Page 2 of Fierce Storm
“Okay. Well, she’s great. You’ll love her. Now I have to try and track her down because I said she was here. Do you need anything before I do that?”
“Why would you— Never mind. No. I’m good. Thank you.”
“Good.”
Tabitha turns to leave, and my pounding head makes me stop her. “Actually, can I have fifteen minutes to myself? Uninterrupted.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” Tabitha’s pink cheeks darken, and I internally curse myself.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Tabitha. You’re doing your job.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Please don’t call me sir.”
“Okay, sir.”
For fuck’s sake.I force a smile and wave her away before I fall back onto the couch, my fingers immediately moving to rub my throbbing temples. This is a goddamn shit show. Financialissues, management power struggles, a fucking TV show. It’s a mess. And I’m the idiot who volunteered to pick up the pieces. Actually, I didn’t volunteer; I paid a shit ton of money to do it. All because of a fucking dream.
“Fuuck.” This day needs to end and it’s only eleven thirty.
“Can I help?”
“Jesus Christ.” I stiffen at the honeyed voice coming from above my head, dropping my hands to reveal a beautiful woman with thick auburn hair cascading down her shoulders. She stares down at me, her expression confident as she pops her hip.Where the hell did she come from?
I push up from the couch, preparing to greet her, thankful that I’d left my shoes on this time. As I stand, my gaze sweeps along her fitted navy suit, following the line of her dress pants until it stops at her pointed-toe stiletto heel. The kind that tells me she means business.
Though, the fact that she’s standing in my officeunannouncedshould have given that away.
When I’m at full height, she straightens, standing taller, but still has to lift her gaze to meet mine, and her striking blue eyes catch my attention.
“Can I helpyou?” I counter, my lips curling into a forced grin. “I’m Salvatore, and you are…”
“Keeley.Sir.”
“Keeley?” She winks and my brows raise so fast, I guarantee it looks comical. “Right. So youwerein my office?” As the question leaves my mouth, it occurs to me that she could have just walked in, until I remember the way she said “sir.”She was here. But where?
“I was,” she confirms, and while her confidence never wavers, the hint of guilt flashes in her eyes.
“I just told my assistant youweren’t.”
“I heard.” She cringes adorably before a smile lights up her face, telling me she doesn’t actually care about my mistake. “Youalso asked for fifteen minutes ofuninterruptedalone time.” Her smile widens as she stares at me pointedly, and when I understand her meaning, I actually laugh. My first since I got here.What a fucking day.
“How can I help you, Keeley?”
“You’re not going to ask why I was hiding?”
“Nope. I’ve had a pretty surreal morning. What’s one more bizarre occurrence? Though I am curious as towhereyou were hiding. In case I need to disappear one day.”
Keeley snorts, her gaze falling to my hands, alerting me to the fact that my fists are clenched. “I was under your desk.” She gestures toward the grand mahogany structure in the middle of my office, and I chuckle again, flexing my fingers.
“Okay. Good to know.” Though I won’t be hiding there anytime soon, considering there’s a full wall of windows behind that desk. Windows that look directly onto the Storm practice field. If anyone had been on that turf, they would have seen Keeley.
A visual of this beautiful woman on her knees under my desk threatens to further complicate my already complicated day, and I change the subject to push it from my mind.
“Anyway, back to why?—”
“Ugh. Fine. I was patiently waiting for you to finish your meeting, and that painting caught my eye.” She points to the original work I had commissioned during the build of my first luxury apartment complex, after making it to the big leagues. I still smile when I pass by that building in New York, thankful that it’s not the project that ended my marriage. That one came with proud smiles from my now ex-wife.
