“Emma, stay right where you are,” he commanded. “We need to talk.”
I shook my head. Why did he have to make it so hard? Since when did the love-'em-and-leave-'em types want to talk?
“No, we don’t. I’m a big girl. I might have been a virgin, but I do know what a one-night stand is.” I smiled a super-bright, ridiculous, over the top smile to make sure he knew I was all right, even though I felt anything but. “Thanks, Carter. Bye.”
Slamming the door behind me, I jogged in my high-heels like an idiot down the ridiculously long, curved drive. Giant trees lined both sides of the private road leading to Carter’s mansion. Perfectly manicured flower beds and shrubs completed the look of an old, stately estate. I turned around as I fled and took in the two-story, colonial mansion with its marble columns, giant windows and bright white walls. It looked like something out of a fairy tale. The prince with the magical cock.
But I was no princess. Damn it anyway.
The car I’d been expecting pulled up and I slid into the back seat just as the Carter stepped out onto the porch. I waved as my driver completed the circuit and pulled away from the only man on the planet I’d never wanted to leave.
“Bye, Carter.” I whispered my goodbyes as the driver pulled onto the street. I wiped a tear from my cheek. Just one. And I refused to think about why I was crying at all.
Chapter Seven
Carter
“Where the hell is she?” I walked into Ford’s office with Emma’s panties in my pocket.
She’d run from me. Scared. I should have anticipated that, but I’d fucked up. I’d let her slip through my fingers. Should have told her what I felt for her. Why she was the only woman I'd ever taken into my home, into my bed. She thought I'd wanted a one-night-stand, that I'd fuck her and forget. Hell, even take her virginity and then walk away. She'd given it to me and I did not take that lightly. Apparently, she was under the misconception otherwise. It was time to set things right.
What we shared had been wild and dirty. Steamy hot. But it had also been… special. The connection we shared was unlike anything I'd ever felt before with any woman. I didn't just eat her out, I memorized her taste. I didn't just take her virginity, I watched her, listened to her and learned what made her hot, what made her cry out my name. What made her come on a fucking scream.
She'd fallen asleep a sweaty, panting mess, well satisfied and definitely no longer a virgin. Why she fled when it was so good between us was something I'd have to find out.
She said she had a meeting at nine. It was nine-fifteen, Ford was in his office and a woman I didn’t recognize was sitting at Emma’s desk.
What. The. Fuck?
If Emma thought she was going to get away from me that easily, she was in for the shock of her life.
Ford looked up from the report in his hand to inspect me. He looked like he always did, like an uptight prick. Which he was. If anyone needed to get laid, it was my brother. He looked like me, with lighter brown hair, milk chocolate instead of dark, green eyes instead of my brown, and our father’s scowl on his face. His eyes bored into me with the keen intelligence that had led our company since our father’s retirement two years ago. Ford was a merciless, brilliant asshole, and the Buchanan family counted on that fact every damn day. In fact, I often tried to emulate him. But right now, I was not in the mood to play games.
“Who?”
“Emma.”
“Oh.” Ford’s dismissive tone matched his expression and he returned his attention to the paperwork in front of him like I wasn’t standing in his office with my dick in my hand. “Gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
My brother didn’t bother to look up. “She’s at a meeting. Miller and Walsh. Two blocks down, shiny building on the right.”
“I know where their office is.” We’d been doing business with them for over a decade. Good god, was my brother purposely being an obtuse ass or was he blind? I sank down into the chair opposite Ford and put my feet up on his desk, just to piss him off. I slammed my heels, good and hard, on the polished wood to get his fucking attention. “Why is she there?”
Ford’s jaw clenched as he looked at my shoes on his sacred antique mahogany, but he put the fucking piece of paper down and looked at me. “She’s meeting her new financial team.”
“Why do you have a financial team at Miller and Walsh?”
Ford rolled his eyes and slowly smiled. Women tossed panties at him because of that smile. He didn't do it often, so that damn grin made me nervous. “I don’t.” Ford leaned over his desk, his arms crossed and resting on the paperwork spread out over his desk. “Why are you so interested in Miss Sanders’ whereabouts?”