Avoiding Mr. Right

by C. J. Ellisson

  He hung up the phone with a shout of success, pulling Nikki from her depressing thoughts,

  and she forced excitement into her question. “Creed Killion?”

  His kissable mouth spread into a pearly smile as he snapped a steel gray T-shirt against

  his desk. “We got him.”

  “I knew he wouldn’t say no to your offer.” She set her stack of files on his desk,

  and when he slid the shirt over his head, she tried not to stare. In reality, she wasn’t

  sure why she struggled so hard to hide her interest. The man never thought about anything

  other than work. She could probably dry hump his leg and he’d tell her to file something

  while she was down there.

  The fabric slithered along his torso and stretched tight against his pecs. A hand

  jabbed the hem of the shirt into the waist of his form-fitting charcoal pants, giving

  the material a bit of extra attention in the front.

  Lucky hand. Her mouth went dry.

  He ran his fingers through his thick black hair, which obligingly fell into perfect

  order.

  “Uh...” She fumbled to keep her train of thought. “Entrepreneurial 100 wants to do a photo spread of you for this year’s ‘most eligible bachelor’ edition.”

  Tor scrunched up his face. “No.”

  “You know, it might do Kythera Cosmetics good if they see the face behind the product.”

  Personally, she rather agreed with Tor’s view of staying out of the limelight. He

  was exceedingly private. Even she didn’t know much more about him than the rest of

  the world did. Being the daughter of a public figure herself, she knew firsthand what

  vultures the paparazzi could be, circling for the tiniest shred of dirt. Thankfully

  her mother was too wrapped up in her own life to meddle in Nikki’s and she’d never

  met her father—or even knew who he was for that matter.

  “Tell them no.” As he smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt, the material

  pulled across his chest, defining each sculpted muscle.

  Those things belonged in a museum.

  “All right.” She bent over the files and flipped open the portfolio a little more

  vigorously than she’d intended, and the leather cover slapped the desk. She slid the

  papers across to him. Tor’s generosity was legendary and one of the many reasons she’d

  fallen so hard for him. “The papers for your charitable foundation are ready.”

  “The day keeps getting better and better.”

  His smile was genuine. Though he appeared all-business to most, she’d seen that persona

  fade while talking to the inner-city kids his foundation was meant to benefit.

  “It’s a great cause.” She reached across the desk and pointed to the line at the

  bottom of the page. “I need your signa—”

  A loud rap sounded at the door. “Morning.”

  Nikki bit back her curse, grinding her teeth together before turning to face her least

  favorite person in the world. All six feet of Demetria Mirrors glided into the office.

  Five feet seven inches were woman; the other five inches were deadly stilettos. Clad

  in a form-hugging bright-red suit, she looked more like a supermodel than an attorney.

  “Morning, Demi.” Tor nodded, picked up the file, and began reading the document she'd

  asked him to sign.

  “I heard your excitement from the outer office,” Demetria said.

  “Skulking outside the door, eavesdropping again?” Nikki muttered.

  Demetria had only been working at the office for about three months, but it felt more

  like three years. The woman had an uncanny habit of always looking beautiful, her

  sultry poise constantly amped up to its highest setting. She made no pretense about

  her interest in Tor, which always raised Nikki’s hackles.

  “What has you in such a good mood this morning?” Demetria sauntered across the room,

  her gaze sweeping over Nikki like a chilly morning breeze.

  The feeling was mutual.

  “Just got word that Creed Killion accepted the job as creative director for Goddess,”

  he replied.

  “Oh Tor, that’s fantastic.” Demetria made a beeline for him, her coppery locks springing

  about her shoulders with each catwalk step she took. She circumvented the desk and

  moved in close to squeeze his arm. Not surprisingly, that required her to shove her

  ample bosom against his arm. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist working for Kythera

  Cosmetics.”

  He smiled and pointed his pen at Nikki. “It was Nikki’s idea to hire him.”

  “But you’re the reason he accepted. He’d be a fool not to want to work here.”

  When Tor stepped away from Demetria to sit on the chocolate suede couch, Nikki had

  to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from smiling. This was an evasive

  maneuver she’d seen him employ hundreds of time over the last six years. He worked

  in a world of beautiful women and looked like a god. His ability to elude advances

  without offending was truly masterful.

