Page 1 of The Truth of Loving You

Chapter one

Shane

“Whothefuckareyou?” demanded the gorgeous man swiveling in my office chair.

My overworked brain came to a screeching halt, which never happened. It was always calculating hundreds of scenarios, but right now, it only focused on intricate tattoo sleeves on bulging arm muscles and a chest stretching the limits of his T-shirt.

I stood paralyzed in my office doorway, vaguely aware of my unprecedented attraction to him. He didn’t belong here and shouldn’t have been able to get past security.

“Get out and shut the door behind you,” he ordered with a slight slur in his low, gruff voice that turned up the static in my brain.

I had a love/hate relationship with static in my head. It either preceded an epic panic attack or blessed numbness. His perplexing effect on me had caused the world to hit pause, so only this stunning man existed. I blinked hard, as if that act would explain why the stranger with haunted green eyes—ones staring daggers at me—were so captivating. He was objectively good-looking, but I’d never thought of men as gorgeous, even if his low growl overrode my incessant thoughts.

“Do I need to call security?” he taunted.

My brain crashed at the thought of being thrown out of my new office and dream job by an intoxicated guy whose sandy brown hair had a rumpled, just rolled-out-of-bed style, but still managed to complete his sexy, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-vibe. His gaze raked over me, and I had the urge to straighten my clothes and run a hand through my unruly hair but refrained.

“Security,” he sang in a melodic voice loud enough for the surrounding offices to hear.

Since it was late, no one answered his call, and the silence cocooned around us.

“Listen, you need to leave Pax’s office.”

This office had been empty for years, its last occupant had been the CEO’s beloved son-in-law and protégé, Paxton. This guy didn’t belong here, and his connection to Paxton only brought more questions.

His presence took up so much space it made it hard to breathe. He made my executive mahogany desk seem pretentious, and my chair barely contained his impressive frame. I drank in his tattoos, and the desire to trace them overwhelmed me. I’d never been attracted to tattoos before. The man smirked as if reading my mind.

“This is my office now. You’re trespassing. It’s time for you to leave.” I gathered my courage, standing to my full height despite his disdain.

He dropped his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth. “The old man finally did it. Un-fucking-believable.” His green eyes ensnared me as he raised his head. “What’s your name, pretty boy?” he asked, and I hated that my body and brain responded to his voice.

“What’s your name? Security will be interested in who you are.” I’d been bullied most of my life, and I refused to yield to him. He sighed as if undecided whether or not to answer me.

“Cole.” His head raised and pieces fell into place.

This was Cole Branson, the son of Donald Branson, the founder of Branson Financial Inc. Cole’s deceased husband was Paxton—the man I’d been hired to replace.

Cole watched as recognition flashed across my face, and my stomach plummeted. I never imagined being face-to-face with Cole.

“Shane,” I whispered, my voice disappearing along with my brain. “My name is Shane; this is my office,” I said louder while cringing inside. My ability to converse like a human vanished, but that blessed numbness in my head made it hard to care.

“So you’re the boy genius my father hired. Faux Pax.” Cole stood and narrowly avoided face-planting.

His words were meant to sting and they might have if pain wasn’t etched into his entire being. He staggered across the room toward me. The urge to help overwhelmed me, but this entire situation rendered me useless. Cole overloaded every single one of my brain cells.

He was not involved in the business, and according to the rumors, wouldn’t even inherit any of his father’s controlling stake in the company.

My employment ignited a firestorm of speculation and rumors, since the company functioned without Paxton for years. Cole’s name had been mentioned, and it was clear he was unwelcome.

But this broken man spoke to all the broken parts of me. I recognized his pain.

Cole abruptly halted in front of me; his emerald eyes locked me in place and brought goosebumps to my skin. Cole’s hand clumsily landed on my cheek. “Such a pretty boy,” he murmured.

“I am not a boy.” I remained stock still as he stroked my cheek, and my words brought a grin to his face. The effect was blinding, akin to staring into the sun. That sort of smile should only be allowed on supermodels and actors, not a broken-hearted man, breaking and entering a secure financial building.

I was definitely having an out-of-body experience with a comfortably numb brain. No panic. Numb. Because of him—for him.

Cole leaned forward, and my heart fell to the floor with the realization that he intended to kiss me. Without permission, my toes lifted my body to meet his lips, but he abruptly jerked away.

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