Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
I didn’t even hear anyone knock. He’s my eyes when I’m focused on the sole thing in front of me, whatever that may be. We’ve been this way since we were scrawny little thirteen-year-olds. I was blinded to everything around me by what was right in front of me even then, and he always had my back.
My eyes narrow on the sales price. Fair. Not too high and not too low. Collins and Maxwell Subsidiaries both leave the sale feeling good. Nobody screwed the other. Just business. But that stubborn old fuck has been yanking my chain for months. Milking it for all he could. He knows I wanted that resort. Not because I wanted to plow it down and sell the land. Because I just wanted it. A beautiful New England high-end resort overlooking the glorious Atlantic. I’d stayed there on a business trip and fell in love. I’ve torn apart the owner’s financials, the land records, every single builder who contributed to the construction, the staff, the—
Slap.
I blink away my daze and dart my eyes over to my spotter. His eyes are widened and his feet are no longer on my desk. Something is happening, but I’m so wrapped up in my head I don’t even realize it. This is why I need him. I’m vulnerable without him. Always have been.
“Gray,” he bites out in a firm tone. “Miss Simmons is here to see you.”
I frown at him before dragging my attention to the heavily breathing female standing in front of my desk. Her palm is flat against a piece of paper that she has pinned to the surface of my desk.
My eyes travel up her nicely manicured nails, past her delicate wrist, along her slender arm that’s still visible despite the sheer white blouse she’s wearing. By the time my gaze is on her shoulder, I can’t help but skim across her pert breasts and then up her throat. A strand of old pearls hangs at the base of her neck. These aren’t the type of pearls you find at Tiffany’s or some other high-end shop. And they sure as hell aren’t cheap. These are an heirloom, probably passed down to her. Something my mother would have worn when she was herself. Something that would have belonged to her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. The pearls are unique and—
“I quit.”
Her throat is bright red and her chest still heaves. I skim the rest of the way up, bypassing her feminine features, to meet the fiery, brown-eyed gaze of a woman. Miss Simmons, as Bull says.
“What?” My brows furrow together in confusion. This woman, whom I don’t even know, is pissed at me. As if I’ve personally wronged her. I’m careful about the women I sleep with. I have certain requirements. Certain expectations. Not once has that ever come back to bite me in the ass.
“You have my notice,” she snaps, her brown eyes narrowing at me. “Two weeks.”
Her nostrils flare with anger, and the pieces begin to slot together. She works for me. I think. Why the hell didn’t she just take this nonsense to Clint in HR?
“Gray,” Bull says in a calm tone, forcing me to drag my attention to him. “This is your assistant. Miss Simmons. She’s been bringing you coffee and doing other administrative tasks for you for six years.”
“Unbelievable,” she huffs.
Jerking my gaze back over to her, I take in her face more thoroughly this time. She’s pretty. Really pretty. High cheekbones dusted in a rouge color that may or not be dark because of her apparent rage. Intense brown eyes that hold a story locked tight behind them. A small upturned nose that fits her face perfectly. And the most succulent lips I’ve ever seen on a woman. Full. Slightly parted. Painted a color that reminds me of blood. Her silky brown hair has shimmering strands of gold in it. And every time she moves, they catch the light. She fucking sparkles.
How did I not notice her until now?
Bull leans forward and motions for me to look at him. I do. I always do. He knows how I get. And right now, all obsession over the Collins deal is swept to the side as something pretty and shiny takes its place.
“Focus.” His one word helps clear my mind. I stare him down as he pops a piece of gum in his mouth.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
“Hello,” Miss Simmons says in an exasperated tone, waving her hands to catch my attention. “In case you missed it, I won’t be here any longer to bring you your scheduled coffee. I won’t be here for the next board meeting where those old pricks get to paw all over me and say crude things. I will no longer be here to save you. If it weren’t for me,” she motions to the contract still in my fingers, “you’d still be having to take that disgusting old man out to dinners and for rounds of golf!”