by Anna Hackett
Gia sat. “With?”
“Neil Robinson.”
Now Gia groaned. She’d had one meeting with Robinson. He was an up-and-coming businessman, and he’d asked her out about thirty times during that meeting. She’d told him no, repeatedly, and stressed that she didn’t date clients. For the next meeting, he’d demanded a dinner meet, but she’d managed to talk him into lunch.
“Do we really need his account?” Ashley asked.
“I can handle him.”
Gia’s morning was a whirlwind. She thrived on it. She loved working with people. She loved solving problems. She loved being productive.
At 12:25, she walked into the EPIC Steak restaurant on the waterfront in the Embarcadero. The place had great food, lots of leather and industrial-metal accents, and a killer view.
Neil Robinson rose from a table near the windows, the Bay Bridge behind him, and a wide smile on his face.
He was handsome, in a clean-cut way—maybe six feet tall, with a trim body that he clearly kept in shape. But Gia spent time with men who kept in military shape. She had a secret obsession with powerful thighs, hard abs, and brawny arms. Not to mention a little ink.
Pretty and glossy didn’t really do much for her unless it came with an edge.
“Gia, a pleasure. You look beautiful.”
Ugh. Neil just couldn’t get “business meeting” into his head.
“Neil.”
She sat and he took the seat beside her. “I’ll get you a drink. Wine?”
“I don’t drink at business meetings.”
His smile faltered, then reformed. “Oh, but this is business and pleasure.”
“I’ll have a soda with a twist of lime, please.”
He didn’t look happy, but he passed her order onto the waitress.
“So, let’s get down to business,” Gia said.
Neil smiled, and under the table, he put his hand on her thigh.
She kept her face bland, and shifted his hand away. This was going to be a long, annoying lunch.
Saxon strode toward the double-door entrance to EPIC Steak.
Gia’s assistant had told him where to find her. He scowled. She should have stayed at her office. He’d arrived at her apartment this morning, and tailed her and her driver to her office.
Vander had sent a pretty strong message to Dennett to stay away from Gia. But until Willow returned the gems, or Dennett confirmed he was no longer targeting Gia, Saxon wouldn’t consider her safe.
A statuesque brunette walked past him and shot him a lingering look.
He ignored her and moved on. He’d spent his morning digging up dirt on Kyle Dennett. He didn’t like what he was finding.
Norcross Security operated on both sides of the legal line. Occasionally, they had to work with scum to get the info they needed to get a job done successfully. Saxon had no qualms about dipping his toe into the gray. His time in the military, especially in Ghost Ops, had taught him that right and wrong could get pretty fucking subjective in shitty situations. He had his own code, and he followed it.
“Saxon.”
The cool, female voice made him fight back a sigh. He glanced up at the woman who’d just exited the restaurant. “Mother.”
Tall, impossibly thin, and decked out in Chanel, his mother looked ten years younger than she was. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled an inch above her shoulders.
She eyed his rolled-up sleeves and ink with distaste. “I just finished lunch with friends from the country club. What are you doing here?”
It was Monday, what did she think he was doing? “I’m working.”
Her nose wrinkled.
Saxon knew she was about to launch into a tirade. His parents made it very clear how they felt about him working, especially in security.
No, they’d much rather he skimmed off his trust fund, married a socialite, and did nothing.
“Sorry, Mother, I’m busy. I have to go.” He dutifully kissed her cheek. “You look fabulous, as always.”
Vanessa Buchanan had a killer plastic surgeon.
“Very well. You should come for dinner sometime.”
At that loving, heartfelt invitation, he nodded and pushed through the doors.
At the hostess desk, a stylishly dressed redhead in her twenties shot him a welcoming smile. “Hello, welcome to EPIC Steak.”
“The Norcross table.”
The woman’s smile dimmed. “They’re seated by the windows, but I believe all the guests have arrived.”
Saxon spotted Gia straightaway. Her curls were tamed up into a twist, exposing her slender neck. So fucking sexy.
He strode toward them. Then he saw the asshole in a suit with shiny hair lean closer to her. Saxon had the right line of sight to see the man slide his hand onto her leg.
Saxon’s gaze whipped back to Gia’s face. Was she on a date?
No. Her face was composed, her professional look. Only someone who knew her well would sense the temper brewing.
She moved the asshole’s hand, clearly attempting to redirect the conversation.
Saxon strode closer, coming up behind them.
“Neil, this is a business meeting. I expect you to act professionally, if you want to work with Firelight PR and have us take on your account. Please keep your hands to yourself.”
“Gia, you must feel our attraction.” The man leaned in. “I want you naked. I want to fuck you.” His hand went sliding under the table again.
Saxon saw red.
He gripped the idiot and yanked him out of his chair.
The asshole yelped, and the chair tipped over. The guests at nearby tables gasped.
Gia shot to her feet. “Saxon!”
“She said hands off, asshole.”
The suit straightened. “Who the hell are you?”
“The guy who’ll make sure you keep your hands to yourself.”
Mr. Shiny Hair frowned and looked at Gia. “Are you with this guy? Everyone I spoke with said you were single.”
