Deliciously Damaged (Reckless Bastards MC 3)

It wasn’t just that she was gorgeous…although, she was. It was something else though, some shift of energy.

I raked my hand over my face. Damn, Brighton, you’re really losing it.

As I continued my walk, I decided that it was officially time to put myself on a sabbatical from the opposite sex. My constant prowling was getting to me and making me crazy. I didn’t want to turn into one of those sex addicts. One of my father’s associates had been that way—it had cost him big. He’d lost his marriage, his kids, and most of his money. Not to mention the respect of those around him.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and kept walking. Eventually, I was back in more familiar territory, closer to my office building. I took a left turn and decided to stop in one of my favorite bakeries to get my coffee.

Twenty minutes later, I was halfway through a large cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll.

“Everything okay, Mr. Cooper?” The owner, Helen, asked me. I’d been frequenting her shop over the past few months. I always left a generous tip and she had learned my name and usual order very quickly—although I had a feeling she was just that way, and that it had nothing to do with the money. Either way, her friendly, almost maternal nature was much appreciated. Especially on a morning like this, where I felt completely unnerved.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Helen.” I took another gulp of the hot coffee, as if to prove my point to her.

She nodded, but her eyes considered me skeptically. “What has you up so early on a Saturday?”

I smiled politely. “Work,” I lied.

She sighed. “Mr. Cooper, you’re too young to work so much. You’re too stressed out. Every time I see you, it gets worse. I can tell.”

She scolded me like a mother and I wondered what I’d done to earn her affection.

I smiled up at her, letting her know her concern was appreciated. “I’ll be all right,” I said.

Truthfully, I wholeheartedly agreed with her, but there was virtually nothing I could do about it. At least, not until things at Brighton Enterprises were more on track.

“Take care of yourself,” she said. She set a bag on the table next to me. I peeked inside and noticed she had packed me a sandwich and an extra cinnamon bun to go. She winked at me and walked away to tend to her other customers before I could object.

The gesture was sweet, but made me feel even more like a hopeless clusterfuck.

Chapter Six

“Mr. Brighton?” Kimberly was knocking on my door as she spoke.

I looked up but she refused to meet my eyes. Things had been weird ever since she had tried to seduce me in my office, over a week ago.

“Yes?” I said, grumpy at the interruption, and even more irritated that she wasn’t acting normal around me.

“Mr. Lee is here to see you. He says it’s urgent. I told him he needed an app—”

Before she could even finish, Parker Lee, the head of the Plush branch of Brighton Enterprises, stormed past her and stalked over to my desk. I stood and buttoned my jacket before dismissing Kimberly with a wave of my hand. She disappeared and I turned my gaze to Parker. He was a bit of a hot head, especially when under stress— which he currently was, due to the tight deadlines for the new fragrance launch.

“Parker, what can I do for you?”

“Have you seen these?” He tossed a folder down on my desk. My hands fisted together at his behavior. I’d been on edge for the past week and could feel myself sliding closer to the edge of my tether every day. I didn’t need anyone to push me…and that’s exactly what Parker was doing.

It took a lot of strength, but I kept my face neutral and released my fists. I picked up the folder and flipped open the cover. The pictures inside were of the new fragrance line.

The images were bad. The lighting, or something, was off and it made the bottles look a completely different color than they were in person.

I resisted the urge to yell.

“Are these from Spotlight?” I asked.

“Yes. What the fuck is going on over there?” Parker started pacing in front of my desk. “It’s been a nightmare ever since that Rita woman took over the design department.”

I nodded in agreement. My father had been contracted with Spotlight, an upscale ad agency, for over a decade. When I’d taken over the company, I’d assessed their past work and decided to continue the contracts. However, a lot had changed since then, and the quality had been slipping downhill at a rather startling pace.

“I’ll handle this,” I said. I shuffled the images together and enclosed them back in the folder. “How is everything else?”