Page 7

SEVEN

Kinsley

I’ve only been in my office for fifteen minutes, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. I’ve organized my pens—starting with Suck A Dick Sunday and ending with Shit Show Saturday—watered my cactus, stashed my Kindle in my desk, and now I’m staring out into the empty hallway.

Surely, the other secretaries didn’t quit because they had nothing to do.

Although, it could have been the distinct lack of color and personality in this place—not only this office but the entire top floor. The only thing missing is the padded walls.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that I have more than a small desk in the middle of a crowded floor, but jeez. I’m going to need something to look at if I’m going to be here for any length of time. And I will. With my brother’s surgery to save up for, there’s no way I can pass up the salary.

Would be nice to have something to do, though. This morning is dragging some serious ass.

I’m half tempted to snoop through the three offices behind me and figure out exactly who I’m working for, but the doors are closed and with what I’m guessing is one-way glass, I can’t casually walk by, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beasts within.

At least if I’m sitting in here bored out of my mind, I’m not in their crosshairs.

So, I check my email, read a few chapters in the billionaire romance I’ve been dying to start, and as I’m about to check my email again, realize my legs are asleep. Perfect. With a groan, I shift around in my new, old-as-fuck chair, noting the lack of lumbar support, and—oh, pins and needles. Dang it. My feet are tingling, and it feels like the lower half of my body is on fire.

I spin in my chair, ready to stand, when I spot a suited man with dark hair and a coffee cup obscuring most of his face walking by my office. The mug is plain white, no images, no cute sayings, and without a doubt filled with generic black coffee.

Boring .

What’s not boring? The very expensive looking navy blue suit clinging to this man’s broad shoulders.

If my spidey senses are correct, that’s one of the other senior partners. Hopefully one who doesn’t know I referred to him as an emotional vampire.

He lowers the mug, our eyes meet and—fuck me. He can suck the soul from my body any day of the week. Jesus Christ. What are they putting in the water up here? He’s just as good looking as Mr. Wallace, and I can’t help but wonder if the other Mr. Ellis is equally as gorgeous. He’s either this guy's brother or father, and I can’t wait to find out.

Actually no, I just got dumped. I don’t need to find out. I’m emotionally unavailable. Off the market. The door to my lady garden is closed.

But damn.

It doesn’t hurt to look, right?

Because this particular Ellis, either Wyatt or Brantley according to our website, has a chiseled jaw covered in a five o’clock shadow—my favorite—and glowering emerald eyes that are…piercing right through me.

Oh shit.

Fuck.

He’s looking right at me and if that frown on his face is anything to go by, he’s not happy to see me. I’m tempted to ask who pissed in his cereal but manage to bite my tongue. I’m sure Mr. Bossy Boss isn’t a fan of sass.

I smooth a hand down the front of my blouse and extend it, plastering a gigantic smile on my face as I head to the door. Fake it ’til you make it. “Hi there. I’m Kinsley Rhodes.” His coffee cup continues to lower inch by inch, his frown deepening, and when he makes no move to meet me, I lower my hand. “And you are?”

His lip twitches ever so slightly, but he otherwise ignores my question. Taking another slow sip of his coffee, his eyes never leave mine. “I need everything you can find on Bennett Holden on my desk in the next twenty minutes.”

Oh, yeah. This one has the personality of a porcupine. He’s definitely one of the other two senior partners.

“Bennett Holden, the Olympic champion?”

“The very same.” His voice is stern, his entire demeanor rigid. “My desk. Twenty minutes.”

The smile drops from my face, and I swallow. Hard. “And your desk is…?”

“I have a meeting with him in thirty. I suggest you get started.” His tone doesn’t waver and neither does his withering stare.

Perfect .

I’d love to roll my eyes and tell him in very vivid detail what he can do with that coffee mug of his, but I need this job, and his attitude isn’t going to bother me in the slightest. Or, at least, I’m going to pretend it doesn’t.

This man in his thousand dollar suit and fifty cent smile isn’t going to break me.

“Sure thing.” That smile is back on my face like armor, and I make a show of sitting down at my desk, pulling up the company database and my trusty Google search bar. Only, I can still feel his eyes on me. Am I not typing to his liking? Perhaps my posture isn’t stiff enough. I don’t lift my gaze, nope. I just use my sweetest voice, asking, “Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr…?”

His answering hum of displeasure is the only thing I get before he stomps to one of the offices to my right and closes the door with a resounding thud. I guess he’s not going to let me know which Ellis he is.

Very well, Mr. Grumpy Pants . I’ve read enough grumpy/sunshine romances to know there’s a heart somewhere under that gruff exterior. A very small heart buried very deep in his chest. I can only hope the other Mr. Ellis has more of a personality.

Doubtful, but still.

I spend the next twelve minutes printing off and organizing everything I can find on Bennett Holden. I’ve included every one of his competitions, scandals, relationships, profiles on his family, and the charities he supports. I even noted his shellfish allergy.

I’m double and triple checking my work when a throat clears right outside my office.

