Maybe I should counteroffer. For what…I didn’t know. I wasn’t crazy about the nonspeaking security guard role and on principle, I objected to his son’s idea of hiring me to stay out of the way for six months. However, one was a paycheck and the other was a fuckton of money to do absolutely nothing. I could go home and visit my family for a month or two and maybe seriously consider a career change or—
“Can I offer you coffee, Mr. Mackay?”
I glanced over at Trish hovering near a high-tech coffee station tucked into an unobtrusive niche near Seb’s office door.
“Yes, please.” I wandered over and noticed the second door, flush with the shiny wood-paneled wall. “A private entrance?”
She tilted her chin and smiled. “Milk or sugar?”
Ah. Definitely a private something.
“Plain is good.” I thanked her, cradling my cup when she handed it over. “How long have I been here?”
“Almost an hour,” she replied, sliding behind her desk.
“And you haven’t kicked me out?”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
I snorted. “I’m pretty sure it’s your job to kick me out. But I wouldn’t have made it this far if your boss didn’t want to see me. Weird cat-and-mouse game, isn’t it? The longer I’m here, the more I wonder what he wants…even though I’m the one who showed up unannounced. People are screwy.”
Trish chuckled. “Now that is true.”
We shared a smile that I ruined when the devil himself walked in looking cool, calm, and extremely fuckable in a charcoal designer suit—like a GQ model sporting the latest in executive chic wear.
Me? I’d raced to Century City with a headful of steam and hadn’t taken the time to shave. Some guys could get away with that, but I was like a human Chia Pet after skipping one morning. My excuse was, I’d been too fired up and indignant. But now I felt like a bum.
I’d spent the last hour perusing personal photos and playing video games on my cell like a moody teenager waiting outside the principal’s office while Seb was somewhere in the real world, wheeling and dealing. The disparity in our wealth and position felt stronger than ever. At the bar, shadows, booze, and desire had acted as equalizers. Not here. Daylight stripped away any pretense and shone a bright light on reality. Sebastian Rourke was a powerful man who ruled the kingdom he’d created from scratch. I was nobody and he owed me nothing.
However, he looked genuinely pleased to see me.
But you know, I was me. And I got a little prickly when I felt uncomfortable. I set my coffee mug on Trish’s desk and extended my hand gruffly. “Seb.”
He shook my hand and beamed. “Good to see you again, Mackay.”
“Yeah, well—”
“C’mon in.” Seb hooked his thumb behind him. “We can talk in my office.”
“You have a conference call in forty-five minutes with finance, Mr. Rourke,” Trish announced.
He stopped in his tracks and frowned. “Oh. Right.”
“And a meeting at three p.m. Let me know if you’re having lunch in and what you’d like me to order.”
Seb peeked at his watch and gave Trish a thumbs-up, then headed into the main office, leaving me to follow.
And can I just say…wow.
Seb’s office was roughly the size of my apartment…with much better amenities—like high ceilings, tall windows, a desk that could double as a boat, a round glass conference table, and a ginormous screen affixed to a beautiful wood-paneled wall anchored by a viewing sofa. Lush rugs with soft colors and subtle patterns delineated the various sections and somehow tied the space together so it actually looked like what it was…the highly sophisticated executive office and inner chamber of a movie mogul.
I stopped in the middle of the room and gaped. “You like fancy shit, don’t ya?”
“Sometimes.” Seb shrugged his suit coat from his shoulders, draped it over a chair, and perched on the corner of his massive desk. “It’s just part of the business. Investors appreciate tangible signs of success.”
I nodded absently, forgetting my surroundings when he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the sleeves on his white oxford shirt, rolling them to his elbows in a casual attempt to get comfortable. Theoretically, there was nothing sexy about the maneuver, but my cock perked up and took notice with the kind of enthusiasm reserved for the opening reel of some naughty suit porn.
The hint of bare skin at his open collar, his strong forearms, and the crease of his trousers around his crotch…
I cleared my throat, willing my dick to calm the fuck down and my brain to focus. I was here for a reason.
“Right. Um…”
Seb observed me patiently, then trekked to the door and returned a moment later with his hands in his pockets, standing closer than I was ready for.
“What can I do for you, Trent?”
Fuck, that felt like a loaded question. And was it me, or was his voice huskier now? Was he looking at me the way he had the other night when I’d pushed his legs to his chest and fucked him till we both saw stars? Or was it something else?