Cruel (The Buck Boys Heroes 2)

I have to shake that image from my mind so I can get down to business. That would be the business of this interview that is going to vault my career to where I want it to be.

I suck in a deep breath and look at him. He’s wearing a black suit, shirt and tie. It might look morbid if he didn’t have such beautiful blue eyes.

“That question helps me understand what motivates you,” I explain.

“What motivates me is greed.”

“Do you want me to put that in the article? Or should it be in the headline?”

“No one would be surprised by the notion that greed motivates me,” he says with a straight face. “It motivates most people who are worth…”

“Billions of dollars.” I roll my hand in the air. “You’re not a cookie-cutter billionaire.”

That lures a smile to his lips. “What is a cookie-cutter billionaire, Juliet?”

“You know the type.” I lean back in my chair to cross my legs. “They’re arrogant. They flash their wealth around. They have people waiting on them hand and foot. They bark out orders.”

He taps a finger against the armrest of the chair as he listens.

“They’ve never cooked a meal for themselves. They’ve never flown commercial in their lives.” I turn to look at him with a finger raised in the air. “Oh, wait. You are a cookie-cutter billionaire.”

Amusement flits across his expression. “Is that how you view me?”

I think about that for a second. “No.”

That’s enough to pull another question out of him. “How do you view me, Juliet?”

“Honestly?”

He shifts in his chair. “Of course.”

I look toward the open door of my office. “I view you as someone who is misunderstood. I think you’re buried beneath something that borders on guilt but also edges pain. I believe that circumstances beyond your control formed this persona that you’ve had to carry with you for years.”

His eyes hold tight to mine.

“The business is part of who you are, but it’s not the whole of who you are.” I keep going since he has yet to stop me. “I think that you’re punishing yourself by sacrificing your chance at a fulfilling life because of someone else’s lost life.”

“My father?” he bites those two words out in a sharp tone. “Are you referring to him?”

Never breaking his gaze, I nod. “Yes.”

He reaches forward to snatch my hand. He holds it tightly in his. “I warned you not to go there.”

“Or what?”

“Drop it, Juliet.”

I don’t try and tug my hand free. I soften my stance, showing him that I’m not afraid. I refuse to be intimated by him.

“Creating a prison for yourself won’t bring him back, Kavan.”

“Stop!” His voice comes out curt with frustration lacing the tone.

“That’s what you’ve done here.” I swoop my free hand toward the doorway. “You live in a prison of your making. Don’t you want to be free?”

Abruptly he stands and drops my hand. “Go home, Juliet.”

I stand too. “No.”

His eyes bore into mine. “You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Squaring my shoulders, I reach out to rest a hand on his chest. “I promise that if you let it all out, there’s freedom on the other side of it.”

He wraps a hand around my wrist. “I told you to stop talking.”

“Make me,” I say in a childish way meant to taunt him.

“I will,” he growls before he tugs me closer, cups a hand around the back of my head, and seals his mouth over mine.

Chapter Thirty

Juliet

My hands jump up to grip the lapels of his jacket as he takes control of the kiss, tilting my head more.

He grinds against me with a groan spilling out from somewhere deep inside of him. I press closer, my lips, my body, all of me wanting to touch all of him.

His hand trails down my back to my ass. He holds me against him, against the outline of his swollen cock.

Suddenly, he breaks the kiss. His eyes wide with wonder, or maybe shock, he steps back. “Fuck, Juliet.”

Yes, I want to. I want to fuck. Without thinking it through. With wild abandon.

Those words sit on my lips unsaid as he stares at me, through me, into the deepest recesses of my soul that no one has ever seen.

My lips quiver because there’s an unspoken confession there I want him to hear.

I want this man to know my truth and I can’t explain why I feel that.

Something inside of him speaks to me.

His eyes search my face.

With parted lips he lets out a heavy exhale. “I have a meeting.”

The words hit as hard as a gut punch.

“Now?”

“Now,” he repeats with conviction. “We’ll continue this later…the interview later, but stay on topic.”

How can he go from kissing me like that to slipping back into the buttoned up, uncaring businessman?

I felt need in that kiss, and a desire so strong that I thought he might tear my clothes off on the spot.