Wicked Torture (Stark World 3)

She tilts her head as she pulls down her computer glasses, then looks over the frames and smiles at me. "Morning. I think we're all set."

"And that's why I adore you," I say. Maia's worked with me for a while now, and since I realized I'd do pretty much anything to keep her, I offered her a partnership a few months ago, which she eagerly accepted. She's six years younger than me, and I hired her while she was still working toward her MBA, then covered her last semester's tuition because I wanted her on my team. She's ridiculously hard-working and has some of the most original ideas I've ever heard.

She's also ambitious and as keen as I am at building Crown Consulting into a kick-ass operation. Plus, she's no dummy, and she knows that her partnership coupled with me doubling up on my music career, means her trajectory here is pretty much a straight path to the top.

Most important, though, we work well together, she's got a wicked sense of humor, and we share a secret love of bad reality television and peanut butter M&Ms.

"Mr. Carter assigned all the offices on this hall to your team," the receptionist says to both of us. "I took the liberty of selecting the corner offices for the two of you," she adds. "Your name plates are on the doors. I'm Elise, by the way. Let me know if you need any help getting settled. You're expecting five more for this morning's meeting?"

"From our team," Maia says, standing up to hand Elise a list of names. "And then the in-house folks?" She says the last as a question, looking at me.

"Our people at eight," I say. "Noah and the Stark marketing people at ten. That gives us two hours to make sure our team is up to speed and the plan is perfect. Once the Stark folks are in the room, I want to hit the ground running. With the truncated time frame, we don't have the luxury of wasting minutes."

"Right-o," Maia says, as I turn back to Elise.

"Thanks again, and just send everyone this way when they arrive."

Elise promises to do that, and Maia and I dive into work, with me pulling a chair over so that I can see her screen as we make final tweaks on the presentation.

We've been going at it for over half an hour when there's a light tap at the door. I look up, see Noah, and my heart skitters in my chest.

At my interview, I'd been too nervous to pay attention to what he'd been wearing. Now, though . . .

Well, now, all I can think is wow.

/> He's in a gray pinstriped suit with a shirt of such pale blue it's almost silver. His tie, a dark blue with gunmetal gray stripes, accentuates the outfit, which was clearly tailored, not to mention expensive.

But it's not the suit, but the way Noah wears it that has my mouth going dry. This is a Noah I've only seen hints of; this is the Noah who runs this entire operation. And if the look of confidence on his face is any indication, he does it exceptionally well.

"Good morning," he says, his eyes lingering on me for a second too long before he turns his attention to Maia. "I'm Noah Carter," he says, walking toward her and extending his hand. "You must be Maia Hancock."

"Nice to meet you," Maia says. "We weren't expecting you until ten, but if you want us to run you through it now, we're ready."

"I have no doubt. But actually, I need to talk to you," he says, turning toward me. A ball of irritation forms in my stomach, and I force myself to manage a civil smile.

"Sure. Let's step outside." I start that direction, barely noticing the way his brow furrows as I pass him. He's right behind me, and I shut the door. Then, for good measure, I drag him into the empty office across the hall. I want privacy before I lay into him.

"What the hell are you doing?" I say, my voice low, but tight. Even with the door closed, we could be overheard. "The last thing I want is for folks to know that there's something going on with us." I've already told Maia we have a history, but I also told her that it was all very much in the past.

His brows rise, and he looks like he's about to laugh. Which, of course, only makes me more annoyed.

"What am I doing? I was introducing myself to your colleague. Who, according to the resume on your website, seems extremely competent. What makes you think I was doing anything more?"

"You smiled at me," I say, and the moment the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Clearly, I'm an idiot.

"I'll make sure not to do that again," he says dryly.

"And you said you needed to talk to me. Alone. Why would you need to do that?"

"I didn't," he says. "You assumed it." He takes a step closer, and I wish he'd back up. He's making it even harder to think straight.

"But since we're here," he says, "I'll say that I enjoyed Saturday very much. And it took a lot of willpower not to call you yesterday and invite you out for a walk around the lake."

"Oh. Well. I was working." My voice is level, but I fight to hide the surprising little twinge of disappointment that I'd missed out on seeing him. I quash it down. "What did you need to talk about this morning?"

"I'm going to tell the whole team, but I wanted to give you a heads up about possible corporate espionage."

"Great," I say ironically after he tells me the details of his conversation with Mr. Stark. "Hopefully, we're not a target, and it's just limited to the Israeli company we're racing to the finish line."