Page 84 of Sins of a King
“I don’t?”
“My godfather is coming in from Scotland.”
“That’s nice. What does that have to do with me? And interfering with my nap?”
Flynn’s lips twitched. “Malcolm was supposed to come after the charity event. He’s decided he doesn’t want to wait. He’ll be here tonight.”
“Still not getting it.” I blinked, feeling stupid. Damn exhaustion. It really screwed with intelligence.
“He wants to meet my girlfriend.”
“But—”
“Don’t fight me on it, okay? Just say you’ll meet my godfather.”
“Fine,” I said, my eyes closing, wanting to go back to sleep.
“Do you have dress clothes here?”
“No, I’ll have to go home and change.”
“Nap here, then I’ll have my driver take you home. Oh, and Barrett? Try not to look too sexy.”
“How do I look?” I asked as I slowly turned for Flynn’s inspection. When I met his gaze, his eyes were dark, his jaw tense.
“I told you not to look too sexy.”
“I don’t,” I protested.
“You do,” he insisted. “Can’t you put a sweater on or something?”
I took a deep breath. “My hemline is to my knee. The skirt of the dress flares out and doesn’t even hug my ass.”
“It hugs your other assets,” he growled.
“I have breasts, Flynn.”
“I know you have breasts.”
“You enjoy them quite a lot if I’m not mistaken.” I smiled suddenly. “You’re nervous!”
“I’m not.”
“Oh God, this is great. Flynn Campbell, powerful, assured hotel mogul is nervous.” I reached out to run my hands up his crisp shirt, loving the look of him in a gray suit and black tie.
“Barrett,” he clipped. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”
Smiling, I took his arm and let him escort me out of my apartment down to his waiting Rolls. I was feeling restored and fresh, and I was eager to meet the man that could ruffle Flynn’s feathers.
“So you want to give me a brief rundown of this man you’re parading me in front of?” I demanded when we were on our way to The Rex.
“Malcolm Buchanan was my father’s best friend. When my parents died, Malcolm took care of me. I was fifteen at the time and a complete terror.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all. You’re still a complete terror,” I teased.
We arrived at The Rex, and Flynn guided me into the bar and restaurant. We ordered drinks and waited for his godfather to arrive.
A tall, robust man in his sixties stalked into the room, his eyebrows bushy and gray. He looked like he was nothing short of stoic and unapproachable. Flynn’s face broke into a handsome smile when he spotted the man. And despite Malcolm’s countenance, he embraced Flynn like a son.
