I usually look forward to Mondays. Hearing how many properties we’ve had offers in on over the weekend, negotiating back and forth between the seller and buyer. Yet today as I sit at the head of the conference table, there’s only one property on my mind. Or rather, the person who owns it.
“What about the house in Belgravia?” Andrea’s question pauses the constant tapping on my mobile on the table, as well as my sprinting thoughts.
“What about it?” I scan my staff, finding all eyes on me as they rise from the table, the meeting obviously over.
“Well,” Andrea’s head tilts in question. “Will they be listing with us? Did you get a sense?”
“I don’t think so.” I stand and walk away with no further explanation, which is very unlike me. But then again, I’ve been very unlike me all weekend. I reached the conclusion last night that it’s best for everyone if Raya hires another agent, and after the way we parted on Saturday—the atmosphere awkward, me awkward—I’m certain she will. Georgia did a damn fine job of reminding me of who I am. Or most of who I am, anyway. The other part will be confirmed when I make it to Hux later this week. There’s no room in my life for anything else.
I fetch a coffee from the kitchen and focus on the particulars of a new listing as I walk back through the office.
“Drew?” Andrea calls.
“What?” I lower the papers and take a sip of my coffee.
“Someone here to see you.” She points toward the glass frontage of our offices, where I find Raya standing, her body draped in a long, black, spaghetti-strapped dress.
The coffee cup freezes at my lips as she smiles, raising her hand in a nervous hello. Only the thought of Andrea watching goads me into movement.
I clear my clogged throat and bully myself to life. “Miss Rivers.”
She steps forward. “I was passing,” she explains, seeming as equally nervous. “So thought I’d pop in and sign the contracts.”
I’m taken aback, but I fight not to show it. I walked out of her house on Saturday rather abruptly, and I know she detected my wariness. What gives? “My office.” I point the way, keen to get us away from our audience before someone picks up on the tension.
Raya’s walk is slow, uncertain, and her eyes nailed to me as she passes. I’m forced to hold my breath to avoid her scent. It’s fruitless. Everything Raya Rivers is ingrained in me—her smell, the lingering feel of her touch, the unforgettable images of her imprinted on my brain.
Jesse is right. I’m doomed.
I move toward Andrea’s desk and give her a quick rundown of what details to include in Raya’s contract as she makes notes. “Two percent?” she questions when I tell her what rate I agreed to with Raya. “Our fee is three. Non-negotiable.”
I ignore her and follow Raya to my office, opening the door for her. “Thank you.” She wanders in, gazing around.
“Take a seat.” I round my desk and lower to my chair, going to my computer and swirling the mouse around the screen to wake it up. That swirl is exactly how my stomach is feeling.
“About Saturday,” Raya says, lowering to the chair on the other side of my desk.
My computer dings with an e-mail from Andrea, and I silently praise her for her promptness. I send the attachment straight to the printer. “I just need your signature on a few things.” I’m up out of my chair quickly, collecting the contracts from the printer on the side cabinet. “Here.” I lay the first down with a pen. “And here.”
Raya stares down at the documents, the documents I haven’t even bothered proofreading. I need her out of my office before I do something stupid. Like toss her on my desk. Ravage her. Or fire all the questions still circling my head at her.
Her hand is shaking as she scrawls her name.
“Perfect.” I gather them up and staple the edges of each, handing her one. “We’ll need the name of your solicitor.”
She looks at me, and I quickly glance away, damning myself for noting that sadness in her eyes and damning myself more for once again wondering what the cause is.
“Drew…” she breathes, slight exasperation in her voice.
“I think that’s everything for now.” I stuff my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her, and stand back. “One of my staff will be in touch.”
“Right.” She slowly lifts from the chair, a weightiness to her body that even I can feel. And the loudest silence falls, a million words passing between us, none prepared to be spoken.
I move back again, giving her a clear path to the door. “Thanks for dropping by.”
A faint wave of emotion floats across her face, something she barely contains. Anger. “So that’s it?” she asks.
“Well, I’ve fucked you. That’s what you wanted, right?” My words sound so cold, just as I intended them to be. But I’m not proud.
“You didn’t fuck me at my house, Drew.”
Refuting that would be daft. There was a beautiful and serene connection between us. It would be a major insult if I denied that. But I know I should. Yet I don’t. Instead, I ask a stupid question. “Why are you hiring me?”
“Because I trust you.”
Her answer gives me a moment’s pause, and I read between the lines. “You trust me? To help you forget whatever the fuck you’re trying to forget? Yeah, I can’t help you with that anymore.”
My words sting her, her neck recoiling. “You felt something, too.”
“I think the scene, the circumstances…” I wave a dismissive hand in the air. “It got the better of me. Clearly it did you, too.”
Her huff of breath and her sarcastic smile speak volumes. “You’re right.”
I am? Shit, I don’t want to be right. Fuck, what is this weird ache happening in my chest?
She inhales, taking all of the air in the room with it. I can’t breathe as I face her.
She pulls out something from her bag and tosses it on my desk, the clatter of metal on the glass top making me flinch. “You’ll need those to show people around.” She walks out of my office, her stride fast, and the door slams behind her, startling me again.
As I stare at the keys on my desk, I vow I’m never stepping foot in that box of temptation ever again. My mind isn’t my own in there. Or anywhere around Raya, in fact.
Chapter 7
I’ve spent the past two days trying to purge Raya from my thoughts. It’s not working. I’ve seen her constantly, imagined her. Not restrained, but free to touch me, to feel me, to explore me like I never allow. And not just my body. She’s in my head, demanding to be heard. It’s getting hard to ignore her, and not even devoted father-daughter time is helping me.
As soon as I’ve dropped Georgia at Coral’s after school, I head straight for Hux.
I need a drink. A stiff one. And I need to come, to make a woman scream to drown out the shit swirling in my brain.
I nearly make it to the lounge when the sounds of a woman’s pleasure stop me at the entrance of the bar. Those sounds aren’t unusual around here. But this one pierces my skin, injecting me with a flurry of emotions, many of which I don’t recognize.