Page 8 of Forbidden Billionaire (Titans #7)

There’s a fucking leak in my legal department? My temper flares.

Celeste presses on. “This is a press nightmare.”

“Spin it. In light of new information…” I wave my hand. She’s the wordsmith, not me.

“Spare me the redemption arc. She’s a liability. This is exactly what the press wants: PREDATOR KING REHIRES THE GIRL WHO GOT AWAY . ”

My jaw ticks. “She’s not the girl who got away.”

Celeste’s eyes narrow, catching the heat I’m trying to bury. You’re thinking with your dick. The words don’t leave her lips, but I can taste them in the air between us.

“Your reputation is made of tissue paper right now. Some members of the Lockhart board don’t trust you after that incident with Beaumont Lockhart’s sister.”

It was innocent. Not that the world believes that.

“And now you’re busy chasing a?—”

“Enough.” Temper flaring, I cut her off.

Mirroring her, I stand and slap my hands on the desk, leaning in close.

Then closer, crowding her space until she has to tilt her chin up.

“Seraphina Hollis is the weapon I need to get this deal done.” I’m barely hanging onto my sense of civility.

“She’s leverage. She’s insurance. She sees things no one else does.

” In a word, she’s fucking brilliant at what she does.

And she’s mine. That part stays behind my teeth, but it’s there as hot as it is undeniable.

Celeste stares me down, searching for a crack she won’t find. Not when it comes to Seraphina.

“Getting ahead of it will be our only hope. And you need to meet with Beaumont so he can settle his board. I’ll schedule a time.”

With that, she pushes off the desk, pivots, and walks from my office, shoulders back, heels striking the marble floor like a warning I might be stupid to ignore.

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving me alone with my cold coffee.

I drop back into my chair and run a hand through my hair, frustration coiled tight at the base of my spine.

My desk phone rings, breaking the tension Celeste left behind.

She’s smart, has made problems disappear for years. And the more rational part of my brain knows she has a point.

But frankly I don’t give a damn.

I let the call go to voicemail. Seraphina can check it later.

A few seconds later, my cell rings.

Hargrove.

Faster than I have a right to expect. “Mr. Blackwell.” He’s all lawyerly deference now that he’s survived my temper once this morning. “We’ve incorporated every clause—salary, severance, benefits.” He pauses and clears his throat. “Apartment.”

“Did you find one?”

“Tasha Leclerc, a property acquisition specialist, on the way to check out a couple of locations. Each with two bedrooms, two baths. Amenities.”

“Secure. With a doorman.” I want her protected. From men like me.

“Noted. We have our standard nondisclosure, noncompete. And to protect the company, arbitration only. No lawsuits.”

We probably don’t need that. But I don’t push back on this front. Let him have one win. After all, he’s looking out for the company. “I need her phone number and email address.”

He gives me both. I don’t bother to ask how he has the information. Blackwell Enterprises is a generations-deep company that has vast resources.

“With your permission, we’ll get it over to her.”

“ASAP.” I end the call. The sooner she is bound to me, body and mind, the better.

I want her in here.

I want her to watch me countersign her employment contract.

I want to see her expression when she realizes how real this is. And that I’m not letting her go.

With the phone still in hand, I add her to my contact list and press Dial. Now that I’ve had a taste of her, patience will never be a virtue.

One ring. A second.

I picture her in that ridiculous outfit that I want to strip off her curvy body. No doubt her hair will be tied back as she’s scrubbing some shower, her beautiful mouth full of curses that should be wrapped around something better.

Finally she answers, and her voice hits me like the first taste of bourbon after a dry spell.

“Hello?”

“Blackwell.”

She exhales long and slow. “How did you get this number?”

I almost smile. Almost.

Then she sighs. “Rafe Sterling? Isn’t that against some kind of law?”

“Wasn’t Rafe. Bastard wouldn’t give it up.” And I’d tried last night when I couldn’t sleep. “Said he was protecting your identity.”

“So how did you get it?”

“I have resources.”

In the background, I hear something that could be a bottle of cleaner spraying something. The sound of a woman trying to keep her world upright while I’m here, ripping the foundation out from under her.

“You have the contract. I expect you at your desk in under an hour.”

Her laugh is sharp and incredulous. “You expect me to just drop everything and waltz into your precious empire? I still have to finish cleaning your penthouse, Mr. Blackwell.”

She’s in my penthouse? Quickly I check my watch. “I can be there in ten minutes.”

“No!” There’s panic in her tone.

“Then get someone to cover for you. I’ll let Rafe know.”

“That’s not?—”

“Less than an hour, Ms. Hollis.”

Her unspoken, “Or else?” hangs in the air like she doesn’t know I’d tear the city apart just to drag her back if she tries to run.