Sweet Pain (Amatucci Family #3) - Sadie Jacks Page 0,71
was going to try to hit on me or slack off because of a pretty face. The man was efficiency personified and the best hire—other than Nik—I’d ever made.
“Thanks, Anthony, it’s good to be here.” I pulled Willow up beside me. “This is Ms. Willow Chase. You’ll be seeing her around from now on. She’s to be given priority clearance and open access to me.”
Willow gave a little wave. “Your name is really Anthony?” she asked, a smile on her face.
Anthony smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Kismet.”
Willow chuckled. “Indeed. Nice to meet you officially. Feel free to call me Willow.”
Anthony bowed his salt and pepper head slightly. “Yes, Ms. Willow.”
They both laughed.
“Have you heard from Baxter?” I asked before they could get even more tickled at our shared name.
Anthony straightened, shook his head. “Should I have?”
“No. I was just checking. Put him through immediately if he calls.” I turned Willow in the direction of my office.
“Of course, Mr. Penn.”
I raised a hand in the air to let him know I heard him. We walked down the hall, our shoes squeaking slightly on the brushed marble floors. I slid my arm around Willow’s hips, so fucking happy to have her in my space again.
The day she’d brought me cupcakes broadcast through my mind in full technicolor 4K detail. She bitten her lips so much they’d looked red and bruised. But the fire in her eyes…that’s what had drawn me in. That hunger and challenge to be better. To be good enough for her.
I pushed open the door, let her walk through first. I took in my space, tried to see it with fresh eyes. Much like my home a couple floors above, it was done in subdued tones of blues and green.
My father had been the one to need the flash of chrome, the sharp edges of glass. My ass was stuck in that chair enough hours of the day that I wanted something comfortable and cozy to look at and feel. Chrome and glass had no warmth.
My oversized desk probably looked like I was trying to compensate for something, but I really did use all of the real estate on a fairly regular basis. When one ran a tech company, one was usually surrounded by various computer parts. The wood was raw edged, shined to a high sheen with resin, and looked like a mountain man’s wet dream.
The rest of the furniture was oversized and overfilled. Comfortable enough to stretch out on if I was pulling an all-nighter, but not so inviting to keep meetings longer than they needed to last. One whole wall was privacy-coated glass that flooded the room with light.
The look and feel was a bit like me, I imagined. Oversized, raw, a bit in your face. I shut the door and leaned against it as I watched Willow take in the space. I studied her face as she took in each corner.
If anyone ever asked, I would deny it with every breath, but I was the slightest bit nervous as I waited for her to speak. For all that we’d crashed into each other’s lives, this was one part that hadn’t overlapped. I’d been in her space, but this was her first time in mine.
She spun another lazy circle as she took everything in. She walked to the far wall, danced her fingers over the books on the shelves that lined the wall. “Have you read all these?”
I snorted. “No. Mostly they’re for show. My mother thought I needed them to make me look more cultured. They’re from her and William’s library. When I get down time, I usually watch sports or a movie at home. Or reread Harry Potter.”
She tucked her hands into her back pockets, turned back to face me. “Thank the goddess. I’m not much of a reader, so I didn’t want to look like an idiot if you’d read all of these.”
I laughed, crossed my arms over my chest. “Never an idiot. At least not to me.” I bit my lip. “So?”
She blinked. “So what?”
I rolled my eyes and growled. “What do you think?” I waved a hand at the space. “You’re killing me here.”
Her giggle brought a smile to my face. “Is self-proclaimed bad boy Mr. Ryker Penn nervous about my opinions of his private office?”
“If I say yes, will you come give me a kiss to make me feel better?”
Her lips quirked. “Maybe.” She walked to my desk, ran her fingers over the edge. “I like your desk.”