Arrogant

by Drea Blackery

  I nodded. “Yes—”

  “Down that way,” she said stonily. “Mr. Wyatt's office is at the end, around the corner.”

  With that, she dismissed me and returned to her typing on her computer.

  I stared at her quizzically. Someone was in a pissy mood this morning.

  I made my way through to the left and soon came to the main floor. The expansive place was lit with sunlight streaming in from a glass wall which stretched from one end of the office to the other. Dozens of cubicles were housed here, with employees already busy at work at their computers. I received a few curious looks as I made my way through to the other end of the floor, but otherwise, I was thankfully left alone.

  Turning the corner brought me to a short corridor, with one side also made from glass and overlooking the city beyond. An empty work desk was positioned at the midway point, and the hall ended abruptly at a set of dark wood double doors.

  Ryland Wyatt, Chief Executive Officer, read a metal plaque.

  This was it.

  I adjusted my hair, my clothes, my purse.

  Something about these oversized double doors made me feel like a schoolgirl outside the principal's office. And from what I knew of Ryland so far, this was likely the effect he wanted to have on his visitors.

  I cleared my throat and knocked.

  “Enter,” a curt voice came a few seconds later.

  I pushed a door open and stepped in hesitantly.

  Ryland was standing behind a large metal and glass desk, and he held up one finger to me without looking.

  “What are the updates on their side?” He planted his fists on his desktop, directing his question at the speakerphone. “Did you follow up on what I wanted?”

  I quietly headed to the seating area and perched myself on the cream leather sofa, looking around in open curiosity.

  Ryland's office was larger than my old apartment with Karin, and made of even more of the Wyatt's favorite material. The construction of this building had probably kept generations of glass-makers fed back in the forties.

  “I did, Mr. Wyatt,” a male voice faltered from the speakerphone, “but they needed more time to gauge the full extent of the delay.”

  I tried not to eavesdrop on the conversation, but it was hard with Ryland looking so pissed—and good.

  His sleeves were folded up to his elbows again, as if money-making was a job that needed him to get down and dirty, instead of simply sitting in this posh office and giving orders to his minions.

  “More time?” Ryland echoed incredulously. “This project has been dragging for months, and meanwhile we're paying them for it. If they can't keep to their damned deadlines, we're switching to another partner. Simple shit, Bernard.”

  “Er, I'm not sure we can,” Bernard stammered. “There's the problem of the contract—”

  “That. They. Fucking. Broke. Fletchers either gets their act together by Friday, or the deal is off and we go to Smithson. And if they threaten to sue for damages, tell them they're welcome to try. I'll fucking bankrupt the lot of them.”

  Ryland lifted the phone receiver and slammed it down again.

  “Fucking idiots,” he muttered, pacing behind his desk.

  Warmth spread low in my belly as I watched him.

  Surprise, surprise, Ryland Wyatt looked hot when he was angry.

  And he'd also forgotten that I was here.

  Sitting straighter, I cleared my throat.

  Ryland's head jerked up at the sound. “Hey.”

  Then his brows drew together as he ran a slow, heated gaze over me.

  “What’s wrong?” I tried not to shift in my seat.

  “Nothing. You just look…” His piercing gaze lingered on my face. “Different.”

  I sucked in my lips, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

  I had worn my usual blouse and skirt combo today, but I couldn't resist putting in an extra few minutes with makeup and hair earlier, covering up my blemishes with foundation and doing my eyes in a way I hoped brought out the gray in them.

  Not that I was trying to impress Ryland. I just wanted to be in my best condition.

  Look good, feel good and all that.

  “And by different, you mean better?” I hedged.

  “No, just different.”

  “Oh.”

  There. I’d just broken Rule One and Rule Two at the same time.

  Nice going, Allie.

  Ryland was still staring at me with that heated gazed, sending awareness dancing across my skin.

  Then he blinked and looked away.

  “Any problems on your way here?” he asked as he strode over to his liquor cabinet.

