Page 127 of The Arrogant One
Lockhart
And you know what color panties and bra I want you to wear underneath.
Me
Lockhart … it’s your office.
Lockhart
And?
Me
I’m not exactly good at being quiet.
Lockhart
I’m not telling you that you have to be.
When I reached the top floor of Lockhart’s building, I carried the large container of cupcakes out of the elevator and approached the receptionist. I gave her my name—the same process I’d done downstairs when I first walked into the building—and while she typed something into her computer, I took a look around the space.
Visiting The Weston Group’s corporate headquarters hadn’t been on my bingo card prior to dating Lockhart. But I was fascinated with the inner workings of a group as massive as theirs—how they operated, how they chose locations, and how they balanced so many different cuisines under the same umbrella. Lockhart had slowly been letting me into his professional world, and I was honored that he asked for my opinion on things.
The receptionist politely asked me to follow her down a long hallway of what appeared to be private offices. I hadn’t envisioned what this space would look like. If it would be blank walls and bland carpet, the smell of wood cleaner in the air.
This was nothing like that.
The entire floor, from what I’d seen so far, had a design similar to Charred, with rich, bold colors and warm wallpapered walls and a wood floor that gave this long and endless hallway a cozy feel. It was masculine without being overwhelming and powerful, like there was a red carpet beneath your feet.
The receptionist stopped outside a closed door and knocked twice, and when called upon, she opened it just slightly and said, “Go ahead in, Ms. Spencer.”
I thanked her, and as the door widened enough to let me in, I was surprised to find Lockhart wasn’t alone.
“Hi, baby,” he said from behind his desk. “Welcome.”
“Hi!” I stepped inside.
“You already know everyone, except for Eden,” Lockhart said.
Two other faces were staring back at me. Walker, who I’d originally met at Charred, and Colson, who I’d met at Musik.
“Nice to see you guys.” I gave them a smile and a wave, and I approached Lockhart’s sister, extending my hand. “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Eden.”
“And you.” She offered a smile, but it wasn’t nearly as large as mine, like she was holding part of it back.
I hadn’t been surprised when Lockhart told me he’d gone to her for help, figuring out if I was Dear Foodie or not. But I had been surprised to hear she was a vault. Every woman had a weakness. Mine was Bryn. She knew everything. Maybe Eden’s weakness was Lockhart. Or maybe she was a unicorn, and she truly didn’t have one.
If that was the case, I was even more intrigued by her.
“I’ve heard endless things about you,” I said. “I’m really looking forward to getting to know you.” I winked at Lockhart. “Considering you are his favorite.”
Her blue eyes shifted to Lockhart, a color so vibrant that it was unique and striking. “Your favorite? Now, I would have thought Beck held that title.”
A quick glance told me Lockhart was putting his hands in the air, holding them by his face, but I was more focused on Eden. She was stunning, from her dark hair—a vast contrast to the blonde I had found on Instagram who I thought was her—to her sensual lips to her petiteness. Women would strive to look as beautiful as her.
But what was drawing me in was her demeanor. She had this magnetism about her that you almost couldn’t look away from. And if you did, you were afraid you’d miss something. Something that would hint at what was going on inside her. Lockhart had told me she was closed off, and I couldfeel that. Nothing seemed random about Eden—what came out of her mouth, how her body moved, the deepness of her stare. Everything was for a reason, and everything was calculated.
While she laughed at Colson, who was now teasing Lockhart, I moved around to the back side of his desk and set the Tupperware on top.
