Drake’s rough hand runs along the length of my forearm like he’s trying to enchant me. “We’ll have to see about changing that.”
Suddenly, a softer hand latches around my waist and I’m tugged abruptly away from the contractor. “That’s enough. We have work to do.”
There’s laughter from Drake as he follows behind us. “Don’t forget your hats.”
With a scowl on his face, Emerson grabs them out of the man’s hands, keeping his body between mine and Drake’s. The contractor doesn’t follow us inside though. Instead, he begins barking orders at a team of workers on the scaffolding outside.
Emerson mutters in my ear, keeping my body close to his, “Stay away from him. He has no boundaries.”
“What’s his kink?” I ask, and Emerson’s head snaps in my direction.
With his arm still around my waist, he stops me before we reach the door. “You can’t just go around asking people what their kinks are.”
“But you said—”
He’s so close now, hovering over me like a shadow. “I know what I said. I just don’t want you…” His voice trails off.
“You don’t want me what?”
“You’re just my secretary, all right? And you’re my son’s ex, remember? I don’t want you getting involved in this stuff. So don’t ask people their kinks and don’t flirt with the men. Or women,” he adds as an afterthought.
I feel my jaw clench and my shoulders tighten as I glare up at him. “You know I’m twenty-one, right? And remember that big speech you gave about this stuff being so…normal?”
The hand around my waist tightens, and I feel the eyes of other workers on us.
“Will you just listen to me, please? You’re not ready for this, Charlotte.”
In that moment, I hear Beau. I hear him telling me what I can and can’t handle, making decisions for me and taking away my right to think for myself. So I snap, tearing my body away from Emerson’s grasp.
“I will decide what I’m ready for. And my name is Charlie, not Charlotte.” My tone is harsh, biting out each word with anger before I stomp away, tearing open the front door with abandon. He’s quick on my heels, but I don’t dare look at him, even after he approaches me from behind, not touching me this time.
I’m too fired up to really absorb what’s happening around me. There are people working everywhere. They are laying tile and painting the walls while drills and other machines buzz loudly, echoing through the empty space.
“Emerson,” a male voice calls from the other side of the building. We pass through a lobby area with a tall desk and dark black tiles on the floor. Then we enter the main room, which reminds me of a dance club. There’s even a stage at the front, and a team of guys are installing the tallest stripper pole I’ve ever seen.
Along the sides of the room are doors and two hallway entrances, one on either side of the stage. There’s also a second floor with a wraparound balcony that lets those above look down at the club below. I can’t seem to stop looking at everything, trying to imagine what would go on here, what all the rooms are for and what is down those hallways.
“This must be Charlotte,” a male voice says as we approach a slender man in a suit.
He takes my hand and shakes it delicately, keeping his eyes on my face and not my breasts like the god of thunder outside.
“Charlotte, this is my partner, Garrett Porter.”
“Nice to meet you,” I reply.
Unlike Emerson, Garrett has a warm smile, showing his teeth as he grins. With honey brown hair and a clean-shaven face, he has the look of someone who does a lot of business. He looks like a salesman, but with those scrutinizing eyes on me, I get the feeling he’s reading me.
Yep, he’s a salesman, all right.
“Is Maggie around? She has paperwork to give her,” Emerson asks.
“Yep, in the office.”
A broad, soft hand lands at the small of my back, but I’m still a little pissed at him, so I quickly step away, instantly missing the comforting touch.
“I’ll find it,” I mutter darkly. I turn back to find him clenching his jaw as he glares at me, and I’m overcome with a wave of disappointment, but I quickly brush it off.
Leaving him with the other men, I cross the open space, stepping over beams and tools, my shoes echoing with each step. Emerson doesn’t say anything as I head down the hallway that leads toward the back of the building, so I assume I’m going the right way.