Gia made a sound that Saxon knew well. She was heading toward losing it. She’d made that sound with Saxon too many times to count.
“Whether I’m seeing anyone or not is none of your business, Neil. As I’ve told you repeatedly, and you haven’t listened, I’m not interested in you personally, only professionally.”
“So, you are fucking him?”
Saxon growled and took a step forward. Gia slapped a hand to his chest. “Not one more step, Saxon.” She turned to the man. “It wouldn’t matter if I was sleeping with the entire lineup of the San Francisco 49ers. Who I sleep with is none of your business.” She drew in a breath. “I don’t think you’re the right fit for Firelight PR, Neil. I’d be happy to give you some recommendations for other firms.”
“Fuck you. I’ve wasted weeks on you.”
Saxon lunged and punched the guy in his glossy teeth.
With a cry, Neil flew back into several chairs, knocking them over. He flopped around on the ground.
“Just great.” Brown eyes skewered Saxon. “You can’t solve everything with your fists, you know?”
“Why not?”
She glanced at him, her look withering, then turned and tossed her napkin on the man on the floor. “Goodbye, Neil. Don’t call me again.”
Then Gia took Saxon’s hand and dragged him out of the restaurant.
Gia nodded at the open-mouthed hostess. “Sorry for the drama. Please put the drinks on my account.”
She towed Saxon outside and spun to face him. “Why are you here? How dare you barge your way into my business meeting and punch my potential client in the face.”
“He was an asshole.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“So pick up the phone.”
“Would you have answered?’
Her nose wrinkled. “Possibly.” She sighed. “Let me call my driver.”
“I have my car.” He pressed a hand to the small of her back, sending electricity tingl
ing across his fingers. She was a tiny, curvy package. He wanted to tug her curls out of the tidy roll they were trapped in.
“So, you like having potential clients paw you?” There was an edge to his voice, but he couldn’t seem to tone it down.
“No. I was dealing with it.”
“Like you were dealing with things Saturday night?”
Her glare was hot enough to melt metal. “Finesse takes time, Saxon. You don’t have to resort to violence in one millisecond.”
“You shouldn’t have left the office.”
“God, you’re so bossy.”
“Your point?”
“Take the time to talk to people, Buchanan. Ask, explain, use your pleases and thank yous. You know, act like a nice person.”
He raised a brow.
She huffed out a breath. “You are aggravating.”
“Right back at you, Contessa.”
“Why shouldn’t I have left the office?” she asked, with exaggerated patience.
“It’s not safe yet. Until Willow returns the gems, there’s still a risk Dennett will target you.”
Saxon stopped by his dark-blue Bentley Continental GT.
Gia faced him. “Dennett knows I don’t have them, and that he risks going up against Vander and Norcross Security if he pursues this. He won’t come after me again, which is why Vander didn’t order me to stay at the office.”
Saxon pressed his hands to the car either side of her, caging her in. “That’s not a risk I’m willing to take, Gia.”
She swallowed, and the air between them charged.
Oh yeah, Gia Norcross liked to irritate the fuck out of him, but she felt the incessant, always-simmering attraction between them.
Saxon leaned an inch closer and their breath mingled. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
She eyed his lips. “Because I’m Vander’s sister?”
“Yes. And because I’ve known you half my life. And because I want to keep that curvy little body of yours in one piece.”
She pressed a hand to his chest. “Step back.”
He hesitated, then did as she asked. They were exposed on the street, but soon, very soon, he’d get Gia alone and make things clear to her. He reached past her and opened the car door for her.
After he closed the door, he circled the car and slid inside.
“Why are you so worried about this Dennett guy?” she asked.
Saxon expertly pulled into traffic. “He’s trying to make a name for himself.”
“Doing?”
“A bit of this, a bit of that. Drugs. Prostitution.”
“God, why are there so many assholes in the world?” she grumbled.
Saxon noted that she was stroking the leather seat. He watched those neat, painted nails and thought of them stroking other things. “You like my car?”
“It’s a nice car.” She glanced at him. “Only the best for Saxon Buchanan.”
Everyone liked to give him hell about liking the best. So what if he liked his cars expensive, his suits tailored, and his sheets one-thousand thread count? He could afford it, and he’d spent ten fucking years on missions sleeping in clothes he’d worn for days, smelling ripe, in the middle of warzones. “Well, I wouldn’t buy a shit car.”
She snorted. “So, Dennett’s making a name for himself.”
“Proving himself. Making an impression with people he’d like to work with. Makes him unpredictable. If word gets out that his junkie ex-girlfriend stole a bag of precious stones, his rep takes a hit.”
“Hmm.” Gia tapped her nails on the dash.
“And the bag of stones is worth two hundred and fifty grand.”
“What?” Her mouth dropped open.
“Your friend didn’t just steal a few baubles.”
Gia looked out the window. “Goddamn you, Willow.”
“She contact you?”
Gia touched her earlobe. A tell.
“Gia,” he growled.
“She sent an email to let me know that she was safe.”
He growled again. “Willow thinking only of Willow.”
“She wasn’t always like that.”
“She was. She was always jealous of you.”
