Page 22 of Seducing Hope (The Hope Legacy)

Barbie struts toward us, wearing a small scowl. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Waterford. Mr. Reinheart forgot to put it on the calendar. He’s waiting for you.” She indicates to—yes, you guessed it—another “Man in Black.”

A six-foot-two hulk of a man with dark wavy hair beams at me and sweeps out his hand. “Your carriage awaits, Miss Waterford.”

I blink—they speak! He leads me to the small elevator I rode in yesterday; I add crossed toes to my fingers that we’re not going to the rooftop. He leans across me and presses the button for the seventy-third floor. My stomach drops with the acceleration. Checking my mental shields, I’m happy the background melody is doing its job. No need to bring out the big guns yet.

I’m about to turn to the man, when he holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Waterford. I’m Zac.” I stare into his stormy blue eyes and grasp his hand. It’s warm like Archan’s but has a different buzz of power—it’s not as strong, but still packs a punch. Feeling a firm tug on my shields, I manage to keep my smile in place and study his aura. It’s gold mixed with ink and constantly moving. Who are these people?

“It’s lovely to meet you also,” I say, as the elevator doors open, revealing Archan with his hands in his pants pockets, his expression neutral. Letting go of Zac’s hand, I step out of the elevator and turn around. My mouth turns up. “Thank you, Zac. Please call me Natia.” I couldn’t help myself. Archan stiffens just a little.

The elevator doors close behind me. I can’t go down the hallway any further, as Archan is standing less than a foot away from me, and I refuse to back into the wall. His unnatural warmth and scent envelop me. He’s dressed in black slacks and a crisp, white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to show muscular arms and a dusting of hair; the first few buttons at the top of his shirt are undone, revealing smooth, tanned skin and the hint of a tattoo. His damp hair curls at the base of his neck. My fingers twitch as I imagine running my hands through it…

Grr, concentrate, Natia!

Looking down to compose myself, I grin. He’s barefoot which, for some reason, is really entertaining. I raise my eyebrows, letting my eyes flick to his feet then back to his face. “You’re not ready for our breakfast meeting, Archan?”

He moves to the side, indicating I should go ahead. “I am not aware we have one, Miss Waterford.”

He sounds amused. Good. I need to not piss him off—too much. His footsteps sound close behind me, making me feel like I’m being stalked. The hallway opens up to reveal a large open-plan area with a huge kitchen, dining, and living area. I stop to take in the room.

He sidesteps me. “I am afraid you will have to put up with my cooking; I was about to make an omelet.” He pulls out ingredients from the well-stocked refrigerator and pours two glasses of orange juice, placing them on the solid wood breakfast bar, which curves around the kitchen.

“Do you have coffee?”

“Of course,” he answers, as if it’s a stupid question.

“Is it caffeinated?”

He smiles a genuine smile; it reaches his eyes, which sparkle with amusement. I almost stumble. That look should not be allowed on a human being—wait, he’s not human. It still shouldn’t be allowed. “Yes, Miss Waterford, it is.”

I distract myself by studying the room more closely. Warm oak floors match the kitchen, and soft lighting is recessed into the floor. Six mismatched maroon chairs surround a circular table, with three orb light fixtures hanging from the ceiling at different levels over its center. A pale taupe rug sits in the middle of a sunken sitting room, accompanied by three large wine-colored sofas surrounding an oak coffee table. Paintings line the walls, none of which I associate with “skyscraper living.” Natural light floods the room from the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the far wall. The overall effect is one of warmth and comfort. Spying a set of double doors to the right of the room, I wonder if it’s his office.

I stroll toward one of the breakfast bar stools.

He rounds the bar, moving behind me. “I’ll take your coat.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Here we go with the demands, not requests. He brushes my neck with his hand as he lifts my coat. I’ve readied myself for his games, which seem to include driving me crazy with small touches. However, my shields need a boost… let’s see—“U Can’t Touch This” by MC Hammer. Classic and appropriate.

He returns from wherever he disappeared to put my coat. “You look radiant today.” Spinning around to face him, I catch his gaze at my ass before he raises it to my face, looking unrepentant. Today, I’ve chosen a knee-length navy pencil skirt and a wrap-around white blouse. Zee’s memorized the underwear that coordinates with each outfit, telling me, “the lace underwear contrasts beautifully with my tan skin.” I’ve kept my grandma’s diamond studs but added a pearl drop necklace, and my hair sits in a simple French twist.

I blush and sit on the stool as he goes back to cooking. “Thank you.”

Chef gadgets galore line the kitchen surfaces. I’d say it’s for show, except he seems at home in the kitchen. The brewing pot of coffee fills the air with its divine smell as Archan chops the various ingredients, his back to me. Mesmerized by the flex of his arms and shoulders, I almost miss his question. “Why do I have the pleasure of your company this morning?”

Clasping my hands in front of me on the breakfast bar, I lean forward. “You wanted to discuss the meetings beforehand. I assumed I needed to come early to talk to you.”

The frying pan sizzles, and the smell of peppers and onions fills the room. “I thought you have this handled?”

Time to stroke his ego—not my natural ability. In my opinion, either you deserve the praise or you don’t.

“If you can spare me some time, maybe I can contribute more to the merger?” There, not a blank check to tell me what to do, but an “I’ll listen to your opinion, buddy.” He goes quiet while beating the egg mixture in the pan. Finished, he turns and leans over the breakfast bar toward me,leaving barely a foot between us.

He studies me with an unwavering focus. “Is that so?”

My mouth goes dry. I need a yard stick to keep this man at a safe distance. I sip my orange juice to hide my reaction.

Looking pleased he’s unbalanced me, he pours my coffee and hands it to me. “Which part would you like to discuss?”

“I’m assuming the team will focus on strengths and weaknesses today, as that often leads to the opportunities and threats—”

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