Page 22 of Cocky Prince
So whywouldAdam risk everything to get involved with Blackwell? Lewis is right. It doesn’t make sense.
Have I been wrong about Adam working with the CEO? The guy is an opportunist, but maybe not as bad as I originally thought. He seemed sincerely upset when I told him I was the girl he’d told Jaeger to dump.
Tyler grabs another handful of candy. “I’ll talk to Adam. See how things are at work.”
Mira twists around and steals a chocolate-covered nut from him. “Would he tell you what they’re doing at Blue?”
Tyler shrugs. “Can’t hurt to ask.”
She looks back at me. “You need to try talking to him too. You work side by side with him now.”
I press my fingers to my forehead. “Don’t remind me.”
I forgive Adam for the past, but that doesn’t mean I trust him. Mira’s right, though. We need inside information, and I’m the best person to get close to him at work and check things out. And for the first time, I hope Lewis is correct and Adam isn’t involved in anything illegal.
Chapter Nine
Adam
Bridget showsup for her first day of work, and she cometh bearing coffee.
Entering my office, she sets down a to-go cup on my desk. “No cream or sugar. You don’t seem like a sweets sort of guy.” She winks, and right away my day is off to a good start.
Bridget is wearing a light tweed pantsuit with a tasteful amount of cleavage in the form of a cream blouse with the top two buttons left open. A woman with forethought and a keen sense of aesthetics—what more could I ask for? As far as I’m concerned, I am a genius. I’ve hired the perfect assistant.
Hayden will be furious.
I rise from behind my desk, buttoning my suit jacket. “Why, thank you, Bridget. Let me show you where your office is.” I pick up the coffee and take a whiff. It’s a nutty, herbal scent. Gourmet.
Everything about my second encounter with Bridget is different. The day I hired her, I tracked her down at Club Desire. She’d been recommended by Paul, and was wearing a lot less. Despite her lack of clothing during the interview, she carried herself with a professional air and seemed eager for a change of environment.
I guide Bridget out of my office and to the right, where another room resides—this one small, but efficient. “IT set up your computer and connected your phone line. Most of our correspondence will be over email. You said you’re proficient with office software?”
“Oh yes. The girls and I needed to be.” She runs a finger along the edge of her desk, her expression shielded. “You’d be surprised how much extra business is done over the computer.”
Do I want to know what she’s referring to? I have a very good imagination.
“Why don’t you log in and get the lay of the land? A default password is posted on your monitor, along with instructions on how to change it. I’ve linked my calendar to yours. I’d like you to attend and take notes at all of the meetings highlighted in green, so please check the dates and times.”
“Of course.” Bridget sets her bag beside the chair at her desk and boots up her computer. She looks over, smiling. “I’ll just get settled.”
“Excellent.” And what a fine time to gloat it is. Hayden has accused me of it before; no need to disappoint her now. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to talk about the first meeting we have this afternoon.”
I head down the hall with a spring in my step. I rap on the door that is as familiar to me as my own.
“Come in,” Hayden calls.
I enter her office and notice her desk, which is, as usual, cluttered. And then there’s Hayden across the room, perfectly groomed in a snug, lightweight belted cardigan over a navy pencil skirt that hugs her shapely hips as she reaches to tuck a folder on the top shelf of a bookcase.
One of the first things I noticed about Hayden was her incredible figure, and I’m not talking skinny waif, but curves in all the right places and a small waist.
Her honey-brown hair and golden eyes flash as she glances over. “Oh, it’s you,” she says, as though she already knew it would be.
Am I that predictable? Hmm, somehow that doesn’t bother me.
I walk over and reach above her head, gently slipping the folder from her hand and putting it in place.
“Thank you,” she mumbles, and tugs in her bottom lip with her top. It plumps back out, wet and inviting. A thrill more potent than Blondie grabbing my junk last night bolts through me.
