Page 97 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Hunter

She raises those heavy eyelids, and her sated eyes hold my gaze. "This can’t work."

"I thought that worked very well, actually."

"We can’t work together. Not when every time we meet, you want to fuck me, and I can’t stop you from fucking me."

She pulls away from me and begins to pace. I ball up the paper towel with which I wiped her and am about to toss it, then bring it up to my nose and sniff.

She turns just in time to catch me do so and her gaze widens. "You’re an animal."

"Only when it comes to you."

"See?" She stabs a finger in my direction. "This is what I mean. We can’t even have a normal conversation without it turning into this sexual gameplay."

"One which I enjoy."

"One which your team is going to notice," she retorts.

"Not if we’re careful."

She plants her palms on her hips. "You really think they won’t notice the chemistry between us?"

"No," I admit. "But that chemistry is precisely why it makes sense for you to be my PR manager. You know what I am, how I think. No one knows me better than you. And you can use that to your advantage."

"You’re not going to budge on this one, are you?"

I shake my head.

She glances away, then back at me. "I can’t do this, Hunter. I’m sorry. I’m putting myself and you at risk. I can’t allow our relationship to become media fodder. It would remove every last bit of leverage I have with the news people."

She smooths her skirt down over her hips, pats her hair into place, then reaches for her bag. She turns and heads toward the door when I call out, "Where do you think you’re going?"

"We can’t work together, Hunter. Even though I owe this to Lord Alan, I’m sorry, but I can’t deliver on it this time. Please give him my apologies."

I reach for my phone and swipe up the screen, then tap a button. The sound of her moans, and the unmistakable impact of flesh on flesh fills the room.

She pauses, then pivots to face me. "What’s that?"

"Why don’t you come and see for yourself?"

She heads toward the desk, then rounds it and stands next to me. On my computer the scene playing out shows a woman stretched out over a desk, with her entire body moving forward. The man’s hand is in view, the rest of him is hidden. Her face, though, is in full view of the camera.

She spins around, arm raised, and I catch her hand before it can connect with my face. "Careful, Fire, there’s a limit to how much leeway I grant you."

"Limit? And what about what you’re doing?"

"That’s self-preservation."

"You’d use it to blackmail me?"

"If it means you’ll be working for me, then yes."

She firms her lips. "You’re more despicable than I thought you were."

"Is that a yes?"

Her gaze narrows. "I’ll never forgive you for this."

"You haven’t answered my question yet."

"Goddamn you, yes. I’ll work for you. Now, will you release me?"

"On one condition."

"You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you, Whittington?"

"Only when it comes to you."

"Stop saying that."

"But it’s true. There’s no limit to what I’d do to make you mine, Zara."

She looks between my eyes, then tips her chin. "There’s no limits I’ll go to avoid becoming yours."

I twist my lips. "We’ll see."

"Okay."

"Okay."

The door swings open. "Oh, sorry Mr. Whittington, I didn’t realize you were with someone."

I release her hand and step back.

"It’s fine, Daniel, come on in. Meet Zara Chopra, my new PR manager. Zara, this is Daniel, my campaign manager."

"That went as expected." Zara pushes back from the conference room table and rolls her shoulders.

After the meeting with Daniel, I called a team meeting and introduced Zara to all of them. She, of course, was impressive, and within minutes of meeting everyone, began to draw up a PR strategy for the campaign.

"I thought that went better than expected."

"You mean at least one-fourth of your team doesn’t resent me for having marched in here and redrawn half the campaign strategy?" She snatches up her notepad and pen, then her phone, and slides them into her bag.

"I mean, you cut through the clutter and came up with a coherent strategy. You did in an hour what my team and I have been trying to pull together for months."

She turns in her chair to face me. "Is that why you never launched your campaign? Because you weren’t happy with the strategy so far?"

"Among other things."

"Why else would you hold back when every day you didn’t declare you were running would make it tougher for you to win?"

"I’m still launching before the deadline."

"If you mean twenty-four hours before the final deadline, then you’re barely squeaking through. As it is, you’ve lost so much time—"

"But I’ll be off to a strong start and that’s more impactful than simply announcing my campaign in order to be seen."

She tilts her head. "Sometimes, I’m forced to agree with you."

"As I recall it, when you were stretched out across my table earlier you were very vocally in agreement with me. In fact, I recall precisely you saying that you didn’t want me to stop, that I should fu—"

"Shut up, Hunter." She glances around the room, then back at me. "How can you be so careless?"

"There’s no one here. There are also no cameras or bugs in here."

"How can you be sure?" She frowns.

"I have the premises swept every morning."

"Except your office where you have cameras placed so you can film anyone who comes in to meet you," she says bitterly.

"I do have cameras in my room. It’s a precaution, and only I have access to the footage."

