by Katee Robert
She used a single finger against his forehead to push him back, and he let her do it, his dark eyes seeing too much. Well, too damn bad. He could see all he wanted, but that didn’t mean anything had changed.
It couldn’t.
She wouldn’t let it.
As soon as he was far enough from her, she stood slowly. There were no words to explain how badly she’d just fucked up. She was supposed to be the one in control—the one who was handling Beckett and avoiding a scandal.
It’d taken him a grand total of five minutes to have her riding his mouth and begging for release. If the door lock had failed and someone had managed to take a picture of them…
Her career would be finished. No one would take her seriously. Lydia would fire her on the spot. She’d lose everything she’d worked so hard for. She fixed her dress, her gaze on the floor.
“You don’t have to look like you’re on your way to the chopping block. It was a fucking orgasm, Samara.”
There was nothing left to do but turn and face him.
Beckett looked as off-kilter as she felt. His breath was coming too fast, his hair standing on end from where she’d run her fingers through it, his entire body clenched like he was fighting between moving closer to her and putting more distance between them.
At this point, she wasn’t sure what she preferred.
Stop that. Get your priorities in order.
Once she was sure she wasn’t in danger of indecent exposure, she walked to the door. “If you start spreading around lies about Lydia’s whereabouts the night of Nathaniel’s death, I’ll see you sued for defamation.”
She didn’t hear him move. One minute he was across the room, and the next he was pressed against her back. Every part of him was hard, from his arms bracketing hers to his cock pressing against her ass. Beckett dragged his mouth over her shoulder, the rasp of his whiskers a sensation she felt in places nowhere near where he touched her. “Right here, right now, we’re going to be honest with each other.”
Not likely.
He released her and stepped back, waiting for her to face him before he continued. “We get close and it’s like our connection has its own gravitational pull. It doesn’t matter that you work for Kingdom Corp and I’m with Morningstar. You can’t resist it any more than I can.” He crossed his arms over his chest. No matter how she searched his face, his expression gave nothing away. He just…waited.
“Watch me.” She might want him, but it didn’t matter. Samara was stronger than her baser impulses, no matter what they’d been doing two minutes ago. She had to be.
Beckett didn’t have anything on the line with this. No matter how much his father’s death had messed him up, he still had a place within Morningstar Enterprise—owning Morningstar Enterprise. Whoever came out on top of this bid for the new contract, he and Lydia would walk away already preparing how they’d win the next one.
Beckett was a King.
Samara was not.
End of story.
Chapter Six
Beckett made a point to go into the office the next day despite it being Saturday. He needed the grounding effect of being inside Morningstar’s headquarters to remind him what was important.
He couldn’t even blame what happened last night on Samara. It was all Beckett. He’d been so damn off-center since his father died, since he’d lost Thistledown, and the ground only seemed to be growing more unstable with each passing day.
No matter what Samara had said, he trusted Frank. If his friend said Lydia met his father the night he died, then it happened. She might have had appointments elsewhere, but that didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. People missed appointments all the time. He did believe that Samara didn’t know anything about that meeting. Maybe he shouldn’t, but his gut said her surprise was real, and he’d learned to trust that instinct over the years.
His gut also said Lydia had something to do with his father’s death.
It might be as benign as drinking with him and letting him get behind the wheel, but Beckett doubted it stopped there. Someone had paid the driver off and sent him out of country, and Lydia had barely waited twenty-four hours before she was trying to convince Beckett to sell the company. It was possible it was a coincidence…
But add in the shock of Nathaniel willing Thistledown to Lydia, and it was too much to explain away. There was only one person who benefited almost uniformly from Nathaniel King’s death as things stood now—and it was Beckett’s aunt.
He stepped off the elevator and froze. Walter Trissel, Morningstar’s attorney on retainer, stopped short in the doorway to his office, a plain brown box in his hands. Damn it. Beckett slid his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall next to the elevator, watching the man closely. “Walter.”
“Beckett.” The man went red. “I didn’t expect you in today.”
“I can see that.” He nodded at the box. “Clearing out your office?”
Walter’s red face took on a purple tone and he seemed to find the floor remarkably interesting. “I’m sorry, Beckett. I would have liked to stay on to see the changeover through, but, well, a man’s family has to eat.”
“You make over six hundred thousand dollars a year, Walter. And you’re single. Don’t treat me like an idiot.” Beckett’s eyes narrowed. “What did she offer you?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
He kept his posture relaxed through sheer force of will. Venting his frustration on Walter Trissel was like squashing a cockroach—ultimately unsatisfying. But knowing that didn’t kill the impulse. “Lydia. That is who you’re defecting to, is it not?”
“I…uh…” He drew in a breath and expelled the next sentence in a rush. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about this. I’m sorry, Beckett. But I really have to go.” Walter skittered past him and onto the elevator.
Beckett might have rolled his eyes to hear the man frantically pushing the door-close button under other circumstances, but he was too fucking furious to care. It wasn’t enough that she’d taken his childhood home, but she was going to take one of his key employees in the process?
