Page 119 of King of Pain
Private Eyes
Anthony
I wake to the familiar weight of Guinness pressed against my side; his warm body curled up next to mine. The early morning light creeps through the window of my first-floor apartment.
My bedroom is small but comfortable, the dark wooden bed frame and all white bedding giving it a grounded, cozy feel. A bookshelf in the corner is stacked with novels and work folders, and my framed photo of me and Jen sits on the nightstand.
I got this place in the suburbs, about twenty minutes from the office, for me and Little G after my lease was up at Chance’s. It was a fresh start that coincided with my promotion.
Little G stirs as I shift, his big brown eyes blinking up at me, and I ruffle the fur on his head before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My feet hit the cool hardwood floor as I stretch, then pull on a pair of boxer briefs, sweats, and a hoodie for our morning walk.
Outside, the January air is crisp, the neighborhood waking up around us. Little G trots beside me, sniffing at everything, his tail wagging with contentment. The sidewalks are quiet, lined with desert landscaping and the occasional jogger passes by.
I let my mind drift as we walk, my stomach knotting at the thought of lunch with Jason Ciccone today. Meg practically insisted I go, and now I’m dreading being alone with our newest, and most flirtatious, client. It’s not that I don’t know how to handle him—I just don’t want to deal with it.
Back at the apartment, I head straight for the master suite bathroom, and start the shower. The modern gray tiling andglass shower give it a sleek look, a definite upgrade from the last place.
Our place.
I shed my clothes and step into the hot shower, letting the water pound against my skin, washing away the last remnants of sleep.
After my body’s clean and dry, I tug on black slacks, a baby blue dress shirt, and black dress shoes. I catch my reflection in the mirror above the dark wood vanity and give myself a nod of approval. I can afford dress clothes that fit me properly now. My wardrobe when I first started the internship left much to be desired.
I glance over at the bundle of fur dozing in the bedroom doorway. “Okay, Little G… like Dolly said, I’m going to go pour myself a cup of ambition.”
In the kitchen, I start the coffee maker, the scent of freshly ground beans filling the air. Little G sits by his bowl and gives me his best Sarah McLachlan commercial eyes. I laugh while opening the narrow pantry door and fill his bowl.
I lean against the island and pull out my phone while I wait for the coffee to brew. My fingers hover over the search bar before I type inChance Sullivan Boston, thenMary Sullivan Boston. As usual, nothing useful comes up. I lock my phone and shove it into my pocket, exhaling slowly.
The coffee maker beeps, and I pour the steaming liquid into a travel thermos. “You ready to go to doggy day care?” I ask Little G, and his tail wags furiously in response.
I walk him to the car and get him settled. After hopping in the driver’s seat and start pulling out of the parking lot, my eyes catch on a black SUV parked not far from my apartment. A mountain of a muscular man sits behind the wheel; his gaze trained somewhere in the distance.
A flicker of recognition pulls at me. I’m almost certain I’ve seen that guy—and that same SUV—before. Maybe at the gym? God, my brain is a paranoid mess. It’s not like black SUVs aren’t common. I shake it off and get my eyes on the road to drop Little G off and get to the office.
I get to the office building, heading straight to the elevator. As I step inside, I find myself thinking, again, about lunch with Jason today. He makes me nervous—not just because he’s so flirty, but because I can’t deny I’m attracted to him. His personality, olive-toned skin, bright smile, and athletic body are a dangerous combination. It’s not that I don’t welcome the attention, but he’s the first guy who’s really caught my eye since Chance, and that throws me off more than I’d like to admit.
The elevator dings, and I step out, making my way to my desk. After unpacking my laptop and logging in, a notification pops up on the company messaging app.
Meg:Swing by my office when you get in.
I take a deep breath, then head to her office, tapping lightly on the door.
Meg looks up from her desk, smiling. “Have a seat, Anthony.”
She’s effortlessly put together, as always. A stylish silk blouse in deep emerald complements her complexion, and her dark hair is swept up into an elegant yet practical updo. She gestures to the chair across from her, and I sit.
“I want to talk to you about your lunch with Jason today.”
I swallow and nod.
Meg leans forward slightly. “I’m sure you realize it’s unusual for an assistant to have a one-on-one meal with a client.”
I nod again, nerves prickling. “I—I don’t need to go.”
Meg shakes her head. “No, sorry, that’s not what I’m saying. I encouraged you to take the meeting because I think it will be good experience for you.”
I exhale, somewhat relieved, then Meg adds, “And let’s not mince words here—the man is gorgeous, which means we have sponsors clamoring to associate his face with their brand. Those campaigns and contracts are one of your top talents. This will be great practice for you.”