  “No, I got a taxi to pick me up in the driveway. But if I'm lucky, Estelle doesn't know where I am.”

  “Trust me, she does. I met her last night. Drink?”

  “You what?” I gaped at him, stunned. “You met her? Where? Why didn't you tell me?”

  “Because it’s none of your business.” Ryland ignored my incredulous gasp and poured a glass of liquor for himself casually. “I didn't discover anything I didn't already know, except that Theo isn't working with her.”

  Then he paused. “There is one thing you should know, though. She also took your trust fund.”

  My mind reeled. “My…my trust fund? We had a trust fund?”

  Ryland raised his brows in a way that meant Uh-huh, watching me closely from over the rim of his glass.

  “How?” I whispered. “When?”

  “Back in San Juan. Your father likely put Estelle as the executor. Not to shit on the dead, but that was a straight-up dumb move on his part. It only made it easier for her to help herself to it.”

  I stared at Ryland, completely floored.

  My sister and I had been broke all these years… because of Estelle?

  “Where is she?” I snarled. “I want to talk to her.”

  I also wanted to beat the shit out of her.

  “Not a chance, Allie cat.” Ryland leaned back against his desk, watching me closely. “She’ll back off from you now, but if I were you, I wouldn't push my luck.”

  “I'm not, I just want to keep my sister and me safe—”

  “And you'll do that by following my instructions.” He angled his head in that arrogant way. “I'm not compromising on this, Allie cat.”

  “You don't compromise, period.” I pushed to my feet angrily. “You have the whereabouts and the motives of my attacker, and you refuse to tell me anything.”

  “Damned right, and if you're smart, you'll know that working with me is the only option you have of staying safe right now. Your pride, or your sister's safety. Pick one.”

  “Don't tell me about safety. If not for you—”

  “A little too late to be discussing what-ifs, isn't it?” Ryland smiled coldly. “You're not an idiot, Beckett, so make the best of this fucked-up situation.”

  He rounded his desk and slid a slim stack of papers across the glass top.

  “You'll find everything we discussed last night to be in here. Take a look.” He tossed a pen onto the stack. “Then sign it.”

  I glared at his indifference, but to my frustration, he was right.

  Karin's safety came first, last, and every place in between. I didn't have much of a choice here.

  I narrowed my eyes, reluctantly heading over to his desk. “What if I find something I don't like?”

  “Then make the changes, and sign it.” Ryland saw me staring at him. “What?”

  “You're pretty flippant about this, aren't you?”

  “Because I don't want you here,” he stated flatly. “I have enough on my plate right now, but you're insisting on paying me back. How's this for compromise?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I'm hardly going to screw over your precious company with my lethal assisting skills.”

  “I'll decide that.” Ryland gestured at the contract with his glass. “You just sign that thing.”

  “Jerk,” I growled under my breath.

  I fli
pped through the contract, reading through the chunks of text on the papers. Everything was as he had mentioned last night, from the NDA to the chauffeur to the indefinite stay in his luxury suite. He had also included a monthly salary that made my eyes bug.

  I didn’t dispute that however, because I had a bigger issue to worry about.

  “I have one request,” I began.

  “Shoot.”

  “There's a clause I want to add.” I looked Ryland in the eye. “No relationships between employer and employee.”

  Ryland folded his arms and regarded me like I had just told an unfunny joke. “By relationships, you mean fucking?”

  I heated at his words. “Yes.”

  “So you want me to add a clause that says we can't fuck.” He watched me with his taunting blue eyes. “What's wrong, Allie cat? Afraid that without a black and white contract, you might just jump me?”

  “No! And stop calling me that!”

  “What, Allie cat? Sure, when you stop acting like one.”

  My mouth fell open in disbelief. “What—How? Please elaborate.”

  Ryland clanked his glass on his desk and began to check off his fingers. “You're suspicious of everything. You're stubborn, you're too independent—”

  “What? That's not a flaw.”

