schedule and out of my head. Who does the same thing for you?”

  “Me.” My voice is shaky.

  “Hmm.” He trails the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “I don’t believe you, sweetness. Now back in bed you go. Lay back.” He speaks like his mouth wouldn’t melt butter. How can one man be so confident fresh out of bed?

  Who the hell can sleep with you giving me orders like that? My body obeys, despite the way my mind balks. Traitor. I wiggle, trying to get comfortable beneath the sheets.

  “You won’t always get your way, you know?” I mutter as the heavy veil of sleep begins to descend upon me.

  His lips curve up into a smirk that makes my belly flip. “We’ll see.”

  WESTON

  When Adora steps out of the bathroom in a pair of skinny jeans and white sneakers, it’s like seeing her in a whole new light. Her waist is accentuated by the gold chain-length belt and the white camisole she’s tucked in. A mustard yellow blazer with whimsical bees shows off her quirkiness and makes her skin glow. She looks delicious. I want to take a bite of her and see if she’s as sweet as the honey bees produce. Her dark hair is pulled back into a bun, with wisps framing her face. I ignore the urge to wind the strands around my finger.

  “I’m all set.” She picks up a dark brown satchel, and I hold out my hand. She rolls her eyes. “It’s not heavy.”

  “That’s my job now, sweet one.” I wink. She shakes her head, relinquishing control. It’s intoxicating, allowing my true nature to escape. For years, she’s been the one in control. I didn’t realize how much I wanted this until now. Going back to the status quo is going to be exquisite torture. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I pull her to my side as we leave.