Page 161 of The Playboy

I pushed my chair back, double-checking the office number I needed to go to—which was office number four—and I closed my door on the way out. As the elevator opened, I smiled at the people I joined inside and hit the button for the executive-level floor.

There was a receptionist at a desk as soon as I stepped out, her eyes greeting mine as I walked up to her.

“I have an eight o’clock meeting,” I told her. “My name’s Brooklyn Bray.”

She glanced at her computer. “Ah, yes, I have you right here.” She lifted a phone off her desk. “Give me one sec.” She held it against her ear, staring at me as she said into the receiver, “Ms. Brooklyn Bray is here to see you.” She smiled. “Perfect. I’ll bring her right down.” She hung up and stood from her desk. “I’m Kathleen, by the way.”

I shook her hand. “Brooklyn, but you already know that.” I laughed.

She made the same sound and said, “Yes, please follow me.”

She waited for me at the side of her desk and waved a key card against the wall, which opened a set of double doors. I followed her through them, and we went down a long, wide hallway decorated in large, framed photos of what appeared to be all the different Spade Hotels located around the world.

Somehow, someway, I would be affiliated with all of them.

Breathe, Brooklyn. Breathe.

“How’s your day going?” she asked.

I didn’t want to tell her how much of a mess I felt, so I replied, “I’ve only been here for a few minutes. It’s my first day. But those few minutes have been great.”

She laughed. “Well, welcome. I just had my eighth anniversary of working here, and this is the best job I’ve ever had. I think you’re going to love it.”

I grinned. “I think you’re right.”

She began to slow as we neared the corner of the building, and she came to a stop directly outside a door labeled number four.

“We’re here. Have a good meeting, Brooklyn.”

“Thank you. It was so nice to meet you, Kathleen.”

As soon as she was gone, I took a deep breath and raised my hand, holding it inches away from the door, attempting to calm my nerves before I gave it a solid knock.

Which I did a few seconds later.

“Come in,” I heard a male’s voice say from the other side.

Whenever I brought up my boss or team to Macon, he rarely commented. He also never told me who my manager was going to be, and I never pushed him for a response. I figured, if he wanted to talk about it, he would.

But that made me wonder why he hadn’t.

Was he trying to let me form my own opinion of the person and not persuade me with his?

I wasn’t sure, but I planned on asking him tonight.

I carefully wrapped my fingers around the doorknob, twisted it, and pushed the door. As it slowly opened, tiny bits of the office were revealed. The rich carpet and wallpaper, the sections of shelves, the wooden desk, the edge of a dark suit and—

I froze as I connected eyes with the face staring back at me.

The face that was all too familiar.

The face that I had kissed this morning.

The face that was devouring me as I stood here, shocked and paralyzed.

“Macon”—I caught my breath—“I don’t know why Kathleen brought me here. There must be some kind of mix-up. I’ll just go back and tell her to take me to my manager’s office.”

He stood from his desk and walked over to me, extending his hand the second he reached me. “Macon Spade. It’s nice to meet you.”

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