  “You're damned snarky and sarcastic—”

  I gaped. “So are you!”

  “—you're too proud for your own good, too cocksure of yourself, and you've got a load of nervous energy. Case in point, your feet haven't stopped tapping since you got here.”

  “You're not exactly someone who would put a person at ease,” I threw back.

  “I'm not?” Ryland asked. His gaze grew alert as he stalked over to me. “So you admit that I make you nervous, Allie cat?”

  “No—”

  “Is that why you want that “No Fucking” clause?” He stopped right in front of where I was seated.

  That placed his cock right at my eye level.

  I swallowed, eyeing the faint bulge in his pants.

  Was it…

  Was it growing bigger?

  “Because now that you mentioned it,” Ryland’s lazy drawl came from above, “I've noticed you staring at my—”

  “Stop.” I flipped to the last page of the contract and signed my name with jerky movements, slamming the pen down when I was done. “There, you win. Happy now?”

  Ryland smirked as he scooped up the stack of papers, inspecting my signature. “Took you long enough.”

  “I can't believe I just got baited into signing a contract,” I said under my breath.

  “Honored to pop your cherry, cat,” Ryland replied smoothly.

  He bent over the desk to sign off on the contract as well, putting him so close to me that his bicep pressed against my shoulder.

  My breath caught.

  Looking up, I could see the individual strands of his dark hair gleaming in the morning sunlight. My fingers twitched as if they wanted to run through the thick locks.

  If Ryland just turned his head to the left, it would put our faces mere inches away from each other...

  “For such a wary person,” he murmured, “you sure signed this like it's the iTunes T&C's.”

  I turned back to the front, swallowing hard against my dry throat. “Why? Is there something I should be worried about?”

  Ryland replaced the pen in its holder, finally straightening away from me.

  “Not in the contract,” he said, “but let's just say that you'd be smart to keep your guard up around me.”

  I frowned at that. “You're saying I should be afraid of you?”

  “I'll never hurt you physically, if that's what you're asking.”

  “So you'll hurt me in other ways.”

  Ryland stared down at me with an inscrutable expression. “If you let me, yes,” he said softly.

  Instead of being afraid, a feeling of awareness crept through my body, pooling between my legs.

  I swallowed and looked away again.

  “Any other questions?” Ryland strode to a set of floor-to-ceiling panels in the wall, opened one, and disappeared behind it.

  “Yes, actually,” I called. “I want info on Estelle.”

  “No way in hell,” came his muffled voice. “You'll stay away from her, Allie cat, that's my first order to you as your boss.”

  Ryland reemerged with a navy jacket, slinging it on. “I'm heading for a meeting with Tim Whitehall from Ainsworth Realty now,” he continued, “and another with Julia Bell from Goldberg at eleven. Also, cancel my lunch with Liam Berling—”

  “Wait, hold on—” I scrambled to pull my notepad from my bag.

  “Keep up, kitty cat, I'm paying you good money for this. International phone call to Dubai at one, and I want the latest profit numbers from Accounts by one-thirty. And don't forget to send my jackets for dry cleaning, they're the ones without the garment covers. Got all that?”

  I quickly scribbled down everything he had said. “One second…Okay, got it.”

  “You sure?” Ryland frowned as he came over, reaching for my notepad. A look of surprise crossed his face when he saw my notes. “Shorthand. Where'd you learn it?”

  I shrugged. “YouTube. It teaches you everything, from how to fix a leaky pipe to rewiring a light fixture.”

  Ryland handed my pad back to me with an inscrutable expression. “So you've fixed many leaky pipes in your life?”

  “A few, in the past ten years.”

  He looked away. “Good to know. I'll see you after lunch.”

  “Hang on,” I blurted as he turned to go. At his questioning look, I gestured for him to stoop lower. “Your collar is up...”

  Ryland hesitated for a beat before he inclined his head.

  I put my notepad down and got on my tiptoes, reaching around his neck gingerly.