Unless she didn’t stop at a single employee.
A slow-dawning horror had him moving through the floor that held most of the high-level offices for the company. He counted five, seven, twelve empty desks, their personal effects stripped. In the offices, he was missing his COO and his director of media relations.
He could fill the empty positions given enough time, but trying to hold everything together without missing a beat and still being ready for the bid in six days? This might not be totally impossible, but it danced cheek-to-cheek with it.
He took out his phone and considered.
What Beckett really wanted to do was call Samara. It didn’t make any sense, but he held a deep assurance that hearing her voice would settle the jagged pieces inside him. Not her job. She’d made her priorities clear enough last night, and he couldn’t exactly blame her for it. Lydia had bolstered her career and they shared a long history. He might have meant it when he offered her a job, but she didn’t know that. Jumping companies wasn’t uncommon in their field—or in any field—but if word got out that she’d jumped while they were sleeping together, it could harm her future prospects.
So, yeah, he got why his job offer had pissed her off.
But it also meant that he couldn’t call her now to help him. They might match up well in bed, but they’d be a disastrous combo outside it. She was too proud and he was up to his nose in this bullshit surrounding his father’s death. Even if they weren’t a shitty match, the timing wasn’t anywhere near close to right.
He considered his phone. The timing for romance might be off, but that didn’t mean he had to cut her off completely. She was Lydia’s second-in-command, after all. She knew things about his aunt that no one else did outside her children. If he could get Samara to see that Lydia didn’t walk on water, he stood a chance of having an inside man—or woman—at Kingdom
Corp.
Excuses.
It’s a legit strategy.
Before he could think too hard about it, he pressed the call button.
Samara’s phone buzzed on the table for the fifth time in an hour, and she almost threw the damn thing across the room. All the prep work for the bid was done—had been done for days—but she had to present it, and therein lay the problem. She was fine with public speaking—better than fine. But being the one to give a presentation that so much depended on…
It needed to be perfect, which would be a whole lot easier to accomplish if everyone and their dog wasn’t trying to get ahold of her this Saturday.
Her phone trilled again, reminding her that she hadn’t dealt with this particular interruption yet. She snatched it up. “Samara Mallick.”
“Samara.” Beckett’s voice rolled through the line like the best kind of whiskey. Deep and a little rough around the edges. “How would you like a full tour of Morningstar Enterprise?”
She pulled her phone from her ear and double-checked that it was, in fact, Beckett. What’s he up to now? She’d made their respective positions pretty damn clear last night. When the sky didn’t open up and deliver her answers, she sighed. “I don’t have time to play these games with you. You might be able to flit around as you please, but some of us have to work for a living.” It wasn’t fair. She knew Beckett worked his ass off to secure contracts for the company and expand Morningstar’s influence, but driving home the difference in their roles was the only option she had to keep him at a distance.
“What would Lydia say if she knew you passed up a chance to see an unfiltered view of her biggest rival?”
She froze. She knew exactly what Lydia would say. Get your ass over there, distract him, and snoop. It sounded great in theory, but she got hung up on the distract him part. Samara knew exactly how she and Beckett got distracted. She’d already more than proven that she couldn’t keep herself in check when she was around him. Worse, she craved the way his touch stilled the rapid circling of her thoughts and cut through all the bullshit. When they were together, she wasn’t planning her next corporate move, or worrying about anticipating Lydia’s needs. She was just Samara, the woman.
That’s what made Beckett King so damn dangerous.
“Speechless?” His dark laugh took up residence in her stomach and then lower. She sank onto her couch. Damn you, Beckett.
“Never.” She bit out. There were only two options at this point. She could hang up the phone, go back to working on her presentation…or she could agree to meet Beckett and see what information she could gather. Samara doubted he intended to give her anything she could use against him, but just because that was his plan didn’t mean she had to go along with it. “What time would you like to meet?”
“Now.”
She wet her lips, trying to control the pounding of her heart. “Right now?”
“Unless you have something more important to do?”
She looked at the presentation notes spread across her living room. Several notebooks with different-colored writing, more pens than one woman should probably own, and a master timeline for the income she’d projected for Kingdom Corp. Samara closed her eyes. “You can’t just crook your finger and expect me to come running.”
“I’m not Lydia. I’m not treating you like a pet.” Something rustled in the background, and she could perfectly picture him leaning back in his chair and straightening his muscled legs. “I’ll order in lunch. Be here in an hour.” Beckett hung up, leaving her wondering if she should curse him or admire his ingenuity.
He’s got an agenda. I can’t afford to forget that.
With that in mind, she dialed Lydia. Her boss barely let the phone ring. “Is this important, Samara? I’m in the middle of something.”
“Beckett King just invited me to Morningstar Enterprise for a business lunch.”
A meaningful pause. “He’s moving fast.” Her disdain for Beckett practically oozed through the phone. As far as Samara knew, Beckett had never done anything to her boss personally. She could be wrong, but…
Still.
