Chapter 14

The minute the voice spoke, Red shivered. Her domineering boss stepped into the already-full meeting area, and her jaw slacked. It fell to the floor, and she swore she saw some mischief in his eyes as he looked at her and repeated, "Who is engaged?"

Standing at the door was the man who'd done unholy things to her body six years ago, looking no less god-like than he had that night, with one exception—now he looked a whole lot scarier as he raised his brow at her. Charlie wore pale grey slacks that seemed like they'd been sewn directly onto his body, a white tailored shirt, and a formidable scowl. He looked ready to behead Red and feed her limbs to the crowd of people who'd gathered around him. Beside him was a dark-haired man an inch shorter than he was.

Justin had small, black, vacant eyes—the opposite of Charlie's deep indigo. But they had the same disapproving frown that made her feel like the dirt under their Bolvaint shoes. And probably the same amount of authority to fire yours truly.

Gary and Eva looked at each other and stood, saying, "Um—Good morning, Mr. Cole."

He frowned and looked at Red. "Who got engaged?"

Nobody, sir, um—"

"She's engaged, sir, Eva replied with urgency, which made Red frown at her friend. She could practically hear, 'Holy crap!' in her head.

Charlie raised his brow, waiting for Red to say something. "Well, it's nothing, sir." Her face flushed with embarrassment at her choice of words.

"It's none of my business, as long as you are doing your job. The hell I care," he said with annoyance before adding, "Let's cut to the Charlie. Technically, this is an issue for accounting, but we've decided to throw everyone into the mix since you guys are a money pit deeper than a gold mine." Charlie began, the icicles he called irises still focused on his phone screen.

Red's eyes rolled inside their sockets as her knees threatened to buckle.

He had a British accent. Not American. Smooth. Familiar. Ordinary but she swore it was better in bed. Six yea—

Shit. Get a grip, Red. You need to stop thinking about what happened back then. She thought to herself.

However, Charlie fired out sentences at the speed of light. She heard him, but she couldn't listen. Shock gripped her body as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The issues with Justin and something he'd lost involved money, or else the accounting department wouldn't be here.

Well. Not surprising. Money could do that to people.

"Red, stop daydreaming and get me a fucking coffee."

That was all she could hear after almost everyone in the room turned their heads, not wanting to see Charlie's fiery gaze.

And now you had to deal with that horrible attitude of his—hopefully for a very long time, because you desperately needed this job. She chastised herself again.

Five minutes later.

"What took you so long?" said the man behind the desk, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He was a busy executive, and Red, his capable assistant, always seemed to have everything under control, but knowing that she was engaged to be married made Charlie want to kill someone.

Red bit her lip. "I did what you asked, sir," she said dryly, setting the mug of coffee on the desk before handing over the manila envelopes and the iPad. "The documents you requested are in the envelopes, and I've prepared the necessary reports on the iPad for the meeting."

"Get me a pen now!" he replied, flipping through the envelopes to confirm their contents. "Disappoint me again, and you're fired."

She nodded her head and bit her lips as she sat in the corner chair next to Gary.

Charlie began his meeting as she zoned out. Someone snapped their fingers, and her gaze shot from Charlie's face to Gary's. His forehead had crumpled into a frown. "You look like you're trying hard not to cry or having a really intense orgasm. I'm hoping that it's the latter and some kind of weird-slash-awesome condition. Are you okay?"

Red nodded, scraping up a smile. "Sorry. Zero orgasms happening under this boring skirt. I just zoned out for a second." Lies. She either wanted to cry from embarrassment or she was about to orgasm just thinking about how good Charlie had felt parting her thighs with his big, callused hands and dipping his tongue into her slit.

Then words stopped streaming down on everyone's heads like a scalding shower, and she realised that indeed there was something worse than hearing Charlie speak in his perfect American English. And that was not hearing him speak at all. Because now the icicles were pointed at her like a cocked gun.

She glanced up to meet his gaze. He stared at her for exactly one second before his focus snapped to Gary. "Am I understood, Gary?" he asked.

Gary?

"Crystal clear, sir. Gary bowed, his voice trembling at the edges.

Charlie jerked his chin towards her. "Either you leave this office or listen!"

God. Damn. Bastard.

He knew she wasn't paying attention. His eyes had kindled, melting the ice and growing darker the minute their gazes mingled. He was furious, and maybe it killed him that she was here in the same way it buried her.

Why on earth was he mad at her anyway?

Did he recognise her?

Did he—

Crap!

No! impossible; if he did, he would have asked her. It's been two weeks.

Right?

