Page 9 of The Playboy Project

I got it. Young. Handsome. Ungodly wealthy. The world at his feet. No wonder he ran a bit wild.

And of course, he was still beautiful. The suit of the day was incredibly similar to the one he’d worn before when we met, at the gala. Every inch clung to his body like a lover’s caress. I’d forgotten how tall my heels must’ve been that night. Because suddenly, he loomed much larger than I remembered.

I gulped, refusing to be intimidated. He was taller than me by at least a half foot, and I felt every one of those inches as he tilted his head and approached me.

Goosebumps peppered my skin as the CEO moved effortlessly toward me. He stopped only when he was towering over me, staring down at me with an irritating smirk across his full lips. His perfectly shaven cheeks, complete with cheekbones that could double as ramps, stared down at me. A dimple peeked out as he settled a comfortable smirk across his lips and directed his eyes my way.

They were like molten silver.

The bone structure. The quirk of those beautiful lips.

This was the person I needed to turn into a nun.

God help me and send me the willpower to keep my knees from shaking and my mind from reeling. If I could get through this entire meeting without melting into a delighted puddle on his perfectly polished wingtips, then I could consider step one a great success.

I could practically feel the eyes of all his colleague buddies behind him, staring at this nobody who’d come charging in.

Men should not be able to be this pretty, I thought desperately. Especially not players like this one. It made it quite difficult to be mad at them, and I could see clearly why this man was constantly all over social media with girls in short dresses climbing him like a tree.

Nevertheless, I slammed my hand against his chest, blocking him from moving away, from moving through me, as it seemed he was about to do.

“Mr. Macklen, my name is Ashlyn Grove. I believe we have an appointment.”

Those perfectly sculpted dark brows arched. Slate blue-gray eyes sparkled as they met mine in a challenging stare.

“Right now,” I added firmly. Take that, playboy.

“You and me? Right now?” His voice was deep, rumbling. I felt every vibrating note in his words. Making a stark, nearly painful grip of desire sweep over my body.

My stomach clenched, but I didn’t dare drop my gaze from his, locked in some kind of battle of wits. I wanted it more, I was sure. I narrowed my eyes, making sure he felt every one of those minutes I’d stressed in my car.

Besides, I deserved the same treatment as any of his other meetings, even if his secretary was glaring daggers. Curling my toes in my plain black pointy-toed heels, I leaned into my fingers, putting additional pressure on the hard wall of his chest.

“Yes, Mr. Macklen.” My other hand twitched, longing to tug at the edge of my skirt. It hadn’t felt this short when I left the house. “We had a meeting, and I’m not leaving until I have a chance to speak to you privately.”

A silver-headed man next to my client coughed into his fist. “Sounds like you are tied up, Liam. We should go.”

Liam nodded, a jerky move of his chin that I didn’t dare pay too much attention to. If I did, I was sure to get distracted by the way the muscles of his neck moved and flexed.

My mouth was suddenly painfully dry, and I would’ve sold my soul for a cold beverage.

Licking my lips, I waited. Like shadows, the remaining men filtered away from us, leaving me standing alone. Slowly I let my hand fall from where it had been pressing into his chest. Some horrible, evil part of my body reveled in the smooth planes of muscles that I had felt under his shirt as I pulled away. I couldn’t stop the hot blush that colored my cheeks.

He looked at me quizzically, his brows still raised. Without breaking eye contact, he swiveled his body to clear a path to his office.

“I believe we have a meeting, Ms. Grove. Your idea, not mine.” His voice was deadpan, soft. But I could see the twinkle of amusement in his gaze.

I would not be charmed. I narrowed my eyes, taking in the beautifully tailored suit, the sweeping arm that he gestured me forward with. What others took as charm or cunning, I knew it to be general assholery. After all, I’d seen the files.

I had started my career catering to Hollywood wannabes who expected that kind of attention from me. It’d been my deepest pleasure to make sure I never gave it to them.

Liam Macklen would be no different. Just another assignment. I stepped past the troop of suits as they moved away, my chin jerked high and proud. I wouldn’t be looked down on. Even in my faded black suit jacket, the same pointy-toed heels I’d been wearing for years, and begging at this stupidly handsome man’s door in order to keep my family’s legacy alive. Shame swirled in my gut, even as I leveled my eyes to his office, pointedly looking away from him as I marched in.

I took a deep breath, the familiar smells of these types of offices bombarding my nose. A subtle, spicy cologne and the unmistakable smell of freshly laundered shirts. Unless I was mistaken, one of the several doors situated around the edge of the large office would lead to a closet, the other directly to the boardroom.

I let my gaze dash around the room, taking in the high-end finishes, the soft ticking of a clock situated on a bookcase in one corner.

“Now that you have me alone, whatever can I do for you?”

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