Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
But he would get Logan Flynt, a ghost from his past with a satchel full of blackmail.
11
Logan
Soulless. Not that a building was capable of deep feeling, but everything about this place, from the cold marble and fancy lighting to the wrinkle-free cushion beneath my ass, aspired to impress. And failed.
The modern display of wealth chilled the fucking air, stiff and lifeless like the puppets who wandered the halls. The entire executive floor seemed to be waiting for my next breath so it could suck the moisture, the taste, the goddamned effervescence from my being.
Even Trent Anderson’s pretty assistant, Alicia Murphy, gave me the heebie jeebies. Her painted-on smile and straight brown hair were flawless. She sat behind a hunk of imported wood, she and the desk polished to a glossy shine. The kind of shine that tried too hard to hide the imperfections beneath.
Was the pretentious decor a representation of the real Kaci Baskel? Tedious, predictable lines to match her tightly-wrapped hair and rigid suits?
Well, that was why I was here. To break down Trenchant’s mighty walls and determine what her role was within them. To do that, I was prepared to put up some repulsive pretenses to act in the company’s best interest. Didn’t mean I had to like it.
The easy route would’ve been to take out the entire family—Kaci and Collin included—from a safe distance. But if they were clean? I flexed my hands. Destroying innocent lives would make me as evil as the ones who destroyed my mother’s.
I leaned back in the chair and forced my fingers to relax on my thighs. What I really wanted to do was tug at the necktie and free the button strangling my throat.
Meeting Trent wasn’t what had my nerves buzzing and my hands sweating all morning. It was the possibility of seeing her, breathing her in, and pitching head over feet into memory, drowning in the sweet scent of her cunt on my fingers, the velvet lilt of her voice through the helmet, all the lingering sensations from an encounter that had chased my thoughts for five days.
Every detail about that night had been unexpected. She was a wild card, and that fucking terrified me.
I drew in a steady breath, recalling what my mother said when I broke my arm the first time. When I cried like a sissy and demanded she sell my sportbike. When I threatened to never ride again.
She grabbed my helmet, my arm flopping painfully at my side, and growled through her teeth, “If you don’t wake up every morning scared out of your mind, you aren’t working hard enough, you aren’t fighting, and you aren’t living. You will get back on that bike.”
She’d been right. Arm in a cast, I was on that bike the next day and every day after, welcoming the fear with each new climb of the sun.
The phone on the desk buzzed. Alicia snatched the handset before it completed the first note of the ring tone. “Yes, Mr. Anderson.”
Her eyes sparked, a curious change from the lazy, wanton looks she’d rolled my way for the past ten minutes. “No. There’s one more appointment before lunch. He’s waiting now.” A pause. “Thank you, sir.”
Returning the phone to the cradle, she rose and sliced her gaze to me. “Mr. Anderson will see you now.”
I took my sweet-ass time gathering my messenger bag, rising to my feet, and strolling toward her, all the while hoping and dreading I’d pass Kaci in the hallway.
Alicia watched my movements, her eyes hardening when they landed on my Converse sneakers.
Fuck her. I refused to own a pair of loafers, couldn’t imagine shoving my feet into something so pretentious. The suit was bad enough.
When she raised her eyes, I winked. Her breath caught, her judgment scattering into flushed surprise.
“Right this way, Mr. Smith.” She turned on her strappy heels and sashayed down the hall. The deliberate swing in her hips was all for me. Maybe I would’ve ogled her ass under different circumstances, but she worked for Trent and given what I knew about his employees, I suspected that ass had been spread for him more times than I cared to think about.
The corridor behind Alicia’s desk led deeper into Trent’s wing. Kaci probably reigned over her own wing on the other side of the building. But if she were meeting with Trent, our paths could cross.
At the end of the main hall, I followed Alicia through heavy double doors. No Kaci. I refused to examine why my chest shrunk with disappointment.
The oversized name plaque on the wall was coated in glossy lacquer and reeked of arrogance. Much like the extravagant real estate that made up Trent’s office, the bold cityscape beyond the wall of windows, the leather couches, the wet bar sparkling with crystal tumblers, and the man perched behind the monstrous desk.