I walk into work Monday half expecting someone to call me out on having sex with Rowan. It’s laughable how I’m acting as if I have a yellow sticker on my forehead proclaiming I did the dirty deed with my boss. It wouldn’t even matter if they did know. Dreamland doesn’t even have a non-fraternization policy. Although it’s discouraged for individuals to work within the same workspace, it’s not prohibited.
Not to mention, Rowan would never let something like sleeping together get in the way of his decisions. And the idea of him showing me preferential treatment has me wanting to work harder to show him what I’m capable of. To show myself and others that it doesn’t matter who I am when my ideas speak for themselves. At least I hope so.
Yet, even after creating a game plan, Monday is a complete bomb due to my fraying nerves. Rowan hasn’t even graced the warehouse with his presence yet and I’m already falling apart. This morning, I broke our communal coffee pot after someone asked me how my weekend went. And then, when someone mentioned Rowan’s name in the bathroom, I ended up dropping my phone in the toilet.
That one isn’t exactly my fault. Two Alpha team members were talking about Rowan in a very inappropriate way while washing their hands. My phone slipped straight out of my grasp and met its watery grave.
It’s safe to say by the time Rowan strolls into my cubicle looking fresh as a daisy later this afternoon, I’m fried. Absolutely positively done with the day.
“You haven’t been answering my texts.”
“Hello to you too.” I look up from my computer screen.
“You haven’t responded to my messages.” His voice is extra edgy, and I’m tempted to dance around at the idea of him worrying over me not answering him.
“Did you miss me?” I bat my lashes.
“No.” He answers too fast.
I grin. “It’s okay to admit your feelings. I’ll wait.” I turn my chair and face him.
“Just like you made me wait all day for a confirmation?”
Huh? “A confirmation?”
“Yes. I’m taking you out tomorrow night for a date.”
I laugh under my breath. “Don’t you think you should ask me first?”
“I don’t ask questions I know the answers to.”
“We need to work on your manners. They’re severely lacking.”
He steps into my space and bends down to whisper in my ear. “You weren’t complaining about politeness the other night.”
“Of course not. Every woman wants a gentleman in the streets and a beast in the sheets,” I whisper low enough so my cubicle mates don’t hear me.
His eyes glint as he takes a little bow. “Pardon my mistake then. Will you do me the honor of gracing me with your presence tomorrow evening for dinner and cocktails?”
“Emphasis on the cock?” I raise a brow.
Rowan drops his head back and laughs until I join him. It warms me from my head to my toes to see his eyes light up and his lips remain permanently upturned.
Which makes my next comment that much harder.
“I can’t go out with you tomorrow. We’re having a late team meeting to discuss a few loose ends on previous proposals tomorrow.”
“Good thing you have an in with your boss.”
“No way! That’s an abuse of power.”
“What’s the point of having all this power if I don’t use it?”
I blink at him. “I’m going to pretend you did not just say that.”
“Pretend all you want. It doesn’t change the outcome.”
“But—”
He raises a brow. “Either you message Jenny or I will.”
I glare at him. “Your bossiness is losing its charm.”
He leans over, placing the softest kiss on my cheek. “We’ll have to test the theory out in a few circumstances then. Just to be sure.”
“You’re always so thorough with everything you do.”
He grins. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He moves away, taking his cologne and addictive pheromones with him. “And answer my messages from now on.”
“I can once I get a replacement phone.” I point at a bowl filled with rice.
“Do I even want to know?”
I grin. “Probably not.”
Even after Rowan leaves, I can’t stop smiling to myself.
Because I’m going on a date tomorrow with Rowan Don’t-Know-What-the-G-Stands-For-Yet Kane.
Power wears many faces. Tonight, mine is drawn from the look on Rowan’s face when I exit my apartment.
“You look like…a princess.” He rubs his jaw.
I beam as I run a hand down the bottom half of my yellow dress, pressing down the puffy tulle. My mom made it for me after I raved about a similar dress from a celebrity. Against my brown skin, the material reminds me of early morning sunrays.
Rowan’s gaze becomes lethal. His eyes flick from my corset top to my fluffy skirt.
While he’s looking at me, I stare at him. Out of all his suits, this one is by far my favorite. I’m not sure if he knows that. The way the royal blue material plasters against his skin has me wanting to invite him into my apartment and forget all about our dinner plans.
Our eyes connect. He curses at whatever look I have written all over my face. Instead of listening to my suggestion, he grabs my hand and hauls me away, muttering under his breath the entire time.
“Garfield.”
Rowan’s hand on my thigh flexes. “God, no.” He hasn’t stopped touching me since I entered his Rolls Royce. Apparently, people like the Kanes reach a level of wealth where they don’t even have to drive their own cars anymore. At first, I thought it was ridiculous. But then, the freedom gives Rowan the ability to run his hands up and down my thigh. Despite the obscene amount of layers, his fingers send flames of heat up my thigh with every enticing swipe.
I peek down at the list of names I saved after wondering what the heck Rowan’s middle name was. After searching all over the internet, and some sketchy websites that requested lots of money for a background check, I settled on a list of baby names from a website.
