Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I raced across town, shuffling with the masses on the Tube, then speed-walking a block to the Shard. I didn’t gape at the cathedral-high windows or marvel that little ol’ me from Nowhere, New Mexico had a badge that said I belonged here amongst these well-heeled London executives. Nope, I kept my eyes forward as I rode the lift to the upper level, straightened my spine in front of Julia’s office, and raised my hand to knock out of habit.
That probably wasn’t necessary since she wasn’t supposed to be here today. I assumed she’d left instructions for me on her desk, though, so I shifted my hand to the doorknob…just as Cecil, the annoying HR man rounded the corner.
He cast a wary glance at the closed door and shoved a tablet at me. “Thank God. Here, sign this. It’s for international tax purposes. Hurry up about it. He’s here.”
I signed as instructed and returned it to him, furrowing my brow. “Who?”
“Mr. Horsham.”
“Oh.” The boss, the big kahuna, the chief, the guy who’d built a multibillion-pound firm from nothing. “Right.”
I thought I’d read Horsham’s bio ages ago when I’d first considered applying for a job on the opposite side of the Atlantic, but I couldn’t remember a thing now. The company was solid, legit, and well-respected, and that was all I’d needed to know. After I’d received the “you’re hired” email, my biggest concern had been figuring out how to cut ties and logistically make this happen. And now that I was here, it was sink or swim, learning how to cope in a foreign country.
Bottom line…it hadn’t occurred to me to be freaked out about meeting the man whose name graced the company logo, because part of me had figured it wasn’t going to happen anyway.
“I’ve heard he’s in a mood, and I’d rather not become a Monday morning casualty. Good luck.” Cecil licked his lips and tilted his chin meaningfully, pointing at my chest. “What’s that on your shirt?”
“Nothing,” I replied sharply, stepping around him to knock on the door.
I waited for Cecil to move along to fuss with my lapel. Shit balls. I’d really been counting on a morning with Dapper Darwin, not Horsham. If the big boss asked finance questions, I’d be screwed. He’d know I bungled my way into a position I wasn’t qualified for.
Then again, no one fired off math-type questions on the fly, did they?
Walking away was still an option. I could slink into the shadows, head downstairs and—
“Come in,” Julia called.
I sucked in a deep breath and pushed the heavy wood door open. “Good morning. Welcome back.”
Julia stood at the bank of windows, wearing a fashionable red fitted dress and a tight-lipped expression. She motioned for me to enter, communicating volumes in the tilt of her chin and stiff posture—slightly panicked and trying not to show it.
“Thank you. I have a meeting in a few minutes, and I believe I’d left instructions with Victoria for you to see Darwin directly.”
Oh, fuck. “No problem. Sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no bother. And since you’re here…I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Horsham.”
A large man with short salt-and-pepper hair unfolded himself from the chair in front of Julia’s desk on cue. He slipped a cell phone into the pocket of his impeccably tailored suit before pivoting toward the door, his face hidden in shadows.
I couldn’t make out his features, but there was something familiar about him. Maybe I’d seen his photo around the office or online? No, that wasn’t it. Horsham moved like a panther, unhurried and uninterested, and dangerous with it. I willed myself not to flinch as he stepped into the puddle of sunshine streaked across the Persian rug.
I stuck my hand out like a boss, fixed a smile into place. “Pleased to meet you, Mr…”
That was as far as I got.
Blood drained from my face as recognition dawned.
No.
No way.
No, it couldn’t be. London was a huge city. Millions of people lived here. Millions. No way was this the same guy I met in—
“Raine.”
Fuck. Me.
7
GRAHAM
Bloody hell.
Bloody fucking hell.
This was a first. I could honestly report that I’d never had a lover turn up on my payroll out of the blue. Shock rendered me witless and speechless.
It was him. The last time I’d seen Raine had been in a dim Vegas hotel room. His hair had been tousled, his skin flushed, and his lips swollen. He’d been beautiful—the way impossible creatures were.
He looked different now, but that might have been the light. I stared at him, shamelessly cataloguing this new version of him in rumpled khakis and an ill-fitted sport coat that sagged at the shoulders. And was there something on his shirt? A stain of some sort? His hair was longer now too. It curled at his ears and God, I wanted to brush a lock of it from his eyes.