Page 24 of Filthy Rich

“For having your boyfriend pay for the damages of the eight ruined designer suits. The cocktail sauce…” He trailed off.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. Who paid for it?” I couldn’t imagine who?—

“Your friend, Caleb, then. He gave me his card after you quit and said he’d take care of any damages. He paid close to fifty grand for all those suits. Designer threads are expensive.” He shrugged. “Anyway, thanks for your help with everything. Good luck, Brooke.”

He waved once as he went out the door, to which I lifted my hand in response.

I think.

For the second time today, I’d been rendered completely speechless by the covert activities of Caleb Blackstone in regards to me.

What in the hell was he doing? And more importantly,why?

“Mr. Blackstone is here.” Eduardo wore a telling smirk on his face as he leaned into my doorway, an extra sparkle in his dark eyes. It was easy to see he was clearly enjoying the spectacle caused by Caleb’s visit today, along with everyone else. The man was definitely worthy of a head turn from what I remembered, and the pictures on the Internet were helpful in jogging my memory as well. His good looks had a bit of a harsh edge to them, but my God, it only made him more attractive. Google had his personal net worth between one and two billion dollars, mostly in oil and sustainable energy. Caleb Blackstone was a legitimate billionaire. What he wanted with me was muchmore of a mystery. I’d have Eduardo breathing down my neck for that very information as soon as the solemnly hot Mr. Blackstone put me in the know.

“I still don’t understand why he’s asked for me specifically. Why didn’t he request Jon or Carlisle? His budget is bloody huge and I am a junior designer.”

Eduardo cocked his head to the right and his hip to the left in artful unison and rolled his eyes at me. His flair for the dramatic was as expected as it was ridiculously funny. “I can safely say it’s because Jon and Carlisle don’t have a rack as nice as yours, condesa.” He crinkled his nose in distaste. “Although Jon is catching up—he must be a solid B cup by now. All of those midmorning runs for French pastry aren’t helping,” he whispered loudly.

I cut him off before he could lapse into a tirade that I didn’t want to hear right now. “Yes, thank you, Eduardo, for that scintillating assessment of Jon’s developing breasts. What does Mr. Blackstone want from me?” Panic was starting to settle in.

“I think he wants to play hide the sausage with you, but that’s just me.”

“You are so unhelpful right now it’s scary. I know why Jon and Carlisle offered me a part-time assistant. They had absolutely no idea what else to do with you.”

“But I am always honest and that’s a valuable trait to have in an employee,” he told me with a sassy grin.

“Right.” I sighed heavily and realized there was no point making Caleb wait on me. He owned five million dollars of the company’s design services—from me personally—and so I suppose that made him my new boss. I couldn’t put him off for another second. “Eduardo, please show Mr. Blackstone in.”

I listened for Eduardo’s flamboyant announcement and cringed. “Miss Casterley is ready for you, Mr. Blackstone.”

I stood and held out my hand in greeting as he walked inside my office, his tall frame filling the small space immediately with a presence that made my heart take a sharp dive. “Caleb…”

He took my hand but not to shake, rather to pull me in toward him so he could kiss me on the cheek. “Brooke,” he whispered below my ear. The brush of his beard stubble and soft lips to my skin brought an instant heat that threatened to burn me. He held me just an instant too long before he released me. I stumbled slightly as I stepped back, utterly rattled. His arm came out to steady me, and his eyes locked on to mine. I could see the color of them as they blazed at me—dark blue with a thick golden ring around the pupil.

Unusual but beautiful eyes held me overlong for what they should have done.

It dawned on me that I was not in control of the situation, and that helped to snap me out of my hypnotic episode.

Bloody hell…Caleb Blackstone. Those pictures I’d looked at earlier on Google Images didn’t even come close to the actual man in the flesh. I hadn’t really taken a serious look at him that night we’d met. Yes, I’d thought him handsome, but there had been so many men hitting on me I’d been too distracted to focus on the details. Wow.

I separated my arm from his touch and moved toward my own chair, praying my legs wouldn’t fail me. “P-please have a seat.” I indicated the chair for him before I remembered to ask, “Shall I take your c-coat?”

“No, thank you, I’ll keep it.” He flicked open the buttons before lowering his big masculine body to sit in my pink velvet slipper chair. It was quite the contradiction of image, and I had the freakish urge to take a picture of him sitting in it. I wanted to kiss the damn chair when it didn’t creak as Caleb leaned back and relaxed into the seat as if he owned it. He did own it now actually, I reminded myself. His long legs encased in dark graysilk trousers, showing the cut definition of his thigh muscles, seemed to take up all the space between the chair and my table desk. I didn’t know where to push myself in without being practically on top of him. Now that was an image…

Stop it. Stop looking him over like a piece of meat, tit-head.

I managed to get my arse into my own chair and give him my attention. Just barely.

“I’ve surprised you, haven’t I?” He gave me a half grin turned up on only one side, both charming and wicked at the same time. I was in very deep trouble here. As in Marianas Trench depth level of trouble.

“Caleb—please help me understand why you requested me as lead designer on your renovation. Surely you want a designer with more experience?—”

“Brooke, I want you,” he said, cutting me off neatly. “That is all you need to know about my reasons.”

In what way do you want me? Because I’m getting all kinds of mixed messages here, Caleb Blackstone, with the beautiful and unusual eyes.“Well, it would help me to feel more comfortable with the situation if you might share a bit more with me. I’m—I am a junior designer and I’ve not the years of experience Mr. Harris or Mr. Goode could give to your project.”

“I told Mr. Harris I wanted a woman’s touch in the elements of the overarching theme for the penthouse. Didn’t he tell you?”

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