  Demetria was not so easily put off. As Kythera’s new senior corporate counselor, she

  had a personality to match: a shark in heels. It galled Nikki how quickly she’d wormed

  her way into Tor’s affairs, making her legally indispensable. Demetria tried to squeeze

  Nikki out of her and Tor’s working equation. But that was not going to happen. Nikki

  had busted her butt to be the best at her job as executive assistant to the CEO and

  everything Tor needed. Yeah, she had no life outside of the office, but that wouldn’t

  last forever. Nikki had plans of her own, to travel the world anonymously, unlike

  when her mother had dragged her around the globe with her entourage. No amount of

  meddling from this floozy with a degree was going to change that.

  Demetria’s gaze tracked to Nikki. “Did you do something different with your hair?”

  Nikki absently patted her dishwater-blond strands. Like every day, she’d pulled it

  back into a tight bun. Complicated hairdos took too much time, and that was something

  she had little of. “No. This is how I wear it every day.”

  “Yeah.” Demetria crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s the problem. I’ll give you

  the number to my hairdresser.”

  “She looks fine.” Tor glanced up from the file. “Did you need something, Demi?”

  With a graceful turn, the attorney eased one toned butt cheek onto the edge of his

  desk. How the woman could move in her skintight pencil skirt was a mystery. “I wanted

  to remind you about our meeting at ten o’clock. It should only take about twenty minutes.”

  He returned his attention to the papers. “Right, ten.”

  Her voice lowered an octave, taking on a sexy hum. “My office.”

  Nikki rolled her eyes. Was this woman ever not in heat?

  “Yep, your office, ten o’clock.” He waved the papers toward Nikki again. “Don’t worry,

  Nikki won’t let me forget.”

  “Absolutely.” Nikki gave the bitch a bright smile. “I keep him on track.”

  Demetria eased off the desk. If both women were barefoot, Nikki would stand several

  inches taller, but the heels the attorney constantly wore had her peering down her

  nose at others—all the better to intimidate the weaker employees.

  Not one to be so easily dismissed, she continued, “Perhaps you should have Nikki set

  up a dinner meeting for Creed. Something intimate where you can discuss expectations

 
and such.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.” He glanced up. “Wednesday?”

  “No problem.” Nikki typed a reminder into the office management app in her phone.

  “Seven o’clock?”

  “Works for me,” Demetria said.

  Nikki glanced up. “Oh, you’re coming?”

  A delicately sculpted brow arched with perfect execution. “Of course I’ll be there.

  I’m Kythera’s lead attorney.”

  “Right, but it’s not like they’ll be signing anything at a friendly meet and greet.”

  “I will be there.” Demetria leaned across the desk. “But you feel free to stay home and scrapbook,

  or whatever it is you do when not working.”

  Oh, she did not just disrespect the scrapbooking.

  “Scrapbooking is hugely underrated.” Nikki couldn’t actually claim to be a scrapbooker.

  It was more like a paper addiction, namely buying copious amounts of decorative paper

  and pretty embellishments. Never in the five years of collecting scrapbooking accoutrements

  had she created a single tribute to a vacation, dead grandmother, or favorite pet.

  All the supplies were neatly stored in a convenient wheelie carrier in case the urge

  to generate a paper masterpiece ever overcame her. “You should try it sometime. It’s

  very relaxing and might help get that stick out of your—”

  A rap on the door interrupted Nikki’s expletive.

  “Knock, knock.” Bella Stephanos, Tor’s mother, glided into the office. “Am I intruding?”

  Tor didn’t bother to glance up from the file he was reading intently—far too intently

  for a document he’d gone over a hundred times already. Of course, Nikki would study

  boring legal documents any day over spending another minute with Demetria. “Morning,

  Mother.”

  “Ms. Stephanos, you look absolutely stunning,” Demetria gushed.

  Nikki rolled her eyes, but she did have to admit, the woman was truly a freak of nature.

  With Tor being thirty-two, she had to be pushing fifty but looked nearly the same

  age as her son. Today she wore a low-cut patterned dress in varying shades of violet

  and knee-high black boots. The color of the dress seemed to darken her pale blue eyes

  to lavender. Jet-black hair, so like Tor’s, framed her face in a riot of curls that

  had been cut into a stylish bob. If her flawless skin was a tribute to Kythera Cosmetics,

  it was easy to see why she was the beauty behind the business.

  “Thank you, Demetria.” Bella’s gaze scanned the other woman as one would contemplate

  whether a piece of furniture fit the space. “All red today. Very daring.” The statement

  was neither a compliment nor an insult. She sidled past Demetria and leaned in to

  give Nikki a kiss on her cheek. “Good morning, sweetie. I hope my son didn’t have

  you working all night.”

