Page 12 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

"Focus, Liam," I mutter to myself, scrubbing a hand over my face. I can't afford distractions.

Not from Shiloh, not from anyone.

I’m on my way back from lunch with a client a few days later when I get a call from one of my richest friends—a baseball player down in Atlanta who’s sure to be in some kind of trouble.

I pick up, my voice smooth as I say, “Liam Nolan.”

"Liam, it's Derek. We've got a situation down here in Atlanta," comes the hasty reply. The voice is rushed, tinged with apprehension, and I can almost picture Derek Turner, one of my highest-profile clients, pacing the floor of some opulent mansion.

"Talk to me," I say, striding into the lobby downstairs from Aegis.

"It's about the wife of another player... there's a scandal brewing, and it could blow up any second. I need you here, man."

"Understood," I respond, already mentally rearranging my week. "I'll be on the next flight out."

"Thanks, Liam. You're a lifesaver."

The line goes dead just as I walk through the elevator doors on the top floor, and I tap Shiloh on the shoulder as I walk back into my office. "Shiloh, get in here."

Moments later, the door swings open with a soft whoosh, and she steps back into my office, her presence both unsettling and essential. "You called?"

"Change of plans." I don't look up from my screen. "I need you to book me a flight to Atlanta first thing tomorrow morning.Find a hotel close to our Atlanta offices and clear my schedule for the next three days."

"Right away." There's a slight quiver in her voice, but when I glance up, she's all business. "Will you be needing anything else while you're there?"

"Make sure the car service is available round the clock. And—" I stop myself, realizing I'm about to add 'make it discreet.' But with Shiloh, it's an unnecessary reminder; she knows how I operate.

"Got it. Anything else?" She has a notepad poised, pen in hand, ready to capture every detail.

"Arrange a meeting with Harrison before I leave. He needs to be kept in the loop." I watch as she scribbles notes, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Consider it done." She nods crisply, then hesitates. "Will there be anything else specific you'll need from me while you're gone?"

"I don’t know—maybe stop asking so many questions, Shiloh?" I raise an eyebrow, a hint of irritation lacing my words. Her thoroughness is part of what makes her an excellent assistant, but right now, it grates on my nerves. Each question she asks feels like a small jab at my already thin patience.

"Only trying to anticipate your needs," she replies, her tone even but her eyes betraying a flicker of defiance.

"Anticipate silently." It's a low blow, but I can't help it. The less I engage with her, the better I can control the dangerous impulses she unwittingly stirs within me.

"Understood." Her jaw sets, but she doesn't argue. Instead, she turns on her heel, leaving me to wrestle with the conflict roaring inside my chest—the need for professional distance warring against the pull of forbidden desire.

Turning back to my computer, I try to refocus on the contracts in front of me. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, Shiloh'spresence still lingering like an aftertaste. The click of the door signals her return and my frustration peaks.

"Shiloh," I start, not bothering to mask my annoyance as I swivel around in my chair to face her. "I thought I made myself clear—"

Her eyes are wide, earnest. Too earnest. "I just need to confirm—the flight to Atlanta. You prefer the window seat, right? And you'll want to stay at the usual—"

"Enough!" The word ricochets off the walls of my office, sharper than I intend. It slices through the air, and for a moment, I see something flicker across her expression.

Hurt? Fear?

I can't quite tell, and I hate that it bothers me… but I need to make it clear that she can’t keep interrupting me like this.

Or maybe I just want her alone.

Maybe I get off on intimidating her.

"Shut the door," I command, cutting her off mid-sentence. My voice is terse, my patience frayed to the very limit.

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