Page 47 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

Private Eyes

Anthony

I wake to the familiar weight of Guinness pressed against my side; his warm body curled up next to mine. The early morning light creeps through the window of my first-floor apartment.

My bedroom is small but comfortable, the dark wooden bed frame and all white bedding giving it a grounded, cozy feel. A bookshelf in the corner is stacked with novels and work folders, and my framed photo of me and Jen sits on the nightstand.

I got this place in the suburbs, about twenty minutes from the office, for me and Little G after my lease was up at Chance’s. It was a fresh start that coincided with my promotion.

Little G stirs as I shift, his big brown eyes blinking up at me, and I ruffle the fur on his head before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My feet hit the cool hardwood floor as I stretch, then pull on a pair of boxer briefs, sweats, and a hoodie for our morning walk.

Outside, the January air is crisp, the neighborhood waking up around us. Little G trots beside me, sniffing at everything, his tail wagging with contentment. The sidewalks are quiet, lined with desert landscaping and the occasional jogger passes by.

I let my mind drift as we walk, my stomach knotting at the thought of lunch with Jason Ciccone today. Meg practically insisted I go, and now I’m dreading being alone with our newest, and most flirtatious, client. It’s not that I don’t know how to handle him—I just don’t want to deal with it.

Back at the apartment, I head straight for the master suite bathroom, and start the shower. The modern gray tiling and glass shower give it a sleek look, a definite upgrade from the last place.

Our place.

I shed my clothes and step into the hot shower, letting the water pound against my skin, washing away the last remnants of sleep.

After my body’s clean and dry, I tug on black slacks, a baby blue dress shirt, and black dress shoes.

I catch my reflection in the mirror above the dark wood vanity and give myself a nod of approval.

I can afford dress clothes that fit me properly now.

My wardrobe when I first started the internship left much to be desired.

I glance over at the bundle of fur dozing in the bedroom doorway. “Okay, Little G… like Dolly said, I’m going to go pour myself a cup of ambition.”

In the kitchen, I start the coffee maker, the scent of freshly ground beans filling the air. Little G sits by his bowl and gives me his best Sarah McLachlan commercial eyes. I laugh while opening the narrow pantry door and fill his bowl.

I lean against the island and pull out my phone while I wait for the coffee to brew. My fingers hover over the search bar before I type in Chance Sullivan Boston , then Mary Sullivan Boston . As usual, nothing useful comes up. I lock my phone and shove it into my pocket, exhaling slowly.

The coffee maker beeps, and I pour the steaming liquid into a travel thermos. “You ready to go to doggy day care?” I ask Little G, and his tail wags furiously in response.

I walk him to the car and get him settled. After hopping in the driver’s seat and start pulling out of the parking lot, my eyes catch on a black SUV parked not far from my apartment. A mountain of a muscular man sits behind the wheel; his gaze trained somewhere in the distance.

A flicker of recognition pulls at me. I’m almost certain I’ve seen that guy—and that same SUV—before. Maybe at the gym? God, my brain is a paranoid mess. It’s not like black SUVs aren’t common. I shake it off and get my eyes on the road to drop Little G off and get to the office.

I get to the office building, heading straight to the elevator.

As I step inside, I find myself thinking, again, about lunch with Jason today.

He makes me nervous—not just because he’s so flirty, but because I can’t deny I’m attracted to him.

His personality, olive-toned skin, bright smile, and athletic body are a dangerous combination.

It’s not that I don’t welcome the attention, but he’s the first guy who’s really caught my eye since Chance, and that throws me off more than I’d like to admit.

The elevator dings, and I step out, making my way to my desk. After unpacking my laptop and logging in, a notification pops up on the company messaging app.

Meg: Swing by my office when you get in.

I take a deep breath, then head to her office, tapping lightly on the door.

Meg looks up from her desk, smiling. “Have a seat, Anthony.”

She’s effortlessly put together, as always. A stylish silk blouse in deep emerald complements her complexion, and her dark hair is swept up into an elegant yet practical updo. She gestures to the chair across from her, and I sit.

“I want to talk to you about your lunch with Jason today.”

I swallow and nod.

Meg leans forward slightly. “I’m sure you realize it’s unusual for an assistant to have a one-on-one meal with a client.”

I nod again, nerves prickling. “I—I don’t need to go.”

Meg shakes her head. “No, sorry, that’s not what I’m saying. I encouraged you to take the meeting because I think it will be good experience for you.”

I exhale, somewhat relieved, then Meg adds, “And let’s not mince words here—the man is gorgeous, which means we have sponsors clamoring to associate his face with their brand. Those campaigns and contracts are one of your top talents. This will be great practice for you.”

I nod, a little more confidently this time. “Thank you. I’m excited to gain more experience.”

Meg smiles, but then she gives me a knowing look. “That being said, I’m not blind. Jason has eyes for you, and his motivations for inviting you to lunch are likely less than professional.”

I sit up straighter. “I caught on to that too, and full disclosure, if it were a different circumstance, I might welcome his advances. But my career is more important. I won’t do anything to risk my standing here.”

Meg chuckles. “I kind of figured. You don’t usually get flustered in meetings. He had you tongue-tied and red as a tomato.”

I laugh. “Yep. It’s been a while since I’ve been that affected.”

Since him.

Meg nods, her tone softening. “Listen, I have a reputation here as a shark, but I’m not heartless.

Just remain open and honest with me. If the two of you can’t resist each other, we’ll cross that road together.

I can insulate you from anything having to do with him as a client to avoid conflict. Just don’t blindside me.”

I smile, nodding. “That’s not my focus, and it’s highly unlikely, but I appreciate this conversation. Just reminds me how lucky I am to be working for you instead of any other senior agent here.”

