Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Amani…” drifted after him. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand, but I’m sorry.”
Amani couldn’t even bring himself to look back at him.
He just walked out, and let the door slam closed in his wake.
CHAPTER TWO
VIC WAS HARDLY AWARE HE’D been ignoring the flashing red light, warning him of his secretary’s incoming call, until the door to his office opened and Ash Harrington came sailing in, tossing reassurances over his shoulder as if that would quiet the wrath of blue-washed, stern, and very proper Mrs. Gail Ackerbee.
Mrs. Ackerbee was an old-school secretary of the iron battleaxe type, who walked with her chest thrust forward like a buttress—and if there was one thing she had no patience for, it was the antics of the young man who now and then came swanning into Victor’s office unannounced, as if protocol didn’t matter one bit.
And even as Ash tried to close the door in her face, Mrs. Ackerbee inserted herself in the way, preventing it from shutting with her rather solid frame. With a sniff and a flatly disapproving look for Ash, she declared, “Mr. Harrington is here to see you, Mr. Newcomb.”
Vic offered a faint smile, pulling himself from the rather pensive rut he’d been stuck in all afternoon, staring uselessly at his desktop screen and getting nothing done. “Thank you, Mrs. Ackerbee.”
The woman only hmphed, her mouth twisting up, and yanked the door shut with a highly offended slam, leaving them alone in the close cloisters of Vic’s wood-paneled office.
“I think,” Ash said merrily, “one day that woman’s going to kill me.”
“Probably. I’ll bring lilies to your funeral. Lovely flowers, really.” Vic leaned his elbow on one arm of his executive chair and propped his temple against his knuckles. “What brings you into my lair?”
“Oh, the usual. Skipping work just to piss Brand off.” Ash dragged one of the accent chairs over, flipped it around, and dropped down to straddle it, folding his arms on the back and eyeing Vic across the broad, glossy plane of his massive walnut desk. “And wondering why you didn’t even bother going to the appointment.”
“I went!”
“But they just refunded my credit card.”
Vic winced. “I went. It just…didn’t go very well, and they kicked me out.”
Ash’s eyes widened. “…I’ve done everything short of earning a lawsuit in there. I’ve been drunk, I’ve thrown up on things, I’ve flirted with Amani, and they’ve never kicked me out. What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Vic groaned and thudded his head back against the high leather seat back. “Everything. I don’t know. I was an absolute wreck the moment I walked in there. It’s like the second I saw him, I turned all arses and elbows.”
Blinking, Ash peered at him. “…wait. Him? Amani? You got all flustered over Amani?”
“Not like that.”
At least…Vic didn’t think it was like that.
So why, when a beautiful young man—slender, delicate, yet with piercing amber eyes that seemed to know everything, bright against his tawny skin—had looked right through him as if he could see Vic’s every inadequacy…had he turned into such a complete and utter mess? Clumsy, fumbling, talking out his arse, springing a random one when Amani had barely touched him…
And the whole time Amani had watched him like a cat, just trying to decide when he’d open those full, soft, darkly lush lips and devour him with sharp and needling teeth.
There was no doubt Amani was striking; he’d worn a pale ivory caftan edged in gold embroidery and long, loose matching linen trousers, both just translucent enough to let a hint of dark skin shine through in subtle whispers that seemed to tease and flirt. When Amani had first emerged from the back room, Vic had caught a glimpse of long, glossy black hair tumbling straight down to his hips, before Amani had clipped it up in a twist, leaving several tendrils free to fall into those large, angled, long-lashed eyes and tease against the slim column of his throat. He was feminine without a doubt, but not female.
So why the hell was Vic still drifting back to the way Amani had smiled with such sly allure and cunning sweetness as he’d leaned in close and said It’s like batting a toy mouse between my paws…?
God damn it.
“Hello.” Ash snapped his fingers. “Earth to Victor. You want to come back down to this planet some time?”
“Huh?” Vic shook himself, frowning, then pressed his fingers against his eyelids. “Sorry. This has been bugging me all damned day.”
“So tell me what happened.”
“I’m not even sure.” Vic buried one hand into his hair, curling up a handful of the strands and making a mess just because he could. Sometimes it was his only solace—mussing his hair, letting his clothing be wrinkled, tossing out little bits of improper diction that would make his father, mother, and voice coach have an aneurysm if they heard him, but they were small little bits of defiance and they were his. Sighing, he continued, “I showed up, I was an awkward nit, Amani was nice, I got a bloody fucking erection before he’d barely even gotten started—shut it, Harrington.” He glowered at Ash, who was snickering behind his hand. “Bloody immature tit. He said it was natural. That it happens to everyone.”