Page 756 of One More Kiss

Nicholas

When I arriveat the office the next morning, I’m anxious to see Riley. I’ve actually been concerned about her father, which is odd since I’ve never met the man. Maybe I’m inevitably concerned about Riley. She seems shaken up, and I need her full attention on this project.

Yeah, I’m going to go with that explanation, because the other heads down a completely different path that I’m not ready to admit to yet. Nicholas Brooks does not care.

I head towards my office early, determined to talk to her before the meeting today. As I walk past my temporary secretary, Paula, the middle-aged woman waves her hand at me.

“Mr. Brooks, Miss Moore called earlier. She had a family emergency and will not be coming in today.”

“Moore?”

“Yes, Riley Moore, the interior designer,” she explains.

“Of course,” I snap, annoyed that I won’t get a chance to talk to her again. I’m about to walk off when I have an idea. “Get me Ms. Moore’s phone number and address.”

Surprise flashes over her face, but she quickly covers it up with a tight smile. “No problem, sir.”

Stomping into my office, I slam the door shut a little harder than necessary. Why is this bothering me so much? I sit behind my desk and loosen my tie, feeling as if it’s constricting my breathing.

She seemed genuine yesterday. I believed her story about her father, but doubt creeps up my spine. Could she have possibly lied about it just to get away? Simply to get out of talking to me? Honestly, I don’t know her well enough to be sure. She’s been so quiet, and avoids my gaze the same way I avoid hers. It’s been hard to get a read on her.

Opening my laptop, I wait for Paula to send me the information I asked for. A moment later my computer chimes and an email flashes across the side of the screen. I open the email and copy Riley’s phone number and address into my phone.

I add her information to my contacts and hit the green dial button immediately after.

Holding the phone to my ear, I let what I’m gonna say to her run through my head, but before I get far, I realize her phone is off and am shot straight to voicemail.

“Riley Moore here. Leave a message,” her sexy voice comes through the receiver and I hang up. I don’t want to leave a fucking message. I want to talk to her, and if she doesn’t answer her phone, I guess the only other option is to go to her.

* * *

Normally the daysat the office go by fast, especially when I work on a project I like, and I love this project. Still, today time passes slowly, at a snail’s pace. All I can think about is finally getting to talk to Riley. We need to clear the air before I can get back to normal.

Mentally, I go through the steps of what I’m going to do and say. I’ll head to her apartment as soon as I leave the office. Explain to her that what happened is in the past, that she is now my employee, and that I’m her boss, so what we did can’t happen again. Then all will be well, and I can go back to being my normal asshole self, who cares nothing for anyone or anything, and put all my attention into the project.

Climbing into my BMW, I type the coordinates into the GPS and pull out of the parking garage. White knuckling the steering wheel the entire time, I peer out the window, realizing the longer I drive the deeper I get into the bad part of town. I double-check the address Paula gave me, just to be sure there isn’t some type of mistake.

Could she have given me the wrong one? Why would Riley live here?

I almost turn around, but decide on at least checking. I park on the side of the road in front of an outdated apartment complex. My car sticks out like a sore thumb between a rusted van and a banged-up Honda. Most of the houses and apartments are run down in this area, and if Riley really lives here, there are going to be some problems.

Getting out of the car, I lock it and walk up to the front door, which is cracked open. That’s safe. I shake my head and walk inside. The walk up to her apartment is a long one, and each step creaks beneath my feet. The carpet is stained and a putrid green color. Walls stained with God knows what, and the strange pattern that mars the ceiling is very close to blood spatter.

Her apartment is on the third floor, all the way to the end of the hall. The light bulbs towards that end are all burned out, making this an excellent spot for a predator.

She better not be living here.

A growl builds in my chest. I lift my fist and knock at the door, the sound echoing through the space. Pausing, I wait for someone to open it, but no one does. I don’t hear anything, no movement inside. I knock again, but there’s still no answer.

I’m about to head back to my car when I hear someone traipsing down the hallway. I look up and find exactly who I was looking for walking towards me. Because I’m standing at the end of the hall with no light, I can see her before she can see me, lurking in the shadows.

Her brown hair is in a messy bun, she’s wearing no makeup, and instead of her usual business attire, she’s dressed casually in jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. She looks younger like this, almost like a teenager coming home from hanging out with her friends.

Only when she gets closer do I see her face more clearly. Dark circles under her glassy eyes make her look exhausted. She wasn’t lying. Something has happened to her father. I feel terrible for even considering she was lying. It’s clear that she has had a hard day.

Frozen on the spot, I wait until she gets close enough to see me. She looks up and lets out a loud shriek while jumping back two feet. The scene is oddly familiar, reminding me of the first time we met, when I startled her as she was getting into the elevator. Instantly, my cock is straining in my pants, thinking about that night.

Down, boy.

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