“What?” Gia frowned.
Saxon pulled up in front of her office building.
“Get inside, Gia. No more lunch dates. Head straight home after work, and once Vander has confirmation you’re clear of Dennett, then you can wander the streets.”
“You love telling people what to do, don’t you?”
He considered for a second. “Yeah.”
She opened the door and smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant one. “Any other orders, Master Buchanan?”
He smiled. “Yes, you can call me Master Buchanan all the time, now.”
She got out, flashing her slender legs, which his cock definitely noticed. She shot him one more glare, then slammed the door.
He watched her stride inside, hips swinging. He blew out a breath and gripped the wheel.
His hunger for Gia Norcross was no longer under control. Once she was safe, he was making her his, one way or another.
Chapter Three
God, she was tired.
After her lovely lunch with Neil, and the confrontation with Saxon, she’d gotten back to an afternoon of problems. A client caught up in a Twitter storm. Another client caught in a scandal involving a woman who was definitely not his wife.
Gia was tired to the bone and her face was throbbing.
She unlocked her apartment door. At least she didn’t look as bad as poor Haven had. During a theft at the museum, when a Monet had been stolen, her friend had been beaten. Haven’s bruises had lasted for days.
Haven had powered through, and she’d had Rhys at her side.
Gia was going to have a glass of red wine, and then sleep. She’d power through tomorrow.
She dumped her things on the island and kicked off her shoes.
Home. She loved her light, beautiful two-bedroom apartment. She had a gorgeous kitchen she didn’t have enough time to use. A spa-like master bathroom that was her favorite room in the place. And a balcony with great views.
She smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. She’d picked out every little thing. Her apartment was her sanctuary. The place where she could shed her kickass, successful PR persona, and just be herself. There was nothing to prove, no one to impress.
A quick rat-a-tat-tat knock on her door made her frown. Someone had gotten past the doorman.
She checked the peephole and her pulse leaped.
Willow.
Gia wrenched open the door. “Will.”
Her friend pushed in. Willow’s face was twitchy, her blue eyes bright. She shoved her hair back. In high school, it had been thick and blonde, now it was stringy and the color of dishwater.
Willow was tall and far too thin. She paced into Gia’s apartment and whirled.
Gia studied her friend’s face carefully and let out a breath. “You’re high.”
“I’m in a fuck load of trouble, Gigi. I needed to chill a bit, take the edge off.”
“You got yourself into this situation by stealing a quarter of a million dollars of gems that aren’t yours.”
Willow shifted her beaten-up running shoes. “Dennett’s got loads of money. Why shouldn’t I get some?”
“Because it’s his.” Even if it was ill-gotten. “You stole from him.”
Willow shrugged a thin shoulder. “I thought you’d take my side.”
Crap, Gia had been taking Willow’s side for years. Excusing her friend’s poor choices. Saxon’s voice rang in her head.
God, had she been enabling Willow?
“Dennett’s man came after me,” Gia said. “He threatened me. You need to return the gems.”
Willow went silent, chewing on her lip. “You look okay.”
“He pulled a gun on me. He shot at me.”
“Your brothers won’t let anything happen to you. And that golden-boy snob would take
a bullet for you.”
“Saxon?”
“Yes,” Willow sneered. “He won’t let anything happen to his precious princess.”
“Saxon is just—”
“Has fucking wanted you since before you were legal.”
The words sent a jolt through Gia.
“That blue-blooded asshole wouldn’t look at me twice, but you…” Jealousy laced Willow’s voice.
Gia dragged in a breath. Right now, this wasn’t about Saxon. “Look, focus on Dennett. You need to—”
“His guys have been tailing me all day.” Willow wiped a hand across her mouth. “I need—”
Gia straightened. “Did they follow you here?”
“Pretty sure I lost them.” Willow pulled a small, black bag from her pocket. “Look, Gigi, I just need to stash these here. Just for a bit.”
“Willow, no.” Her brothers and Saxon would lose their minds.
“I need to make things right. Please. Just hide them for a few hours and I’ll fix this, Gigi.”
Willow threw her arms around Gia in a tight hug. She was so thin, and the desperation wafted off her.
“Okay.” You’re an idiot, Gia Norcross. “Just for a few hours, Will.”
“Thank you.” Her friend smiled, the old Willow shining through.
Gia took the bag. It felt far too light for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
“I’m going to make this right.” Willow opened the front door. “You’ll see.”
Then she was gone.
Gia dropped heavily onto her lovely suede couch. The temptation was too much and she opened the bag.
She gasped. Oh, wow.
The stones were cool on her palm. Blood-red rubies, deep-green emeralds, jewel-blue sapphires, some large, pale-pink stone.
She gave herself a second to imagine a set of ruby earrings, or a gorgeous emerald necklace.
Then she shoved the gems back in the bag. She moved over to the floating shelf on her living room wall. She popped a panel on the side and slid the bag inside the hollow wood. She set the panel back in place.
She really wanted that glass of wine, but if her brothers found out that she had the gems and she hadn’t told them…
If Saxon found out, he’d ride her for days for being stupid.
