Page 8 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

“Angelo Taylor,” he replied before adding, “And this is my assistant, Calliope.”

I can be a little bitch too, bunny.

Angelo nearly snickered at the pun he just made up in his head. It was so bad it could have earned him a groan from even the cheesiest dad joke aficionado. The bunny visibly stiffened at the extra information he supplied as she looked through the computer, her ears twitching in what Angelo imagined was mild annoyance.

Not as if it’s her job or anything.

“Mr. Lockwood’s office is on the top floor,” she finally informed them. He wasn’t surprised that the selfish man would place his office so high up, considering how inflated his ego was supposed to be.

When Angelo and his personal assistant reached the top floor after an awkward elevator ride in total silence, they were met byanother tall woman with the same sense of style and the same uncomfortably tight bun, only this one had hair a dirty-looking shade of brown.

The brown bunny greeted them, making sure to inform them that Mr. Lockwood had been waiting for a few minutes, and showed them to the man’s office.

Angelo took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs like he was trying to inflate a deflated balloon. His nerves had been on fire the entire week, a swirling cocktail of anxiety and dread about today’s meeting. It felt like he had swallowed a live wire, and each tick of the clock only added to the electric tension in his stomach.

Calliope cleared her throat softly, bringing him back to the present and he glanced at her discreetly.

“Time to put on our best smiles,” he deadpanned, his face devoid of any grin. She snickered, muffling the sound behind the tightly-clutched notebook. Angelo joined her, shaking his head as he chuckled lightly.

She gestured to the boardroom with a subtle nod, and they both straightened, heading in. The meeting room was as flashy as the rest of the building. It seemed they had a theme going. The entire skyscraper was full of dark browns and golds, with honest-to-God chandeliers on every ceiling. Every. Single. One.

Angelo felt bad for the poor souls who had to clean this place.

The man of the hour was seated at the head of a very long conference table, facing the double doors Angelo had just stepped through. Wall-to-wall window panes illuminated Oliver Lockwood’s figure, the contrast making him look like Satan himself.

Angelo sat down at the remaining head seat, sending a silent signal of his own that he knew exactly what the old prick was trying to do. He relaxed into his seat, showing no hint of hownervous he was. He was in control. He wouldn’t be swayed by these cheap methods, or overcome by his anxious feelings.

Or so he thought. Because as soon as the door behind him opened again and he saw who had just entered, he nearly fell off his chair.

What. The actual. Fuck.

He knew that woman. He had fucked that woman. Several times in the same night. On his hotel bed. And the hotel bathroom. And then on the goddamn carpeted floor.

Memories flooded his mind. Of her sandy blonde hair falling in smooth waves down her back. Hair he had held onto and pulled as he had pummeled into her from behind. The dark pink, skin-tight mini dress accentuating her slim waist and her long, thick legs. Legs she’d wrapped around him as he had held her in his arms and fucked her against the goddamn shower wall. Her dark red lips wrapped around a glass, downing shot after shot of tequila. Lips he had kissed thoroughly and lipstick he had smeared all over her perfect, round face. With his cock.

I was right. I’m so screwed.

He said a quick prayer for his poor dick that would have to suffer through this meeting with the only woman he’d fucked in the past six months.

The gorgeous woman was tense as she moved, eyes not straying left or right. Her shoulders were stiff and unmoving as she went ahead to sit on Lockwood’s right side, signifying she was his—

Oh God. I had sex with Oliver Lockwood’s personal assistant.

The meeting was excruciating.

What was intended to be an introductory conversation about a merger turned into an interrogation, with Lockwood grilling Angelo from the moment the conference room filled until it emptied. He questioned his motives, experience, and plans for the partnership—even his father’s health. It was clear he was fishing for the reason Angelo’s father had stepped down.

You and me both, buddy. Ew,notbuddies.

Now, only the two of them remained in the room. Their PA’s waited just outside.

Bad move. Do not think of the sex-with-legs.

Lockwood sighed, slapping Angelo on the back. Angelo nearly shrugged off the disgusting man but managed to stop himself.

“Well, son, this was a good meeting. I think we can really make something great here,” the old man said, his hand still resting uncomfortably on Angelo’s shoulder, as if he were trying to stake a claim. Lockwood’s look made it clear that nobody said no to him, a fact that Angelo was about to challenge in the most delightful way.

Angelo shrugged off Lockwood’s hairy hand—seriously, gross—like it was a piece of lint stuck to his shirt. He straightened up, standing at his full height, unwavering. He was taller than the man and felt a rush of control wash over him. Lockwood’s almost-friendly smile faltered, fading like an old photograph left out in the sun too long.

---