As if the loft is the only way I’d drop into his office uninvited.
I also know where he keeps the key. I’m not sure if we have time to grab it, but we can try.
“This way.” Grabbing Genevieve’s hand, I pull her toward the closet by the liquor cabinet where Hudson’s got the key stashed. Then, when I realize we absolutely don’t have time to grab the key, cross the room, call the elevator, and get out of the office before my brother walks in, I pull Genevieve in with me and shut the door.
And that’s how I end up hiding from my brother in his office closet with the one girl on earth who doesn’t want to repeat fuck me.
God, my life sucks.
Did I mention the closet was small?
Really small. Tight. Cozy. So cramped we practically have to press up against each other to fit inside.
Huh.
Maybe things aren’t going quite so bad after all.
4
The closet, it turns out, provides exactly enough room for two bodies. We could stand shoulder to shoulder and that would take the entire width. The depth is almost half that. It’s only meant to hold a few coats or jackets, nothing more. Thankfully, it’s late August, so there’s not much in here besides us, a couple of Hudson’s spare suits, and a hook with the key to the elevator.
I eye the silver dangling on the wall above Genevieve’s head and consider whether we have time to try to make it to the loft after all. Her father and Hudson still haven’t entered the office—we’d have heard them.
“Are you sure they’ll come in here?” she asks, and I can tell she must be listening for them as closely as I am.
“Not positive. But if they’re having a meeting, it seems likely.” Which means we should stay put. I pocket the access key anyway. In case we get an opportunity.
She backs up against the wall and sighs. “Why are they using your office?”
I’m a fairly smart guy. I know my cover’s blown. The full disclosure tactic worked out all right before, so I just go ahead and admit, “Because this isn’t my office. It’s Hudson’s.”
“Why did you say it was yours then?” She’s huffy, which I suppose is fair. It’s also sort of hot.
I lean on the opposite wall, hands stuffed in my pockets. “I didn’t exactly say that it was, if you remember.”
“But you knew I thought it was.”
I shrug. I mean, she’s right, but it’s not like rehashing it is going to get us out of the situation we’re in.
“Well, that was a nice one, wasn’t it? Letting me believe something that wasn’t true.” She starts to cross her arms over her chest and close herself off but drops them when, I assume, she realizes the space is much too tight to allow that.
Isn’t that a shame?
I bend over her, placing my palm on the wall next to her face. “Hey, I didn’t know Hudson would be here. And I didn’t know he’d be with your father, and I most definitely didn’t guess that you’d be hiding from him.”
“I wouldn’t be hiding from him if—”
The office doors creak outside.
I clamp my hand over Genevieve’s mouth, silencing her, and we both perk up, listening to the rustle of the men’s movements, praying there’s no reason for Hudson to peek inside our hiding space.
“It’s not what you intend to do with Werner Media that I’m concerned with,” he says, and it sounds like he’s passing us by, walking toward his desk, I guess. “It’s how that will affect Pierce Industries.”
“I can assure you, Accelecom has no interest in taking any predatory action against your company. I’ve conceded to every one of your conditions, Hudson. Our position should be quite obvious.” The voice that responds is British, but I can tell the crisp and formal manner with which the man speaks has as much to do with his personality as the location of his upbringing.
And this is what Genevieve has to deal with as a parent? Damn. It’s got to be like being raised by a Hudson. Poor girl.
This snippet of their conversation also confirms what she had said earlier, and I’m intrigued by what else they have to say.
But I’m more intrigued right now by her. She smells good, like some spring flower, the purple ones—lilacs, I think. Sunlight slips through the slats of the door, hitting her face, and her gaze is locked on mine. With her delicate features and bewildered expression, she reminds me of a doe, caught under a hunter’s riflescope.
My doe. My prey.
You look at me all bright-eyed and trusting like that, and all I can think about is how far I could get my cock down your throat before you couldn’t breathe.
Her eyes widen, and I realize I didn’t just think those dirty, dirty thoughts. I actually said them. Out loud.
Oh, shit.
She made it clear that she’s not interested. So is that considered…? Did I just, like, sexually assault Genevieve Fasbender in my brother’s closet? With her father right outside?
There are a thousand ways that this could not be cool. At all.
And yet I haven’t let go of her. My hand still covers her mouth. I’m still pressed up close to her. So close that I don’t miss that she’s not bothered by what I said in the least. Her breath quickens and she peers up at me, her stare intense, wanting, and I swear, I can smell arousal mingling with the scent of her perfume.
“What more can we do to prove good faith?” Edward asks, and I know my brother well enough to guess that he’s going to spell it all out for him.
Which means we have some time.
So…should I?