She straightened. “I’m confident I can gather information that will be useful.”
“I have no doubt you will do exactly that. I expect a full report Monday.” Lydia hung up.
Monday?
Samara dropped her phone onto the couch. What did Lydia think she’d be doing for the next thirty-six hours that she wouldn’t report until Monday? Her stomach lurched.
She almost called Journey, but there wasn’t anything more to say. Beckett had issued the invitation, Lydia had supported her accepting it. Overthinking things at this point wouldn’t do anything but waste more time.
Samara was ready inside of thirty minutes—a small miracle—and picked a fitted green dress that did wonders for her breasts and ass. Strictly speaking, it was a little too sexy for a business meeting, but she’d already blown the chance to keep her relationship with Beckett professional.
Not to mention, anything that gave her an edge at this point was an asset.
Sure. That’s why you’re pulling out all the stops. To distract Beckett.
It’s sure as hell not because you want to see that look of appreciation in his dark eyes.
Definitely not.
Chapter Seven
Heaven was Samara in a little green dress.
Beckett watched her walk across the lobby, her mile-long legs eating up the distance with ease. That glimpse of wildness she’d given him last night was in full effect today, her hair a mass of black waves that seemed to curl and snap around her shoulders with each step. Her dress fitted her like a second skin, sloping down over her breasts, her stomach, to her hips and thighs.
But it was her dark eyes that drew and held him. Anger and desire and something like guilt lingered there, and she held his gaze as she stopped in front of him. “Do I meet your expectations?”
“You’re beautiful.”
She arched a single eyebrow. “I know.”
That surprised a laugh out of him. Beckett turned to the elevator bank and offered his elbow. The gentlemanly move was over-the-top for their current circumstances, but he couldn’t be this close to her without touching her. Kissing her now, here, was a terrible damn idea, so he’d settle for the small touch. “No false modesty. I like that.”
“I think we’ve established that I don’t operate based on what you like.” Despite her words, amusement pulled at the edges of her lips, and she set her hand carefully on his forearm. “Every time I think I have your number down, you surprise me. Most guys get pissy pants if a woman doesn’t fall at their feet when they call her beautiful.”
“I’m not most guys.” He waited for the elevator door to open and led her onto it. “You can’t fit me into a box and write me off, Samara.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” She shook her head, her hair brushing against his shoulder. “My life would be a whole lot easier if I could.”
He couldn’t argue that, so he didn’t bother. Beckett took them up to the executive level. He noted the way she studied everything, obviously filing away every bit of information she could lay her eyes on. “What does Lydia pay you these days?”
She dropped her arm and stepped back. “Oh no. I don’t think so.” She pointed at him. “We went over this last night. I’m not for sale.”
“It’s an innocent question.”
“It is most definitely not an innocent question.” She looked like she wanted to take off her shoe and throw it at his head. “I don’t care what issue you and your aunt have. I’m not part of it. You don’t get to use me as leverage. I’m not a pawn for either of you to sacrifice in this pissing match you have going on.”
Shame tried to take hold, but he wouldn’t let it. Samara knew the game, no matter how much it apparently offended her. “I’m the bad guy for trying to offer you a job, but I’m sure you agreed to show up here solely out of the goodness of your heart.” He pretended to think about it. “Wait, no
you didn’t—which you already admitted. You’re here because Lydia wants to do whatever it takes to sink Morningstar. Full stop.” He motioned at the offices behind him. “Wake up, Samara. I’m only playing the game she made the rules for.”
She took in the empty COO office on the other side of the glass wall. “She poached your employees.”
“Convenient timing, don’t you think?”
“You’re not still harping on that paranoid talk about Lydia meeting Nathaniel.” Samara hesitated and then moved to stand in front of him. She pressed her lips together and then very gently said, “Do you think maybe it’s a good idea for you to talk to someone?”
Beckett jerked back. “What?”
There was nothing but sympathy in her dark eyes. “I’m serious, Beckett. I’ve known you a long time, at least by reputation, and this delusion you have going isn’t like you. Is it possible that Nathaniel’s death is hitting you harder than you realize? That you’re fixating on Lydia instead of your own grief because it’s easier to deal with an enemy than face the fact you can never make things right with your father?”
Every word flayed him, cutting to the quick. Beckett gritted his teeth against the need to tell Samara that she was the one who wasn’t thinking clearly. To yell. To expel some of the ugliness that had been brewing in him for a very, very long time. “I didn’t call you here to offer you a job, and I sure as fuck don’t need a shrink.”
She stood her ground as he advanced. Her heels put them at the same height and she still managed to look down her nose at him. “Then why did you call me here?”
Because I can’t spend another fucking moment alone without going out of my mind.
He didn’t say it. To admit how long it had been since he’d felt a connection with another person was to hand Samara—Lydia—a loaded gun and invite her to point it directly at his heart. He didn’t answer her verbally at all. Beckett cupped her waist and slowly pulled her against him, giving her plenty of time to register his intentions.
