him into the small trailer, thinking the whole time that he must have been almost fucking melting in his full suit when half the men I’d already spotted on site were stripped down to at least a tank top, if not much less.
There was a small table at the end of the trailer. He took a seat on one side and gestured with me to take the other. I slipped into the bench seat and placed my things on the table before pushing my shoulders back while fighting to keep the knot in my throat from choking me.
“It’s nice to see you dressed appropriately,” Drake commented, his voice a little gravelly. “Thanks for that.”
I nodded. “Sounds like you’ve had problems before.”
He scoffed and leaned back into the seat. “Don’t even get me started. I have enough trouble keeping these assholes on track as it is without some floozy wandering around a worksite wearing a skirt, six-inch heels, and no fucking hard hat.” His brow pulled into a deep frown.
I looked down at my denim jeans and heavy worn work boots before returning my gaze to Drake with a shrug and a smile. “I’ve fought way too hard to get to where I am today. I’m not looking to waste all the crap I’ve been through.”
The corner of his mouth pulled up, and he reached for my folder, slipping it toward him before spinning it around and flipping open the front page. On the phone, he’d asked me to bring some designs—places of my own creation along with images of styles and floor plans I liked.
I’d gone through three years of school for this shit.
A lot of people thought interior designing was simply picking pretty fabrics and accent pillows, but it was so much more. I could draw plans, I could remove walls, I could completely redesign the walls in a house if I wanted to.
I understood spaces. How they worked together. How they flowed.
“These are good.”
“Thank you.”
“Probably better than the designs we have, to be honest,” he mumbled under his breath, his fingers pinching at his brow. That was the first time I noticed the tattoos peeking out from beneath the cuffs of his business shirt. They were bright, colorful, and quickly snapped away the second he noticed my gaze linger a little too long. “The woman who did up these designs, she was the daughter of the company. Barely a year into her training but forced to work when Daddy threatened to cut her off financially.”
My entire body visibly cringed. “Can I see the plans?”
Reluctantly, he pulled the floor plans from a briefcase next to him and slipped them across the table. This was going to be a large apartment building. Not only was the designer expected to design and decorate the lobby and conference areas on the first floor, but there were also going to be at least six levels with a range of different sized and shaped apartments above it.
The second I looked at the apartment plans, I knew I was about to face a challenge.
“These have already been approved by the engineer,” I noted out loud, flicking through one after another.
“Did you see the construction site outside?” he growled before sucking in a sharp breath and easing his tone. “This is what we have. Is it that fucking bad?”
They weren’t bad, but they were nowhere near good.
“I can work with them.”
“Drake?” a young man poked his head through the door. “The foreman is here. He wants to finalize plans before they start doing things that can’t be changed later.”
“All right, Zoey,” Drake announced, getting to his feet. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I scurried to gather all my things and shove them back into my folder before answering, “But I’ve only just taken a glance at the plans. I need to take a good look, get a feel for the room,” I exclaimed, rushing out after him and almost face planting into the dirt.
“Well, what better way to get a feel for the room than standing in it.”
Fuck.
4
Huntsman
“Round them up.”
Though it was almost pitch black, I could see the smiles on my boys’ faces light up like fucking kids on Christmas morning.
They sunk back into the darkness, their black clothing disappearing into the shadows. It was almost too easy.
The middle of the desert.
No street lights.
No cars.
Nowhere to fucking run.
I stood in the center of the three cabins, which were organized in a U shape. One was the mess hall and a couple of rooms for Regan and