  It was a tricky task to keep my balance and adjust the back of Ryland’s collar at the same time, and also because we were standing in what was essentially an embrace.

  With every movement, my fingertips brushed against the short strands of hair at his nape, the warm skin of his neck.

  With every unsteady sway, my breasts brushed against his hard pecs.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I was turned on.

  Ryland brilliant gaze burned into me as I worked.

  “You wanna know what I think, Allie cat?” he asked, his breath stirring the fine hairs at my temple.

  “Not really.” I kept my eyes downcast, taking a pointed step back from him when I was finally done.

  Ryland followed with one step forward, not allowing me to retreat.

  “I think I was right,” he said with faint amusement. “I do make you nervous.”

  “No, you don't—” I jerked my head up to see that Ryland had brought his face close to mine.

  Our lips were inches apart.

  I'd fallen right into his trap.

  “You can't lie for shit.” Ryland ran his knuckles down my cheek, my jaw, holding my gaze with his pale blue eyes. I stared back at him like a deer in the headlights, too entranced to move.

  “And right now, I'm dying to find out just how nervous I can make you,” he murmured.

  I held my breath as he lowered until our noses nearly touched. His shoulders were so broad they blocked out part of the light streaming in from the windows behind him, and his scent seemed to envelop me in a heady cloud of spice.

  And that piercing gaze of his... Watching me, seeing everything.

  Stripping me bare.

  “Did you think of me last night?” he murmured. “When you were lying in my apartment? In my bed?”

  “No,” I croaked.

  His lips curved. “That’s too bad. Because I was thinking of you.”

  I swallowed audibly.

  “Do you know what I thinking?” Ryland asked in a low, seductive voice.

  “No.”

  “I was thinking about how you’d taste.” His thumb stroked my lower lip, rubbing and pinching lightly. “Here.
”

  His hand lowered, going to the sides of my breast, never touching, though I felt his caress all the same.

  “Here.”

  His hand lowered again, hovering just over the place between my thighs.

  “Here.”

  I swallowed again.

  Ryland hadn’t touched my body, and yet it felt like it was in fire.

  Every cell in me ached to close that few inches between our bodies and our lips—even as my mind pleaded with me to run away.

  “Maybe I should stop wondering,” Ryland mused, his eyes fever-bright. “Maybe I should start taking… Start tasting…” He licked his lips, watching me. “Start touching.”

  Yes.

  My will lost the battle against Ryland, and my eyelids slowly fluttered shut in anticipation of his firm mouth pressing down against mine, his hands all over my body, right there…

  “Or not,” he said, an evil whisper on my lips.

  My eyes flew open to find him smirking down at me.

  “You asshole,” I hissed, my face heating up in humiliation.

  The jerk had the cheek to grin as he turned and strolled to the doors.

  “Relax, Allie cat. You'll get to fuck me properly in the future.”

  Just before he left, he paused with his hand on the door handle. “Alecia Beckett, my personal assistant,” he mused. “This should be interesting.”

  I had to bite my tongue as Ryland left the room.

  Interesting, my ass.

  Try catastrophic.

  I found myself smiling like a jackass as I strode through the office floor.

  I hadn't expected my morning to be so…

  Entertaining.

  Yeah, that was the word for it.

  Pissing Allie Beckett off and seeing her cheeks turn pink when she got embarrassed entertained the hell out of me.

  And that look on her face when she got aroused? I almost didn’t make it out for my meeting.

  My employees greeted me as I passed their cubicles. I returned with a curt nod, my mind still firmly stuck on Allie.

  Today was the first time I'd ever seen her in daylight, and damn if she didn't look good. The sun did all sorts of things to her hair, turning that pretty shade of dark brown into a thick mass of molten bronze. And under the light, her big gray eyes turned all silver and flashing, like a storm cloud.

  And way she'd tipped her head back and closed her eyes, offering her plump lips to me, looking so damned delicious…