Page 6 of The Merger
“No,” I command as if I can stop the liquid midair.Why? Why did I bring this with me?
My eyes widen as I shove away from him, my fingers raking over his torso. I watch helplessly as my drink splashes across his jacket, pristine white shirt, and silky tie.
In the distance, Tate groans.
My heart pounds against my rib cage. I take a quick breath before beginning my apologies, hoping I haven’t already ruined my chances. But instead of clarity and pace, my senses are flooded with Gannon’s intoxicating cologne. It’s clean and fresh with a subtle woodsy vibe that hints at power and seduction.
Not helpful.I’m seduced.
The breath I worked so hard to draw in is quickly exhaled.
“In a hurry?” Gannon asks, his tone prickled with irritation. The richness, though, licks at my frazzled nerves.
I look up and gasp.
His eyes are the color of a midnight sky with the slightest twinkle of an erotic intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. Stubble dusts his cheeks, giving ruggedness to his polished look that makes my heart skip a beat. But the smirk—arrogant yet rogue and absolutely sexy—turns my knees to jelly.
“I’m sorry,” I say, watching one of his large hands flick the droplets from his clothes. “I didn’t see you.”
“That’s great for the ego.” He switches his attention to Tate. “Am I interrupting something important?”
Do something, Carys.
I glance over my shoulder. Tate’s head is tipped to the ceiling, and his hands are running over his face. Next to his elbow is a box of tissues. I grab a handful before he notices.
“Not that I give a shit,” Gannon huffs at Tate’s non-reply. “Jason said you’re flying to Portland on Friday. If so, I’ll postpone the operations meeting until next week. You need to be there.”
“Yeah, I’m going to Portland,” Tate says. “I don’t want to, but there’s a dinner on Friday night and a charity gala on Saturday hosted by our Arrows investors. It would be a bad look if none of us showed up.”
“Poor you,” Gannon says as a blob of my latte pools at the end of his thin black tie and then drops to the floor, barely missing his shoes.
I can’t take it anymore. “Here, let me help you.”
Before he can protest, I step in front of him and press the wad of tissues against his chest.
“What are you doing?” he asks crisply, peering down at me.
“Cleaning you up. You’re dripping on the floor.” I snort. “That was your line.”
I start to laugh at my joke, but when my gaze collides with his, the laughter fades.
My God.
My hand stalls against him as heat radiates off his body. His eyes burn into mine. I force a swallow, willing my face not to turn beet red and my body not to pool on the floor beside my matcha.
“Again, I apologize,” I say, dragging my hand down his chest before it falls to my side. “I was just trying to help.”
“Help by staying over there.” He lifts a brow, reaching for tissues before patting as much liquid from himself as possible. “Who are you, anyway?”
I stare at him and try my hardest not to get lost in his eyes.What the hell?
“Really, Gan?” Tate asks.
“Who am I?” I ask, repeating Gannon’s question. While we haven’t exactly had a conversation before, I know damn good and well that he knows who I am. “That’s good for the ego.”
His lips twitch in an almost smile as if my irritation pleases him. This man is a menace. “I’m terrible with names.”
“That seems like an unfortunate deficiency for a CEO.”
