Page 22 of Guarded King

Thankfully, in a matter of minutes, people start to filter out, and by the time we reach the foyer, there are only half a dozen passengers. As the doors open, Roman’s palm lands briefly against the small of my back, the unexpected heat of it seeping through my blouse and sending my pulse skittering.

He drops it as soon as we’re out of the confined space and strides briskly ahead. I quicken my pace, doing my best to keep up with his. Fortunately, when he glances back and sees me lagging behind him, he slows so I can keep up.

“Thank you.” I smile up at him.

He slants me a look and gives me a terse nod before facing straight ahead again. I resist the increasingly familiar urge to roll my eyes. He’s as charming as ever.

Outside, a sleek black town car idles at the curb. When the man hovering next to it sees us coming, he opens the back door. “Good morning, Mr. King. Miss.” He smiles at me.

“Phillip, this is my new assistant. Miss Callahan.”

“Chloe,” I say, holding out my hand.

He shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Chloe.”

Roman’s low grumble interrupts. “Okay, that’s enough chitchat.”

Phillip gives me a wink and a mischievous grin as I slide into the back seat. Roman gets in next to me, his large form dominating the space, making the air inside the car feel a little short of oxygen.

I do my best to focus on why I’m here. “What’s your main goal for the meeting?”

He glances up from his phone. “At this stage, it’s an initial meeting to go over the proposed terms for contracting Haverscombe Industries to oversee the InnovaCore project.”

Recalling the concerns he mentioned earlier, I ask, “But you’re not sure?”

He nods slowly. “My father dealt with Haverscombe quite a bit. I want to meet with him face-to-face before signing anything.” His gaze lingers on my face, long enough to set off a flutter in my stomach.

I wet my lips, and Roman’s eyes flare briefly before his expression shutters. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive. Read up on our past contracts with Haverscombe before we get there.”

With a nod, I pull out my tablet. But the entire drive is a battle against distraction. Every time he shifts in his seat or his arm grazes mine, tiny prickles of electricity dance over my skin. I take a deep breath, hoping to center myself, but it backfires as my nose fills with the crisply masculine scent of his cologne. Exhaling slowly, I force my attention back to the information on my screen and away from how mouthwatering he smells.

By the time we arrive at the Haverscombe Industries office building, I’ve refocused. Roman stays close as we move through the hallways, his body angled just slightly behind mine in a way that feels… protective. Which doesn’t make sense. What reason would he have to feel protective of me?

Finally, we reach a glass-walled meeting room filled mostly with middle-aged men, and he ushers me inside. There are two empty seats side by side, so I sit in one and Roman takes the other.

As I settle in, placing my tablet on the table, I do my best to ignore the way several of the men are eyeing me. It’s the same way Geoff used to look at me. A sly kind of knowing look that is, unfortunately, far too common among men like these.

I shift in my seat, tucking my hair behind my ears.

Beside me, Roman makes a noise low in his throat. When I glance up, his jaw is set, and his sharp gaze moves deliberately from one man to the next. His expression all but screamsdon’t mess with me. I may have only worked for him for a few days, but I’ve never felt anything close to wary in his presence. The look he’s giving them now, though, would be enough to make anyone nervous.

The way they quickly shift their attention from me to him eases tension in my shoulders I didn’t even realize was there.

“Are you going to introduce us to the lovely lady, Roman?” the man seated opposite asks. If my research is correct, he’s Roger Haverscombe, the owner of the company.

“My assistant, Miss Callahan.” Roman’s clipped tone leaves no room for further questions.

“Nice to meet you… Miss Callahan.” Haverscombe’s oily smile dips toward my chest, sending an unpleasant shiver down my spine.

I pull my shoulders back. “You too, Mr. Haverscombe.” Despite the distaste crawling through me, I don’t look away. Roman needs an assistant who can hold her ground with men like this, so that’s exactly what I’ll do. If I could remain professional during the six months I dealt with Geoff’s wandering eyes and thinly veiled innuendos, I can certainly handle this.

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” Roman says, a bite in his voice. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

For the next hour, the men debate terms and conditions for the proposed partnership. I do my best to keep up with the rapid back-and-forth, typing quickly and noting areas where Roman might want to investigate further before making a decision. This is definitely more intense than the meetings I attended in my previous position, and the numbers being thrown around are far beyond anything I’ve dealt with before. But I push aside thoughts of the astronomical amounts and rely on common sense, along with what I’ve read in the files, to discern what’s critical.

Finally, Roman clears his throat, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. “I think we have enough to make a decision,” he states. “I’ll discuss this with my COO, and we’ll get back to you early next week.”

Haverscombe frowns. “Your father would have made a decision on the spot.”

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