Page 72 of Kisses and Paperclips

His hand grazed a stray file on my desk, and his eyes met mine again, that slow-burn smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The one that felt like a match lit directly against my skin.

“Just checking on you.”

I arched a brow. “Nobody checks on me.”

“Sounds like someone who needs better friends.”

“Or,” I countered, smirking, “like someone who’s got her shit together. People don’t worry about the ones who keep moving.”

He leaned back, eyes darkening. “They should. The ones who seem unbreakable?” A pause, his voice roughening. “Usually are.”

My pulse stuttered. I folded my arms. “So… is this you applying to be my friend?”

His grin turned wolfish. “Why would I friend-zone myself?” He closed the distance between us, his whispered skating down my spine:

“I’m busy trying to get you back in my bed.”

“Won’t happen,” I said matter-of-factly. “Is this why you came in here? To disturb my peace?”

He dragged his fingers along his jawline. “I’m here to meet with my mother, but I figured I’d check on you first.” He winked, clearly pleased with himself.

I shook my head and turned back to my computer. Evelyn’s gala planning bled into my accounting work again. Despite having already asked her to give her staff more responsibilities, I had to decide on the final outfits. The numbers alone drowned me.

Julien’s stare burned into my profile.

“Yes?” I snapped without looking.

“Did my research. You manage all our accounting, yet here you are…” His eyes flicked to my screen, and I angled it away. “Lingerie specs? My mother could hire a third-party firm for the numbers.”

My fingers kept typing. “A good CEO learns what to delegate with company growth like this.” He said casually. “You’ll need someone to catch things when—”

“I’ve managed finances since inception.”

“Maybe that’s why she didn’t promote you to CEO.”

My head jerked up.

His smile was all challenge. “Leadership means knowing when to relinquish control.”

“I didn’t ask for your assessment.”

“Didn’t have to. You’re already in your head about it.” He laughed, low and easy. “Just easing the pressure before it explodes.”

“You think you’re so smooth.” I slammed my laptop shut. “Bringing anyone to your mother’s gala?” I asked, abruptly shifting topics.

“A date?” He looked genuinely offended. “I don’t date.”

My gaze dropped to his arms, which strained against his dress shirt.

The man was trouble incarnate, all sharp edges and hotter than anyone had a right to be. One taste had been reckless enough; letting him unravel my career would be insanity.

“Why bring someone,” he murmured, leaning closer, “when I could go with you?”

Heat prickled up my neck, but I schooled my features. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“I know what I want.”

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