2
Barrett
She’d spent the entire weekend at my apartment in the Upper West Side, and I didn’t want her to leave. We’d lived between the sheets most of the time, only leaving for food and water. But on the short ride from my apartment to her parents’ house on Park Avenue, she was mouse quiet.
Maybe I made a mistake. I asked Lourde to move in with me this morning over breakfast, and she declined, saying one step at a time.
Had I freaked her out with the whole move-in question? Was it so weird to think she’d want to actually move in with me? I shook my head. Jesus, fuck, what was I thinking? She was right. We hadn’t even told Connor yet.
I pulled up to the front of the house and killed the engine of my McLaren GT.
“The weekend was magical,” she said in a soft whisper I’d only just heard.
“It was. Thanks for taking a chance on me, Lourde. I’m not perfect, but I know everything makes sense with you in my life.”
“I miss you already.” Leaning in, she planted her lips on mine in a kiss that I didn’t want to end. My hand wrapped around the nape of her neck, squeezing her closer. She groaned in my mouth, and my dick responded, swelling in the seam of my pants.
She pulled away and smirked, her pupils dilated. A dark and wanting need filled me as it did her.
“Don’t go,” I said, clearing my sandpaper voice.
“I have to. We don’t want anyone asking questions.”
“Fuck their questions,” I said, wanting to taste her again. I wanted to wake to her soft breath on my pillow, the rise and fall of her chest on mine. “Meet me for lunch tomorrow?”
She smiled and something stirred inside of my chest.
“Okay.”
“My office at one?”
“But people will know.”
“All they know is that you’re Lourde Diamond, Connor’s sister, who they know is my friend.”
She mulled it over for way too long, and each second that ticked by, the hammering in my chest grew louder. What the fuck was that?
“I’ll see you there.”
And with that, I planted another kiss on her swollen lips. Suddenly, she pulled away a blush dusted her cheeks.
“I should go.”
“You should go,” I echoed.
And she exited the car with an impossibly beautiful grin on her creamy and blushed complexion.
* * *
I checked the gunmetal gray clock face of my Cartier watch. It was nearing one o’clock. Lourde would be here any moment, so wrapping this meeting up with the department heads was a priority. It had been a clusterfuck of a morning with detectives and a brewing media storm out front of the building, but I didn't care. I was riding on the high-tide that was Lourde.
“Olivia, do we know why Jessica resigned without notice?”
“No idea. I tried calling her, but she hasn’t returned any of my phone calls.”
“That’s odd. Can anyone shed any light on why she may have quit so suddenly?”
I looked around at the four other faces looking hungover as fuck.
“No idea,” Tobias, my logistical manager, said.
“Same here, although I saw her come out of the women’s bathrooms last week with tears in her eyes,” Sam, my head of construction, volunteered.
I looked over at Ivy, my media director. Maybe she knew what was going on. After all, she knew most things around here. “No idea, I barely knew her.”
Great.
“She was managing the interior decorating installation in the townhouses in Brooklyn. Now, I have all of that on top of what’s already on my plate,” Olivia said.
“Can you still finish it on time?”
“I don’t know.” Olivia shook her head, and I knew she was being brutally honest. Olivia was one of my hardest-working and loyal employees, but even she had her limits.
“It has to be. I have the new owners moving in two weeks.” Tobias let out a huff.
Something pulled my attention from my team and to my left, past the glass-framed boardroom toward the reception desk.
Dressed in a cinched violet dress offset by her silky cream skin and brown shoulder-length hair, Lourde stole the breath from my lungs.
“Thanks, everyone,” I said, casting my eyes back to the table. “We'll work it out, Olivia.”
Ivy stood, gathering her laptop. “Barrett, we still need to address the media about the fire at 21 Park.”
“There’s nothing to say until we hear more from the engineers.”
She mumbled something inaudible.
“Just draft something for me to look at,” I said.
“Do they suspect arson?” Olivia asked.
“It appears so. The detectives aren’t giving too much away, as usual,” I added. Vivid memories of the detectives hovering over my dead mother flooded into view, and I pushed them away as soon as they surfaced. Having them at the house brought all that up again, but with Lourde by my side, my discomfort melted away.
Olivia side-eyed me, fumbling with her folders. If I didn’t know any better, she wanted to talk to me without the prying ears of her colleagues.
After Ivy, Tobias, and Sam walked out the door, she lifted her head. Knew it.
“Is that Lourde Diamond in reception?”
I glanced over to reception like I hadn't noticed her as soon as she walked in. “I guess it is.”
“What is she doing here?” She popped up an accusatory, heavily plucked eyebrow.
“We’re friends.”
“You don’t have any female friends.”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Olivia, I think you have loads to do, don’t you?”
“Maybe she wants a job. I’m sure she’d know about prestige interiors,” she muttered while collecting the last of her things.
“Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”
“You’re serious?” Olivia stared at me while I mulled it over.
She’d been wanting to work but couldn't because her parents wouldn't let her—Diamond women never worked. Literally up until last week when her father, Alfred, changed his mind, she hadn't worked a day in her life. Maybe this could be the opportunity she might be after. The timing couldn't have been better.
“Absolutely. Who do we know who can cover you on short notice? She’s a friend. I’m sure she’d love to help.”
“Well, that would be amazing. I’m already working sixteen-hour days as it is, and with Jessica throwing in the towel, I’m up to my ears in work with the handover of the Brooklyn townhouses.”
“Well, I can only ask,” I said, not promising anything. Lourde probably wouldn’t even consider it, but it was worth a try.
“Who can say no to Barrett Black?”
“You, all the damn time, Olivia.”
“You pay me to say no! Anyway, you’re like a brother to me. Someone has to withstand the charming effects you have on women.” She put her fingers in her mouth like she was going to gag.
I chuckled out a laugh and stood, not wanting to leave Lourde waiting any longer. As I walked toward the foyer, Lourde sat admiring the three-dimensional miniature building of 21 Park, the tower my company, ZF Construction, recently sold to a Russian billionaire. She stood up when she saw me and smoothed down her dress. I felt the weight of the stare from the woman behind the reception desk.
There was something so real and hot about Lourde standing in my foyer—I wanted to take her here and now.
“Lourde, so nice to see you.” I turned to find four sets of women’s eyes were on me.