“I am too,” I say honestly.
I deserve to have some fun, especially since I’ll be spending at least part of my day with moody Mr. Bane.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kavan
“Is there anything else you need before I leave, Mr. Bane?”
I turn to see Nigel standing in the doorway of my office. It’s nearing seven. I had a busy afternoon of meetings via phone. Nigel sat in for some, and during others, he tended to work I had assigned him.
I beckon him into my office with a curl of my fingers. “Come and sit.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
Nigel never hesitates when I ask anything of him, even when it is unthinkable, as it was the night my father died.
Nigel rushed into the hotel room moments after my father took his last breath.
I was the calm one. Nigel was panicked, but he followed my directions, never questioning the whys. He just did what I asked. I’m sure back then, his loyalty was born from his bond with my father, but we’ve found a rhythm that works for us, or I thought we had.
After Nigel’s discussion with Juliet at lunch, I’m beginning to wonder how well I know him.
Once he’s seated in front of my desk, I cross my arms. “Did Ares know about the bird watching?”
Uncertainty stills his expression. His eyes widen. That’s a sure sign that Nigel’s having an internal debate.
I’ve seen it before, dozens of times, but that’s always been during a discussion about business.
“He introduced us to it.”
I stare at his face as those words sink in. “My father introduced you to bird watching?”
“He sent Golda and me on a honeymoon to Peru.” His gaze falls to his lap. “There was a park there that he had visited as a child. He bird watched with his own father during that trip.”
It’s almost too much to process at once.
Imagining my father in a park with a pair of binoculars strung around his neck is an image so outrageous that I can’t conjure it up.
“Back then, before you were born, he often spoke about how he’d take his children to that same park.”
That’s a blow because the only trips I took with my father were to destinations where he could expand his business holdings. That included jaunts to Europe, Australia, and cities all over the United States, including Miami on that fateful night.
“His business grew,” Nigel continues. “Personal trips fell to the wayside.”
Scrubbing a hand over the back of my neck, I let out a heavy exhale. “I didn’t know.”
“Ares was a different man after he found success.” His tone drops. “I often wished that things were…”
When his voice trails, I don’t push for more.
We sit in silence for a moment.
“Juliet is charming.” He taps a finger in the air. “Smart, insightful, and there’s her smile.”
There’s much more to her than that but I don’t go there, because Juliet Bardin is in my life for only one reason.
“Did you start the interview process today, sir?”
“She asked a few questions. I answered.”
“That is how interviews work.” He laughs.
Stoic, I look behind him to the doorway. Soon, I’ll choose a dinner menu that Nara will prepare.
I’m tempted to ask Nigel to join me, but I’ll be more comfortable with my own company tonight.
Today was jarring. It was unexpected.
Juliet Bardin has spun into my life like a whirlwind.
I need to find my bearings so that tomorrow, I can face the day with a clearer mind and focused intent to keep Juliet on topic.
“I brought pastries for everyone,” Juliet announces as she parades into the foyer of my penthouse dressed in white pants, a sheer black blouse, and red heels.
Jesus.
It’s a look that suits her, although the woman herself is stunning. An article of clothing doesn’t exist that could add anything to her beauty.
A sudden vision of what she must look like nude flashes through my mind.
I chase that away with a hard swallow.
“Do any of them have lemon filling?” Nigel asks as he peers into the now open pastry box.
“Of course.” Juliet glances at him. “Alcott told me lemon curd is your jam.”
Nigel tosses his head back in laughter. “I see what you did there. I prefer lemon curd on my toast as opposed to jam.”
What in the actual fuck is going on?
This is my home. It’s where I conduct business. It’s not a goddamn staff room where people can exchange recipes and sample each other’s pastries.
I have no idea if that is a thing, but Juliet Bardin is upending my routine in a way that I don’t want.
“Juliet,” I bark out her name.
That spins her around to face me. The black satin bra under her blouse is doing little to conceal the outline of her hardened nipples.
She pushes a strand of her hair back from her cheek. “Yes?”
I fist my hands at my sides in a desperate attempt to control what feels like need.