"Red's new; it's her, um, first monthly meeting, sir," Gary highlighted, almost pleadingly. He shifted in her direction, as if he might need to physically protect her from the sharp-tongued, suited monster.

Red suppressed a grin when she realised that she had made him furious over nothing. Well, he certainly wasn't a saint. An asshole through and through. A billionaire, a powerful force, and, judging by their one and only encounter—a raging playboy

This man was inside you, she internally shrieked. And not just once. His shaft was buried so deep in you that you screamed. You can still taste the salty, earthy flavour of his cum. You know he has a freckle on his lower back. You know what sound he makes when he empties inside a woman.

Damn it!

She internally thanked her mind for ruining her panties in public and nodded. Everyone was looking at them, and there were at least fifty people in the room. Charlie ignored her. Instead, he turned his face towards the man beside him. "Justin, any other words of wisdom?"

Justin smiled at Red before saying, "I think you've already touched everything," said the man who winked at her apologetically. Justin stared at her teasingly, like he could read the secret his friend and she shared on her face.

Charlie spun towards her, uncuffing his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up his veiny forearms. "Accounting can go back to their unfortunate line of work. Gary, Allen, and Eva are excused from this meeting—though not forgiven for their horrid blog." He snapped his fingers impatiently. "Ms. Patterson?"

He was already waltzing down the narrow hallway, knowing Red would Charlie him like a puppy and no doubt taking pleasure in that fact.

"I have a bone to pick with you."

What?

Bone, boner—same difference, right?

Red shot Gary a please-save-my-butt look. His eyes said, I would, but I still have a life to live.

She followed Charlie down the hall, her shoes slapping the floor in a hurry. He sliced through the throng of accountants, then stopped at a corner office, opened the door, barked "Out!" to the man inside, and tilted his head for me to go in. She did. He closed the door, and it was just the two of them.

Oh God, he is going to kill me. She thought to herself.

Two feet of empty space between them.

His eyes said war.

Which didn't bode well for Red since he had bombs and she barely had sticks.

"Did I do something?" She asked through a small, fake-painted smile.

"Did something? How could you zone out when your boss was talking in front of all those bastards?" He answered in the same light tone, but the smirk on his face was different. Sinful. Unforgiving.

That's it? I didn't listen for a minute, and he is giving me this lecture like I defused a bomb over Paris?

She felt my expression fall. She was so disoriented by seeing him here between silly spaces—two feet—that she could almost smell her expensive cologne.

"I was listening, sir." She swallowed hard.

"Well, you faked it. I can see your brain dreaming over your fiance, and trust me, I want your attention only to me during work hours."

I'm sorry, what?

What the hell was that supposed to mean? "What—um, I was listening, sir."

She just remembered the bet they'd had at his room six years ago when she challenged her over Truth and Dare. If he didn't make her come, she was allowed to take all his cash. Truthfully, she'd never come so hard in her life, but she wasn't going to admit that. Not after he'd made her feel like a fool earlier.

"Miss Patterson." He tsked with pity, like she was adorable and exasperating at the same time—a puppy pissing on his two-grand loafers. "It'll be a long time before you stop thinking about my cock every time you masturbate at the end of a long workday under your cheap covers."

That the fuck! The mouth on this guy!

I was going to kill him.

I knew it right there and then.

Maybe not today and perhaps not tomorrow either, but it was going to happen.

Her eyes widened as she blew out air and folded her arms over her chest. "What the hell is wrong with you?" It hurt to even look at him, but she had to do it for her job's sake, not to mention her bill status.

"So you thought I wouldn't recognise you from six years ago, Daisy?"

Blank!

Her brain froze!

Charlie stared through her, like she'd said nothing. "I expect you to keep your lips sealed about our little..." He ran his eyes over her body, but not like he wanted her. It was more like he wanted to get rid of her.

"Done and dusted, sir. My lips are sealed." She raised her brow as she batted her eyelashes. "Cat got your tongue, sir?"

He leaned his shoulder against the door, making shoulders and doors everywhere pale in comparison to how sexy he looked. "Your pussy got my tongue—several times, actually—but also my shaft, fingers, and frankly everything else in that suit I could fit into you. I'll spare you the sordid details because A, you were there, and B, we're going to keep it strictly professional from here on out. Understood, Miss Patterson?"

What the f*ck!

Such a horrid mouth.

"My apology for what happened six years ago, sir. Don't worry, I already have forgotten what happened. I can't even remember. But are you not going to apologise as well?" She parked her fists on her waist.

"What for?" He sounded genuinely interested.

How old was he? Nine-five?