Except I’m twenty names in and have struck out with each one.
“Gary.”
His chest shakes from silent laughter. “No.”
“Gertrude.”
“That’s a woman’s name.”
I shrug. “Your mom could have been progressive.”
Shoot. I didn’t mean to bring her up. The Kanes are like a vault when it comes to anything related to Rowan’s mother. The only thing the general public knows is she died after a long, terrible battle with cancer.
He squeezes my thigh as if he wants to reassure me. “My mother was many great things, but even she wasn’t that progressive. Thank God.”
“Hmm. Okay! What about Glen?”
“You’ll never guess, so you might as well give up now.”
I make eye contact with him and jut out my bottom lip. “I’m no quitter.”
He rubs my lip with his thumb, making heat trickle down my spine in response. “That’s why I’ll reward you with the story of how I got my middle name. But I must swear you to secrecy.”
I hold out my pinky for him.
He bats it away before leaning forward, cupping my cheek with a calloused hand. “A kiss for a secret.”
“I’ve never heard of this game.” I smirk.
“That’s because it’s exclusively ours.”
Warmth shoots through my chest at the idea of us having something to ourselves. “I like this game already.”
His hand wraps around the back of my neck and tugs me forward. His lips press against mine, soft at first before giving way to a burning hunger. Heat spreads across my skin as Rowan brands my lips with his tongue, tracing a pattern I feel down to my very heart.
He kisses me until I’m breathless and panting. His eyes lose their brightness as they slide from my face to the window behind me.
I hate seeing him this way. “I can stop guessing. You don’t need to tell me.”
He shakes his head. “We made a deal.” The resigned sigh he releases does little to ease the tension from his body. “I don’t talk much about my mother.”
I reach out and clutch his hand in mine. He holds on to it like a lifeline, barely concealing the tremble in his hand as he squeezes the blood from my fingers. “Some of my memories are confusing since I was so young, but the one thing I remember most about my mom was that she loved King Arthur.”
“No way! She was a history buff?”
He looks at me knowingly. I sigh and give him a soft peck for his next secret. I move away but he tugs me back into his chest and deepens the kiss. Like he needs the extra courage to talk about anything related to his mother.
He might not be searching for love but maybe he’s looking to heal.
I can help with that. I’ve been there.
He releases me before taking a few deep breaths. “My mother was obsessed with history and stories that bordered on fantasy. That’s actually how she and my father met.”
He pauses as if he’s not sure if he should keep going.
“Tell me more. Please?” I kiss his cheek.
“She worked at the tutoring center at the university they both attended. My father walked into the building to pick up his friend whose car was at the shop. My mother was working the counter and asked if he needed help.”
“And?”
“My father was a straight-A student who attended an entire semester’s worth of tutoring sessions for a class he wasn’t even taking.”
“No!” I laugh until I’m hoarse. His parents’ story might be better than mine—not that I would admit that to them.
“It’s true. Mom even revised his fake essays and homework about King Arthur and his knights.”
“I see lying is a Kane family trait here.”
He smirks. “We do anything to get what we want.”
“Ruthless. All of you,” I tease.
He chuckles low under his breath.
“What did your dad say about it all? And how did he get her to agree to a date after pretending for so long?” I need to hear more if only to feed the hopeless romantic in me.
“I don’t remember.” Rowan’s lips press into a thin line, and his hand holding on to mine tenses.
The temperature in the car drops, matching the energy coming off Rowan. My entire chest aches for Rowan’s dad. Despite hearing all about his questionable business decisions, I can empathize with anyone who lost their wife. Especially a man who was willing to attend tutoring sessions for no reason but to spend time with the woman he liked.
And I can feel even more empathy for the children who suffered from similar grief.
I give his hand a squeeze. “So what’s the connection between that story and your middle name?”
“My mother named my brothers and me after King Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table.”
“Those are some big shoes to fill. Didn’t they find the holy grail or something?”
“Or something.” The corner of his mouth lifts again and the tension leaves him like a gust of air. “I have it easy. Declan’s the one who has to introduce himself as Declan Lancelot Kane for the rest of his life.”
An ungodly giggle escapes me at the idea of Rowan’s oldest brother having to bear that kind of cross for the rest of his life. Lancelot? Really?
“And you? Mr. R.G. Kane?”
“Galahad,” he grumbles under his breath, bringing my attention to the lightest shade of pink in his cheeks.
“Aw. That’s cute.”
“There’s only room for one liar here, and it’s not you.”
I shove his shoulder. “I mean it! The story behind it makes it that much more special.”
His body tightens. “If you tell anyone, I’ll have to—”
“Yeah, yeah. Fire me. I got it already.”
“I’ll have to fuck you. But if you’re interested in role-playing the other scenario, I’m more than happy to oblige.”
“Did you make a sex joke?! I am absolutely scandalized.” I speak in a Southern accent while fanning my face.
He shakes his head like I’m the most amazingly crazy person he’s ever met. Okay, I’m only assuming, but it seems like a plausible guess.
I hold out my hand. “You have a deal.”