  Nikki smiled, loving the slight to Demetria. “Morning, Ms. Stephanos. No, he gave

  me time off for good behavior.”

  Over the years, she and Tor’s mother had developed a mutual respect. Both wanted the

  best for him, and even if she didn’t say it outright, Nikki suspected Ms. Stephanos

  understood how much Nikki sacrificed for her boss.

  His mother fingered the small bird on Nikki’s necklace. “What a beautiful pendant.

  A sparrow?”

  “Yes, thank you. I saw it in an antique store in Connecticut and couldn’t resist.”

  “Did you know”—Ms. Stephanos released the necklace—“that the sparrow is one of Aphrodite’s

  symbols?”

  Nikki did know that, but also knew Tor’s mother enjoyed sharing tidbits of information

  she thought no one else knew. “Really?” She caressed the bird. “That must have been

  why I was drawn to it.”

  “The dolphin, rose, scalloped shell, swan, and dove are also symbols of Aphrodite,”

  Demetria said, as if answering a question in a trivia contest.

  All three looked at her, saying nothing. She shifted uncomfortably under their stare,

  and Nikki had to suppress the urge to cough, “Kiss-ass.”

  Ms. Stephanos turned to her son. “Would it be possible to get a few moments alone

  with my son?”

  “He has nothing until ten,” Nikki said.

  Tor scowled at her. Though he’d never fully explained the tension between him and

  his mother, Nikki surmised that it stemmed from control issues over the business.

  Both wanted to be in charge and neither gave an inch when it came to making decisions.

  Tor worked harder than any person she knew, but oftentimes his mother didn’t appreciate

  it. In Nikki’s opinion, Bella Stephanos had made Tor what he was today—a gorgeous

  workaholic, with no room in his life for anything but Kythera Cosmetics.

  Nikki held up her hands in silent defense and mouthed, “Sorry.”

  Tor's eyes twinkled with pay back. “I'd like you to attend the dinner meeting with

  Creed as well, Nikki. I'm sure I'll have need of my assistant at some point during

  the evening.”

  “If I must.” Nikki narrowed her eyes on Tor, promising her own pay back then turned to Ms. Stephanos.

  “Now that I think of it, Ms. Stephanos, Tor is free for at least the next two hours.

  Please feel free to take your time as you two catch up.”

  Tor coughed, barely hiding a choking laugh. Touche.

  “Oh, I won’t make him suffer for more than a few minutes.” With grace that was born,

  not learned, Tor’s mother lowered herself onto the tan leather bucket chair. “I just

  want to have a quick chat about the business.”

  “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.” Nikki turned to Demetria and made a shooing motion.

  A sneer curled Demetria's pouty red lips. Clearly, she was as excited as Nikki to

  sit at the same dinner table together. “Are there any legal matters you need me to

  assist with, Ms. Stephanos?”

  “Why, yes, dear, there is,” Tor’s mom said.

  Demetria’s sneer turned into a smug smile. “Of course, that’s why I’m here.”

  Bella dug in her purse and pulled out a rectangular slip of paper. “Can you take care

  of this, my dear? I got a speeding ticket last night.”

  Nikki bit her lip in an effort not to burst out laughing.

  “Of course.” Demetria plucked the ticket from Bella’s hand, pivoted, and strode toward

  the door. She lifted her nose in the air and brushed past Nikki. “Let me know if you

  want my hairdresser’s number.”

  “Right, and you let me know if you need that stick yanked out,” she muttered under

  her breath, trailing behind Demetria and willing the woman's hair to catch on fire.

  Unfortunately, nothing happened. One day, that witch was going to fall off her five-inch

  spikes and break something.

  Please let me be around when that happens.

  And the dinner meeting would likely be the time since Nikki couldn't fathom spending

  an evening across the table from Demetria fawning all over Tor and not stab her with

  her own shoes.

  The door clicked shut, and Tor gave an exaggerated sigh. “What do you want, Mother?”

  “Good gods, Toraos, I just stopped by to check on you. Is it impossible to believe

  I’m a concerned mother?”

  “We both know the answer to that.” His mother was nothing if not concerned, but only

  about herself. Rarely did she just stop by. There was always an ulterior motive. “I have a new cosmetic line to get off

  the ground.” He
set the file aside and stood. “That takes time and sacrifice.”