Page 18

EIGHTEEN

Brantley

Did I need Miss Rhodes to come to this meeting? Absolutely not. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her continue to sit in the office with my idiot brother and best friend hanging around her and roaming the hallways for the rest of the day.

Maybe with their distraction removed, they’ll finally be able to get some work done.

Unlike the two of them, I don’t care what Miss Rhodes does in her personal life. She is my employee, and I am her boss. That’s it.

End of story.

Which is why when August Gray, one of Hollywood’s favorite sweethearts, reached out for a last minute meeting, who was I to say no?

“Thank you.” I grab my coffee from the barista, turning to head to an empty table in the corner of the cafe when I see some writing on the cup he’s getting ready to hand to Miss Rhodes.

I spin on my heel, snatching the coffee before she can lay a single finger on it. Yeah, I just said I don’t want to be involved in her personal life, and I don’t. This is business. We’re meeting a potential client, and I don’t need him thinking my secretary is here to pick up men. Men who aren’t even that creative.

With a grunt I turn the cup, noting his name—Chris, apparently—and his number scrawled underneath the cafe logo and swiftly hand it back to him. He blinks at me, his mouth hanging open, and continues to let the cup dangle between us.

Perfect. He’s a mouth breather and definitely not good enough for Miss Rhodes.

“I’m going to need another coffee. This one seems to be damaged.”

He continues staring at me like I’ve started speaking another language or grown a third leg out of my ass. Either way, he needs to snap out of it before I snap his neck, figuratively speaking.

“It was for her.” Chris points to my secretary, ducking his head, his shoulders stooping with the weight of his bad decisions. He looks at the space between us, but still doesn’t make a move to grab the coffee. “I didn’t know she was with you.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Ellis.” She puts a gentle hand on my arm, peering up at me with her baby blues, tempting me to let this go, but I didn’t get this far in my career by being a pushover.

“It’s not.” My voice is firm as I manage to pull my gaze away from hers and set it back on him. “She will need a new coffee. One that’s not vandalized.”

She makes a soft noise at the back of her throat, one that has my dick twitching, and it takes all my willpower to ignore it. Along with the pretty pink blush spreading across her cheeks. Nope. Not falling into her trap. Not doing it.

“The coffee.” I shake the cup at him, my eyes narrowing until he finally snaps into action, taking it from my hand and tossing it in the trash. Exactly where it belongs.

She leans toward me, her strawberry scent invading my senses, and I take a generous drink of my scalding hot coffee, anything to drive her out. “Was that necessary?” she whispers, her lashes fluttering.

“Completely.” I glance down at her, my tongue practically on fire, but I barely feel a thing. I’ve never been this close to her before and for good reason. I can see the different shades of blue in her irises, the mix of emotions swirling in their depths. She’s confused, embarrassed, but there’s also something else I’m afraid to pick out.

I can practically taste her as her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

This is dangerous.

“People are staring.” She glances around, taking in the few people standing in line behind us, completely oblivious to my plight.

She’s an employee. I’m her boss.

“Let them.”

She takes a deep breath, her arm brushing against mine, and I ignore the zap of electricity jolting through me at the contact.

I’m her boss.

Chris is back with a fresh coffee, in an untarnished cup, which he hands to her with a grimace. Sorry, to foil your plans. This is one woman you will not be disappointing.

What’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t care either way. But damn, I don’t like the idea of this asshole’s hands on her. I can tell you I won’t be back to this establishment. It’s unprofessional. Like me at the moment.

With her drink in hand, I usher her to a table in the back corner, my hand hovering inches away from her lower back. Why? Because apparently I no longer control my own appendages. I couldn’t be more annoyed with myself. Maybe I should have left her at the office for Wyatt and Maverick to fawn over. I thought I was stronger than this; I should be stronger than this.

“After you,” I murmur, gesturing for her to sit closest to the wall.

Her eyes widen slightly, clutching her purse as her gaze volleys between the two chairs. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the inside chair?”

“Yes. Is there a problem, Miss Rhodes?”

She shakes her head, glancing away from me for a moment. “I think you can call me Kinsley now.”

“Very well.” I swallow past the lump growing in my throat and loosen my tie a fraction. “After you, Kinsley.”

Her eyes flare as her name tumbles from my lips, and I take another drink of the hot coffee, anything to keep my mind from wandering to places it has no business going.

Luckily, she listens, unpacking her phone and a notepad before she sits. I take the spot next to her, wishing I had the foresight to grab my briefcase. I don’t need it, she’s going to be taking notes, but it would be nice to have something to occupy my time, to keep my thoughts from wandering to the woman beside me.

Too late for that .

As she glances at her phone, I can’t help but wonder if she’s gone through with it, if she’s listing herself for sale on that website. I haven’t checked, and I’m not going to. But if she has, what is she hoping for? Companionship? Money? Or is it simply getting rid of her innocence in a way that pads her bank account?

I can’t fault her for any of those things. It’s her life and her decision to make, even if I?—

“Brantley Ellis, I presume?” August Gray takes a seat across from me, extending a hand for me to shake.