Meg waves a hand dismissively. “No luck involved. You earned your spot.”

“Thanks, Meg,” I say, then pause. “Speaking of being blindsided… is Jason out? Are we making assumptions here? Or is this something we need to keep a lid on and prepare for the best- and worst-case scenarios?”

Meg glances at a notification on her phone, then looks back to me with a smile.

“That thinking right there is why you’re next in line to be an agent.

No, we haven’t assumed anything. He’s been upfront with me.

Professionally, he’s still closeted. Personally, he’s not worried if it ever gets out.

So yes, we prepare—but we won’t be dealing with a panicked client if it happens. ”

I nod and enter a few notes into my phone. “Consider the preparation handled.”

“Knew it would be.” She smirks and stands from her desk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting to charm my way through. Good luck at lunch. Let me know how it goes.”

“Thank you, I will.” I stand and head back to my desk, my mind still spinning as I prepare for the rest of the day.

I pull into the parking lot of Purple, a popular spot for business lunches just north of downtown Phoenix. As I circle the lot looking for a spot, a black SUV glides past me. My pulse picks up as I catch a glimpse of the same muscled man from this morning behind the wheel.

I grit my teeth and shake my head. I’m looking too much into this. It’s just a coincidence. My brain curses me for being this paranoid, but I can’t help it. Even though I’ve never seen the priest again since that Halloween night, I have noticed the same men and cars showing up wherever I go.

Right after Chance disappeared, there was the heavily tattooed, beautiful guy about my age, always parked in his white sedan outside the apartment complex.

Then there was the Secret Service looking bro—all suit, sunglasses, and an earpiece.

I saw him at the grocery store, at the gym, even in my rearview mirror on my first day at work.

Now there’s this Reacher looking dude: thick hair—kept short—military look, built like a damn tank. His head nearly hits the top of the SUV interior, so I’m guessing he’s over 6’4” with at least 250 pounds of pure muscle.

The thing is, I’ve never really felt threatened when I’ve seen any of them.

Almost the opposite.

Almost the way I felt with him.

Almost.

I exhale and park my car, forcing myself to push the thoughts aside. Stepping out, I head inside, where a young hostess greets me with a professional smile.

“I’m meeting Jason Ciccone,” I tell her as I check emails on my phone.

She nods. “Ah yes. Mr. Ciccone is already seated. Right this way, Mr. Pacini.”

I follow her through the sleek, modern dining room.

As we approach, Jason rises to greet me, and I nearly lose my footing for a second.

He’s wearing skintight black pants and a crisp white dress shirt, the bright fabric popping against his dark olive skin.

His sleeves are rolled up, accentuating his strong forearms, the kind of forearms only a pitcher could have.

The hostess hands me a menu. “Your server will be right over.”

“Thanks for meeting me,” Jason says as I slide into my seat. He flashes that bright white smile. “And for the restaurant recommendation—everything on the menu looks incredible. I looked it up during my flight.”

I smirk. “You should go for the roasted chicken with cauliflower mash for your first time. It’s what they’re known for. And I know you’re all about clean eating, so it’s basically mandatory.”

Jason’s eyes twinkle as his smile shifts from polite to playful. “I like first times.”

Yep. He’s going to be a lot.

“How’d you know I’m into clean eating?” he asks, quirking a brow.

I raise mine right back. “You post about it constantly.”

His grin widens. “So, you’ve been stalking my socials, huh?”

I fix him with a flat look. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s literally my job.”

He laughs, low and devilish, then winks. “Sure it is.”

I sigh dramatically, snap open my linen napkin, and toss it onto my lap. “Your posts are boring anyway.”

Jason cocks his head. “Even the shirtless ones?”

I feel heat creeping up the collar of my shirt, and I shout, “Oh look, it’s time to order,” as the server appears. We both opt to stick with water. Jason orders the roasted chicken as recommended, and I go with the Cobb salad.

As soon as the waiter collects our menus and leaves, I unlock my phone and pull up Jason’s file on my work app.

“Ok, I put together some notes on the sponsor contracts you need to decide on. I think the natural energy drink, the fitness apparel line, and the home chef service for clean eating hold the most potential. They fit perfectly into your personal brand.”

Jason beams at me. “I can get behind that. Those deals caught my attention the most. Well, other things caught my eye first, but as far as sponsors go, I’m on board with pursuing those.”

I fight a blush but remain on task. “Okay, let’s go over the details for the natural energy drink first.”

Jason laughs. “Are you always all business? I just wanted to get to know the man who’ll be working behind the scenes on my account.”

I frown. “Meg is your agent, Jason.”

He grins. “I know. And I’ve had several lunches with Meg. She’s the best. But let’s be real—I know you’ll be doing a lot of the heavy lifting.”

I nod. “I hope to be able to do as much of that as possible. Which is why we should go over these deals.”

Jason chuckles, then leans forward with his elbows on the table and lowers his voice. “Okay, you win. For today. But I’m going to continue insisting on lunch meetings until you warm to me. Then I’ll insist on dinner meetings… until they turn into breakfast the next morning.”

I sit there, blinking at him as heat crawls up my neck. Before I can fumble through a response, the waiter returns, setting down a basket of warm bread with honey butter, saving me from having to say anything.

I take the opportunity to dive into the sponsorship details, managing to keep Jason on task for the rest of the meal.

By the time we shake hands in the parking lot, I promise to get the contract revisions and campaign concepts to Meg for review as soon as possible so we can move into final negotiations.

As I coast out of the parking lot, my gaze flicks toward the black SUV sitting in the lot.

Reacher guy is still inside, reading a book.

I slow down, then wave.

The man lowers his book, meets my eyes… and starts the engine. The SUV inches forward.

I huff a nervous laugh and press on the gas.