Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,185

just cut the ribbon last week.” She taps some keys then scrolls her laptop. “Yep. Last Thursday was their official opening.”

“What do they do?” I sit on the couch next to her.

“Julie’s article says they sell solutions.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

She scans the article a little more. “It says they’re involved in predictive analytics and they’re looking to hire consultants.”

“I understand about half the words you just said.”

She shrugs. “Ask while you’re there.”

I stand to leave the room when I hear her voice. It’s quiet and gentle.

“Are you sure you’re okay with the whole Mark Ashton thing?”

I shrug. “It is what it is. Or, rather, it was what it was. One amazing night, and I’m sure I’ll get over it at some point.”

I can still feel his cashmere blanket wrapped around my arms when I think hard enough, can still feel his tongue brushing against mine. The image of his fingertips running along my thigh flashes through my mind. It’s only been two days. Surely this anguish will fade in time. “Thanks for asking.”

* * *

I feel underdressed in jeans and my DLHS shirt as I arrive at the FDB Tech Corp headquarters the next afternoon after a half day of final exams. Their business spans the entire twelfth floor of a building two blocks off the Strip.

The black metal and glass structure in front of me is intimidating. The big Ferris wheel behind one of the hotels is just a couple of blocks over, huge in my view at the moment. I think of all the tourists who come through this town to party, gamble, or tuck singles into strippers’ G-strings, but to me, it’s home.

A petite and pretty blonde sits behind the desk in a professional black business outfit in front of me when the elevator doors open. The office has that new-office smell—recently dried paint on the light gray walls and new plush, black and gray weave carpeting, but there’s something else in the air. Something coconutty, almost like sunscreen but nicer.

The blonde looks up and smiles warmly. “Hi there. Can I help you?”

“Yes, I have a one-thirty appointment with Mr. Fox.”

She glances at her screen. “Reese Brady?”

“That’s me.”

She smiles. “Great. Have a seat and someone will be up shortly to escort you back. Can I get you some water?”

“That would be great,” I say, and she hands me a bottle before I sit. It’s swanky in here with the gray and black theme. A few people walk down a hallway to my right, and even they match the décor in their black business attire. I feel even more underdressed than I did back in the parking lot.

A gorgeous, intimidating woman with wavy brown hair steps around the corner. She’s wearing a tight, black dress, and even though she comes across as incredibly professional, she looks ready for a night out in Vegas, like she can just leave straight from work to head to the next party. Her shrewd, brown eyes land on me, and she doesn’t mask her disdain as she takes in my blue jeans and t-shirt. “Reese Brady?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

I stand and smile awkwardly as I wonder if this woman has ever felt awkward in her entire life. “That’s me.”

“Follow me.”

She leads me to one of the corner offices, her heels somehow clicking on the plushy carpet as I follow behind in my much more comfortable Converse. An empty desk that I assume is hers sits just in front of the office. The plaque outside the door reads Brian Fox.

I stand behind her as she steps into the doorway of his office. “Mr. Fox, Reese Brady is here to see you.”

“Thanks, Kelsey.” His voice is deep, and before I even see the man himself, I can tell just from that deep timbre that he’s going to be gorgeous. “Send her in.”

She steps aside, and my eyes fall onto the man sitting behind the black desk.

I was right. He’s gorgeous.

But it’s not just that.

I recognize him.

It’s the man who helped me pick up everything that fell out of my purse the morning I escaped Mark Ashton’s place. I stop dead in my tracks and have the sudden urge to run back out the door. How the hell am I supposed to beg this man for money?

His dark hair is almost black and his eyes are such a piercing green that he’s almost looking through me. His gaze pins me to my spot in the doorway. He’s sitting behind his desk, a