Page 22 of Obsession

“Oh, and you know all about profit and loss?”

I stood taller. “No, but I know about the wealthy people who spend ridiculous amounts of money on the beautiful. I know you checked me out. I’ve worked in a gallery most of my life, and the amount of money people will spend on the pretty far outweighs what they will on security.”

“I think I know my business.”

“I don’t think you do.” I wanted to snatch my words back. I didn’t know crap about business. Not really. I knew enough to get by, and sooner or later, Mr. Carson would probably figure out that I was full of shit, but right now, I knew I was right.

He tilted his head, and the arctic was back in his eyes. “Is that right?”

“What’s your poison, Mr. Carson?” At his frown, I hurried on. “When you made your first million, what did you spend your money on? A car? A house? A rare album?”

“My first house,” he said tightly.

“And that first house, did you do anything extravagant? Something you’ve always wanted?”

The muscle in his jaw jumped, and he still loomed over me. Still so very close. Without his suit jacket, he was more citrusy. Fresh enough that I wanted to step into him and put my noseinto the center of his chest and see if he was as warm and delicious as I thought he’d be.

“That clock that’s in your showroom.” Suddenly, I knew. “That’s in your house.”

His nostrils flared, and I knew I was right.

“That’s what people want.” My heartbeat thundered behind my eyes and tried to leap out of my chest, but I rushed on. “Your name is already synonymous with distinction and beauty within the security circles. Add in the art side, and it would push your company over the top. I understand people with money, but more importantly, I know they want status above all else.”

“There’s no security in art.” He stepped back and walked out of the office without another word.

I slumped back against his desk. Then, because I knew he couldn’t see me, I leaned over to take a breath. Holy crap. What the hell was I thinking? This really wasn’t my job. I was supposed to be ingratiating myself, so he’d be more inclined to talk to me about the house. This was not going to help my case in any way.

I straightened up and looked out to the main area where my desk was. Blake was talking to Jack, and his hands were in his hair. God, I could see everything from this vantage point. The entire office was on display and my desk—that was the focus.

Was that so he had absolute control to micromanage his little kingdom, or was it more? He hadn’t come out to talk to me all damn day until Jack had come to my desk with food.

I shook my head. That line of thought was as stupid as it was dangerous.

I gathered my laptop and went to join them in the outer office.

“That’s brilliant. Do you realize how much we can make on those crazy LA people? They’ll pay thousands of dollars to have their freaking cars detailed with a simple pinstripe. Do you haveany idea what they’ll do for a one-of-a-kind window that lets them see out, and leaves the world dying to know what they’re doing?”

I hid a smile when Mr. Carson’s fingers fisted again. I decided silence was probably a better idea than an “I told you so.”

I tucked my laptop into the drawer and plugged it in. I was going to look for an outlet for the charger when I saw the little green light go on. My boss really was the most organized man ever.

Jack came around my desk and dragged me into a hug. He lifted me off the ground. “Genius.”

I squeaked and couldn’t help but laugh. “Put me down.”

“I’m a security guy. I would never have thought to make the stupid glass pretty.”

“Stupid glass?” Mr. Carson asked incredulously. “That stupid glass bought you a house in Hawaii and that asinine collection of old trucks that you love.”

“This is true.” Jack wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “But now I can buy more trucks because this is going to be money, buddy.”

Mr. Carson tipped his head back and seemed to be counting to ten. “Both of you get out of here. I need to crunch numbers.” He pointed at me. “You, I need here before seven tomorrow. It’s going to be a very long day.”

I nodded. A long day with him tomorrow? Yeah. I was absolutely losing my mind, but I nodded, anyway. “Yes, Mr. Carson.”

He stalked to his office and started rolling back his sleeves. Before I could get a good look at the sepia-toned ink climbing his forearm, he was hidden behind his glass.

Dammit.

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