I walk up to the receptionist and she greets me with a warm sweet smile. “Hello, Miss Taylor. How are you today?” she asks.
“Please stop calling me Miss Taylor,” I say, smiling brightly at the sweet woman who I have come to know as Rachel.
“Okay, Shannon, if you insist,” she says, shaking her head. "Mr. Lockhart is ready to see you now.”
“Mr. Lockhart?” I question, confused. “I thought I was meeting with Teresa.” This is a change I would have liked to been prepared for.
“Miss Matthews couldn’t be here this morning, so Mr. Lockhart is handling all her appointments today.” She is gesturing for me to follow her. My nerves sky rocket. I’ve never met him before, but I know he’s the president of Lockhart Publishing. I’ve heard Nicholas Lockhart has a brutal business reputation. I do not need this today.
I follow Rachel into his office. She announces my arrival and walks out of the door while closing it. I see him standing behind his desk with his back facing me looking out the window.
This is the west side of the building so I assume he has a view of the ocean. His desk is large with two plush chairs sitting in front. There is a large couch and coffee table off to my left and a meeting table and chairs to my right.
My nerves have just started to calm down when I barely hear him say, “Please, take a seat, Shannon.”
His voice is soft and familiar. I walk farther into the room as he turns and I see him. I stand, stunned. My eyes widen a bit and I drop my portfolio on the ground.
“Nick.” It’s all that comes out of my mouth. What the hell? He rounds the corner of his desk to come stand in front of me. He bends down to the floor and retrieves my portfolio. Standing back up, he gestures towards the couch.
“Why don’t we sit?” Everything washes over me and reality sinks in. This is where he saw me months ago. He knew I was going to be here this morning, yet he said nothing. The nervousness I felt only a moment ago is replaced by bitchiness.
“No,” I say, taking a step back. I know if he touches me, my anger will dissipate after spending last night with him, a really shitty night that turned out spectacular.
“Would you please take a seat? It’s going to be difficult enough getting through this meeting knowing what’s underneath that dress.” His warm eyes glide down my body and his lips turn up into a small smile. Warmth washes over me as his eyes come back up to meet mine. I am determined not to give in to him so easily, so I place my hands on my hips and I continue to look at him. I can’t believe he is Nicholas fucking Lockhart! He’s my damn publisher. This can’t be real.
“Did you know I was coming here this morning? Nick, why didn’t you tell me who you are?” I demand to know.
He takes my hand, pulling me to the area with the couch and coffee table, but I catch the eye roll he does as he turns. Not letting my hand go, he places my portfolio on the table and turns back to me. My strength is slipping the longer he holds my hand. He pulls me into an embrace. Wrapping his left hand around my back, he continues to hold my left hand in his right hand.
Ughhh…since when did I become this weak? So much for not giving in to him so easily.
“I didn’t tell you who I was because I wasn’t sure you would let things go as far as it did last night, and I couldn’t take that chance.” He has a point there. I probably would not have. His hand glides up my arm. When he reaches the top, he pushes my jacket off my shoulder. Seeing the small bruise causes his eyes to harden for a brief moment.
“I didn’t know until I got here this morning your meeting would be with me. Teresa’s sister went into labor several weeks early.” He gently kisses the area where the bruise is located. Although I’m still upset he didn’t tell me who he is, I don’t protest. He pushes my jacket completely off and it falls to the ground. I close my eyes. My mind is clouded and I can’t think straight. His lips, his hands, his everything feels so good touching me.
“What the fuck is this?” I’m brought out of my haze.
Huh?
He’s staring at my arm. He’s staring at the fresh red scratch there. “This wasn’t here this morning. Where did it come from?”
He’s still holding my arm and has me around the waist with his other hand.
“It’s not important,” I say, turning my back to his front. I’m lying and I know I’m a shitty liar, so I can’t let him see my face. I just don’t want to think about my ex. The sooner I’m done with him completely, the sooner I’ll never have to think about him again. Besides, I saw the way Nick reacted last night. He was so angry at the site of the marks on my body. He looked like he could murder someone.