Page 19 of The Charmer's Gambit
I barely registered his murmur over the tribunal going on in my head. Talk about unprofessional. First the odd moment in his room yesterday, then me falling asleep in the middle of reading up on his merger, and now this? I bit my lip and shook my head. This could be the biggest moment of my career, and I was well on my way to blowing it.
The curse word caught between my teeth as Will reentered the room. His expression said he knew what I’d been about to say and that he wanted to laugh but refrained. “Here.” He handed me a glass of orange juice, making my nose wrinkle. “Trust me. It’ll help.”
“What a mess,” I whispered, more to myself than to him, and took a drink. The thick pulp told me it was freshly squeezed, and yeah, it felt heavenly against my throat. I finished half of it before saying, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he replied. “Feel free to use the bathroom to freshen up. We can swing by your place on the way to the office so you can change.”
I winced. “Nothing like doing the walk of shame with a client.”
“No shame here.” His chocolate gaze snagged mine and held. “I suspect we’ll be pulling a lot of long nights together over the next month or two, Miss Dawson. And I’m looking forward to every minute.” With that suggestive statement hanging between us, he turned and softly closed the door behind him.
7
A Done Deal
None of my previous hotel rooms came equipped with the amenities I found in Will’s en-suite bathroom. Toiletries were typical, but the variety of hair brushes and dental supplies were not. I took advantage of them and fully showered and groomed myself before re-dressing in my skirt suit. It helped me feel somewhat human again and also granted me the time I needed to gather my bearings.
At least until I stepped in the living area and found Will chatting with a dark-haired man of similar height and stature. His crisp suit screamed elegance and wealth, as well as good taste. It clung to his torso, tapered at his waist, and highlighted the strength of his thighs. His cuff links winked in the light, platinum, not gold, and his grin was all arrogance.
“Miss Dawson,” he greeted.
His suave tones sent a chill of familiarity down my spine. One late night of endless debate left him unforgettable. “Mister Wilkinson.”
His striking blue eyes held a hint of menace that made my pulse race, but when he held out his hand, I reciprocated. His firm grip screamed dominance, but it wasn’t bone-crushing orcruel. Just an alpha confirming his presence. When I returned the gesture subtly, his lips curled and he flashed a look at Will that was too quick for me to read. Approval, maybe?
“Nice to finally meet you,” he murmured as he dropped my hand. “Will tells me we’re stopping by your place on the way to the office?”
The knowing way he said it made me cringe. “Yes, or you both can head to the office and I can meet you there.”
Garrett glanced at his watch. “No, we have time.”
I frowned. “When is your meeting?”
His responding smile hinted at his nickname.The Devil indeed. “Oh, sweetheart, the tricks I could teach you . . .”
“We don’t have a meeting time,” Will elaborated, amused. “Garrett prefers the element of surprise.”
“Which you just ruined.”
“Rachel won’t say anything.”
I cocked an eyebrow as some of my personality returned. “Do you speak for me now?” What was with rich men and constantly throwing me off my game?
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Will replied as he hefted my bag over his shoulder. I hadn’t even noticed it sitting beside him on the table. “But as I have your laptop and phone,” he continued, “I feel rather confident in my assessment.”
My jaw unhinged. “Some would call that stealing.”
“I call it safeguarding. Shall we?”
I parted my lips to argue, but the fight left me on my next breath. I didn’t want my phone back. Not after last night. Ryan always chose random times to reach out to me, but something about his approach was different this time. It felt more urgent, which concerned me. Desperation made him even more dangerous, and I couldn’t afford for him to escalate his advances right now. Not when it was so clear I still lacked a backbone around him.
“Rachel?” The concern etching Will’s brow was the last thing I needed.
“For the record, I’m only letting you hold on to my stuff because I don’t feel like carrying it.” The snarky tone felt forced to my ears but seemed to appease him enough to smooth the lines on his forehead.
“Whatever you say, Miss Dawson.”
“Can I get a recording of that?” Because those words would definitely come in handy over the next few weeks.