Smile firmly in place, I stand, file in hand with eight minutes to spare only to stop short on the way to my door. He’s…shaved. That’s freaking weird. Most guys take care of that at home before coming into the office, but you know, who am I to judge? Maybe he was running late this morning and didn’t have time.

It’s too bad; the scruff looked good on him.

“Here’s the file you requested for Bennett Holden.”

His head cocks to the side, his brows drawing together as his gaze rakes over me. I assumed I’d get some kind of approving grunt, not…confusion? Did he expect me to sit back, twirl my hair around my finger, and completely forget what he asked me to do?

I’ve always been good at my job, and despite this being my first day up here, his lack of faith in me stings. At the very least he could give me a thank you and a curt nod. I’d even take a thank you and a middle finger.

But it seems like that might be too much to ask for. Especially, when his eyes scan my face, a slow smirk spreading across his face. It’s an evil one, and I’d love to say it makes him less appealing, but it doesn’t. Not even close. The damn thing has my heart fluttering in my chest, and I’m forced to grip it as tight as I can so he won’t notice the tremble in my fingers.

What a see you next Tuesday.

“Kelsie, is it?” His fingers run down his tie, dancing along the silk in a way that shouldn’t be as mesmerizing as it is. And oh, he took off his vest. He can’t get my name right, or do his own research, but he has time to undress and shave. I don’t want to know what else he does in there.

I take a quick breath, shifting my eyes to his. “It’s actually?—”

“We’re going to be in a meeting for the next hour and need you to take notes.” He leans toward me, lingering in my space for several beats before snagging the file from my hands and leafing through it. “Or you can keep staring at your wall.”

I’m frozen for a second, blinking at him like an idiot, and really trying not to be affected by his spiced sandalwood scent, but luckily manage to nod.

I am a professional, after all.

A professional who is going to be in the same room with Bennett Holden, Olympic swimmer and winner of not one, not two, but eighteen gold medals. A professional who also happens to know exactly what he looks like in those little swim shorts. I might have internally squealed. And done a little dance. Family law might not have been my first choice, but damn if this place doesn’t have its perks. I’m pretty sure I saw country music star Ember Lynn in here last week, and she’s my favorite.

“And I’m going to need you to set up a lunch meeting at the Japanese place I went to last month.” He continues, and I’m still standing there nodding though I have no freaking clue what he did yesterday let alone last month.

Now I’m beginning to understand why secretaries don’t last long up here. These guys—at least this one—are oblivious.

“Are you two planning on blocking the hallway the entire morning?”

That voice…

The suit in front of me glances over my head and as I whip around, I somehow enter the twilight zone. There’s two of them and, of course, this guy is sporting scruff and is wearing the supposed missing vest from earlier. Twins. Freaking twins. Wyatt and Brantley, although there’s no way to tell who is who.

This isn’t going to be confusing at all. Not in the slightest. As long as he doesn’t shave his face, I should be okay. Maybe. Hopefully.

If he does, I’m screwed for sure. This is, of course, provided one of them introduces himself, and I can figure out who has the five o'clock shadow and who has the clean face.

Although, the look he gives me as he grabs the folder from his brother isn’t a friendly one. I might already be screwed. Someone really should have warned me about them. Thanks, Mrs. Monroe, for dropping the ball on that one.

The door across from mine opens, and Maverick joins us in the hallway, a huge smile stretching across his face. “I see everyone has gotten acquainted. Brantley. Wyatt. Miss Rhodes.”

He takes a step closer, and my chest tightens. I’m screwed either way.

The three of them stare at me, their eyes hard and posture stiff. Yeah, there’s a reason the secretaries up here don’t last very long, three of them. Three uptight bosses with thousand dollar suits, the inability to smile, and what I’m sure will be a long list of ridiculous demands.

Their eyes bore into me, the heavy weight of their gazes making it hard to breathe, hard to move, and my entire reality crashes down around me. I’m screwed. So freaking screwed. I’m going to have to find a new job. Hell, I got dumped yesterday for basically being an inanimate object. And the worst thing of all? Colin isn’t going to get his surgery. His one chance to hear will be gone because of me.

I’ve screwed up his life as much as my parents screwed up mine.

My hands tremble as they get closer, the space getting smaller, tighter. My stomach hollows out, and I realize I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast this morning. All coherent thoughts escape my brain, leaving only the deafening roar of my heartbeat.

Sweat trickles down my back and shit , my vision is fuzzy. I blink and then blink some more, willing myself to get it together, to breathe, to keep myself from falling flat on my ass.

Maverick crouches, his lips moving, but I can’t hear a thing. He turns to the twins. There’s a set of hands on my shoulders, who they belong to, I have no idea, but they might be the only thing keeping me upright.

I open my mouth to tell them I’m okay, that this will pass, but before I can get out a word, the hall tilts. My vision wavers, flashing in and out. I try to reach for someone. To grab something. To steady myself.

This time, the world doesn’t just tilt, it completely turns over and everything goes black.