"So you can blackmail people into doing what you want?"

"If need be."

She tips up her chin. "Are there any other indiscretions you need to tell me about? Anything I need to be prepared for as your PR manager?"

I close the distance to her, then grip the arms of her chair and bend until I’m eye level with her. "I’ve never used the filming to blackmail anyone else before."

"So only I’m subjected to your machinations then?"

"Not letting you go so easily, Fire."

"We’re working together now; it’s best to keep our relationship professional so I can do my job."

I hold her gaze, and she doesn’t glance away. I see the hurt in the depths of her eyes, and damn, I already hate myself for what I did. But if it’s the only way to have her close to me, then I’ll take my chances. But I also know when not to push further.

"I won’t touch you again; you have my word. Unless—"

She swallows "Unless?"

"Unless you ask me to."

"That’ll be the day," she scoffs.

"Don’t underestimate how much you enjoy being with me, in every way."

"You’re underestimating how easy it is to piss off a woman. One wrong move, and they’ll never forgive you. Not unless you grovel and go back to them with your hat in your hands, and sometimes, not even then." Liam leans forward in his chair. "And you’ve crossed the line here with what you did."

Don’t I know it? "I had no other choice. She was going to walk out the door."

"And you should have let her."

"Eh?" I blink. "Did I just hear the man who’s never backed down from a corporate takeover tell me that I should have given up without a fight?"

"In matters of the heart, the boardrooms don’t apply."

I tap my fingers together. "If you mean I don’t know when to back down—"

"What I mean is, the rules of engagement are different when it comes to affairs of the heart."

"We talking about Hunter’s non-existent love life, then?

" Declan prowls in. He collapses into the chair between us and kicks out his legs. He’s wearing jeans torn at the knees, a hat on his head, and a sweatshirt with the hood pulled over the hat.

He pulls off his sunglasses, revealing dark circles and hollowed cheekbones.

"You look like shite, mate," I offer.

"Fuck you very much." He reaches for the bottle of Macallan, lifts it to his mouth, and takes a swig.

"Last I checked, we’re still civilized enough to drink out of a glass," Liam chides.

"You do the whole proper English gentleman thing. Right now, I need sustenance to get me through the rest of this shitty day." He raises the bottle of Macallan and chugs down more of the liquor.

"And I thought I was in the doldrums." I raise my cigar to my lips.

He lowers the bottle, wipes the back of his mouth with his hand, then places the bottle on the table. "Never fear. When it comes to lessons in how to ruin a relationship, you can consider me the fore-runner."

"Surely, it can’t be that bad?" Liam leans back in his seat. Bastard looks all relaxed, with that happiness radiating off him that men who are settled in relationships seem to have. He’s temporarily back from his sojourns in Italy, and clearly, living abroad suits him.

"No, it’s worse." Declan lowers his arms between his legs. "But that’s what happens when you’re trying to juggle not one, but two careers, not to mention, a burgeoning relationship in the media limelight."

"Speaking of, should you even be here? Won’t your adoring fans have surrounded the club by now?"

"Nah, it’s a little better in London, as long as I keep my face hidden. I even took the tube over here."

"Impressive."

He reaches for the bottle again, and Liam moves it out of reach. He pours out a glass and slides it over to Declan who tosses it back. "Enough talk about me, anyway. How’s it going with your spin doctor?"

"She’s now the official PR manager for my campaign." I study the ash building up on the tip of my cigar.

Declan straightens in his seat. "That’s good, right?"

"Not the way he got her to accept the role, it isn’t," Liam interjects.

"Do I want to know?"

"No," Liam and I say simultaneously.

"O-k-a-y, but if it gets you time with her, perhaps it’s worth it?"

"I sure hope so."

"So what are you doing here?"

I narrow my gaze on him. "What do you mean?"

"If you want her, you need to go after her. Why are you wasting your time here with us?"

"Our relationship is now professional." I take a puff on the cigar and blow out a cloud of smoke. "So, I can’t exactly pop into her place without reason, the optics on that wouldn’t be great."

"But a work meeting wouldn’t attract the same scrutiny, would it?"

"Hmm." I place the cigar in the notch in the ashtray, then lean over and grab him by the scruff of his neck. Which, mind you, was easier when he was a skinny junior who always got ragged by the rest of the boys for being the scrawniest of the bunch. Now, he’s six-foot-three, with shoulders like a quarterback, yet I can’t get over the habit of treating him like a cheeky younger sibling.

"Hey, watch it, man." He grabs my neck back in return.

Yep, he’s definitely grown up. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop behaving like a protective older sibling. "Sometimes you do have words of wisdom to offer."

Liam snaps his fingers. "The V&A Ball. That’s the one you need to attend, and invite her to it, as well."

I glance between them. "I’ll go on one condition."