Page 70 of The Merger
“I understand. Your name?”
“Carys Johnson.”
He steps back and tilts his head to his shoulder. His mouth moves against a tiny speaker that’s barely visible, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.
I tap my fingers nervously against the steering wheel as rain begins to splatter against my windshield. It never occurred to me that I’d be interrogated before the security guards would allow me through the gates. The security at Tate’s knows me and lets me in with a wave.
“Okay, ma’am,” the man says. “You’re good to go. Have a good evening.”
“Thank you.”
He punches a button, and the oversized iron gates creep open.
I flip on my wipers as the rain begins to come down harder. Tall trees line either side of the driveway in neat lines. Small lights are attached to the trunk of each tree, illuminating the drive to the house ahead.
“Holy shit,” I mutter as the structure becomes clearer.
Gannon’s house is out of this world.
A stone facade is punctuated by oversized, tinted windows and dark metal trim. It’s two, maybe three stories with a covered patio extending the length of the house on the upper floor. Shrubs and ornamental grasses are perfectly manicured, as is the expansive lawn that extends in all directions.
I roll to a stop just before the driveway leads between the house on one side and another large building on the other. The patio overhead connects the two like a bridge.
“Where do I go?” I ask, glancing around.
Thankfully, a text buzzes, and I swipe my phone up immediately.
Gannon: Security said you were here. Meeting running long. Park beneath the portico and come in that door. My office is down the hall. First door on your left.
“Great,” I say, pressing the gas slowly. “This won’t be weird or anything.”
I inch my way beneath the portico until I spot the door Gannon mentioned. I place the car in park, get out, and lock it.
“You’re getting fucked tonight.”
Excitement sweeps through me as I walk to the door. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass.Not bad.
I had no idea what to wear to afucking appointment, but I didn’t want too much fabric to get in the way. I’ve waited for this for far too long to fumble with pants. So I chose a short, beaded tangerine skirt, a tight white top with a built-in bra that hits at my navel, and gold heels that aren’t nearly as high as the pair I wore to Courtney’s party. Big hoop earrings look great with my messy updo and sun-kissed makeup.
Gannon will approve.
It takes a bit of effort to pull the door open. It also takes effort to step inside the house.
Wow. I blink, taking it all in as the door shuts behind me.This is incredible.
The design is bright and airy, with light flooring and creamy-colored walls. The chandelier overhead is massive with reflective crystals dangling from all sides. A large piece of art faces the door with splashes of blues, grays, and pale yellows.
A living room is off to my right, and a hallway extends ahead.
My office is down the hall. First door on your left.
Anticipation blooms in my belly as my heels tap against the floor. My skin is already hot and tight, threatening to explode if I don’t find a release to the pent-up energy I’ve corralled for days. A whiff of my perfume floats through the air as I peek into the room on my left.
All the air in my body exhales in one shaky breath.
Gannon sits at a large wooden desk that faces the door, but his focus is on a computer monitor. He has earbuds in his ears, and he’s still dressed in the suit from earlier, sans jacket. His hair looks as if he’s run his fingers through it a million times.
I can’t wait until it’s my turn to do that.