He’s drinking an iced coffee, something with more whipped cream than anything else. He’s wearing ripped jeans, a simple T-shirt, and a Nashville Aces football hat which he tugs low on his face. If he wanted anonymity, he shouldn’t have picked such a public place. I work hard to make sure my face is kept out of the news, but August is plastered all over it, has been for years.

“In the flesh.” I give him a tight smile, gesturing to Kinsley . “This is my assistant. She’s here to take notes, but rest assured, everything you say here today will be confidential whether you choose to go with our firm or not.”

August gives her what I’m sure is a dazzling smile, but I fail to see the appeal. Just like I failed to see any of his movies. “August Gray.”

“Kinsley Rhodes.” She takes his extended hand but instead of giving it a customary shake, he brings her hand to his lips, brushing them across her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gray.”

She giggles—fucking giggles at him—and I’m not sure if it’s the sultry way she whispered Mr. Gray or the way his mouth brushed across the back of her hand. All I know is that I hate it. And I hate that I hate it.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Another one of those smiles. “Please, call me August.”

I can see why he’s getting divorced.

Kinsley blushes, her cheeks turning more crimson than before, and I force myself to take a deep breath. My blood is simmering, searing through me like this hot ass coffee, and my stomach drops. I don’t know what this is, but I sure as hell don’t like it. It must be the caffeine.

I want to punch something, preferably Mr. Gray and his whole charming act, but there’s no way I’m going to do that to a prospective client. Jesus.

First the barista, and now this.

I really should have left her at the office. I have so many regrets.

“So, Mr. Gray, how can I help?” I clear my throat, folding my hands on the table in front of me. “You said you were looking to get a divorce?”

His Hollywood confidence shatters as his gaze shifts from Kinsley to me. “That’s unfortunately correct. Turns out marrying an actress with a known drug problem didn’t shape up to be the happy marriage we portrayed it to be in interviews.”

“Is the divorce amiable?”

“No. She wants to work it out, but between the cocaine she refuses to stop using and her boyfriend, I can’t.”

I almost feel bad for him. Almost. He did choose to marry someone he knew had a drug problem. Hell, he chose to marry someone period. Although, I guess if he and the other fifty percent of the US didn’t get married, I wouldn’t have a job when it inevitably ended in divorce.

“Let me tell you a little about how we work at Ellis, Ellis, and Wallace, especially when we’re working with someone with a higher public profile, such as yourself. We have a few talented individuals specializing in marketing and PR who will be at your disposal as you deal with the media and are there to help curb any attacks that can and will come from your wife.” I take another drink of my coffee, my eyes drifting to the woman sitting next to me.

She checks her phone, shifts in her chair, and then checks her phone for a second time. Her lip twitches. She grips the edge of the table. “Excuse me; I need to use the restroom.” She chokes out a laugh. “This coffee just ran right through me.”

Yeah, sure . The coffee that sits in front of her remains mostly untouched. Thanks to my dumbass brother, I’m pretty sure I know why she needs to go to the bathroom, and it has nothing to do with how much she’s had to drink today.

I can’t stop her. I don’t want to stop her. Lie.

“We’ll be here when you get back.” Another smile from Mr. Gray as he gestures toward her.

I make an attempt to give her a smile, but it wobbles as my gaze zeroes in on the phone she’s gripping tightly between her fingers. “Do you always take your phone in the bathroom?” Don’t know why I’m asking that. It shouldn’t matter what she does with her phone or what website she may or may not be loading a profile on, but it sure doesn’t stop me from pointing to it and saying, “You can leave it here.”

Her eyes widen, and she clutches her phone to her chest. Am I being unreasonable? Yes. Can I stop myself? No.

Even August is eying me like I’ve lost my mind, and you know what, there’s a good chance he’s right.

“Is there a problem?”

The longer we stare at each other, the tighter she clutches her phone, and the faster my heart beats.

She opens her mouth, closes it, and then peers around the cafe. “I…uh…I need to check in with my brother too.”

What can I say to that? A big fat nothing. So I stand up like the chode I am and wave her toward the bathroom like I’m Vanna Fucking White. And because the universe hates me right now, August excuses himself to take a phone call, leaving me here to stew.

I’m being completely inappropriate. I know it, and so do you. I had no business berating the barista for giving her his phone number. No business growling at August because he kissed the back of her hand. And I sure as fuck have no business opening my phone to log into the account I created with Cherry Bid. So not only am I inappropriate, but I’m also a hypocrite.

Life is full of revelations for me today.

But it doesn’t keep me from scrolling through the sellers and refreshing the list when I don’t find her on my first search.

My breath catches in my throat, and my heart hammers in my chest. There she is, right at the top of the page. She’s outside wearing a simple white sundress, her smile so genuine I almost find myself smiling back. Almost. Because while she looks so fucking gorgeous it hurts, she’s listing herself for sale, for someone who’s not her boss to buy the innocence she’s teasing me with.

Goddamn it.

She should be mine. Fuck.

She should stay far, far away from me.

I’m a miserable bastard, and I’d only bring her down. She doesn’t want some washed-up man fifteen years older than her. She doesn’t need my damage, my rough edges, my baggage.

She deserves so much better than me.

Which is why I deactivate my account and slip my phone in my pocket.

I’m her boss; that’s it. That’s all it can ever be.