“Decorum,” Kelsey whispers as she pulls me off the elevator with her.
“Kelsey, Lottie, so glad you could make it,” Huxley says with a grin. He gestures to the conference room behind him. “We’ll be in here.”
Kelsey starts for the conference room, but I grab her hand and hold my finger up to Huxley. With a smile that pains me, I say, “Please give us one moment. We’ll be right in.”
He nods, and the three men walk into the conference room, allowing the door to shut behind them.
I turn my back to them and, with eyes that scream death, say, “What the fuck, Kelsey? Why is Huxley here?”
With a grin spread across her face, making sure the guys see that nothing is wrong, she says, “That’s why he came by this morning—well, one of the reasons—to set up a meeting with us and to give you the car, obviously.”
“A meeting for what?”
“For the office.” Her smile grows even more. “He wants to possibly hire me to organize and make the office more sustainable. This could be a huge account, Lottie. If done right and efficiently, this could put us on the map.”
The excitement in her eyes, the hope blooming inside her, sets me into a tailspin. Because this doesn’t feel right, it almost feels too good to be true, and as the older sister, I want to protect her from harm. But how can I express my concerns without looking as though I’m trying to pee on her parade?
I don’t trust Huxley.
I don’t trust his intentions.
I’ve seen the extent he’ll go to in order to deceive someone into making a deal. Who’s to say he wouldn’t do that to my sister?
But her begging, pleading eyes are cutting through my strong will. She wants this, this chance to grow, and hell, I can’t take that away from her, no matter my level of unease.
Pushing my hesitation to the side, I say, “Okay, but let’s proceed with caution. We don’t know what this could lead to, and we also need to remember that Huxley is a shrewd businessman.”
She smirks. “Trust isn’t built in a day; I get it.” She takes my hand in hers. “Let’s go in there and blow their dicks off.”
I chuckle. “Not literally . . . right?”
Her eyes widen. “Right, no blowing actual dicks.”
Together, we walk into the conference room and stand at the end of the table, opposite the three extremely handsome men. Even though they all are extremely attractive—which isn’t intimidating at all—my eyes land on Huxley, sitting in the middle with his folded hands resting on the table.
“Mr. Cane, we’re so honored you had time to meet with us today,” Kelsey says, and I hold back a sneer at her use of Mr. Cane. Ugh, gross. Am I going to have to call him that?
And these two guys, do they know who I am? Am I supposed to walk up to Huxley and give him a kiss?
Oh shit, wait . . . was I?
Was this part of a test?
When I glance at Huxley, he’s staring me down, his eyes fixated on the ring on my finger, which I keep twirling with my thumb out of pure nerves.
Is he trying to tell me something? Is that a hint? I did brush him off right when we got here, asked for space. What if he’d intended to give me a hug? Should I assume these men know we’re engaged? Or is this a business setting? His house staff were aware of our engagement.
Jesus Christ, a heads-up would’ve been wonderful.
On both ends. From my sister and from Huxley.
Sweat forms at the base of my neck, heating up my ears as I take a step forward. I watch Huxley intently as I take another step forward, looking more like an unoiled robot than a confident fiancée. I just don’t know the protocol.
WHAT IS THE DAMN PROTOCOL?
“Lottie, are you okay?” Kelsey asks.
Another step, closing the distance, slowly, awkwardly, but closing it.
“Oh, yeah, just wonderful. Want to, uh, make sure I say hello. You know . . .” I gulp, “to my, uh, to my counterpart.” I point at Huxley and take another step forward. “The man I can’t stop thinking about.” Another step, until I’m right at his chair, the other two men looking up at me awkwardly. I pat Huxley on the shoulder, my gestures erratic. Not a smooth bone in my body. “Hello, dear honey . . . bottoms.” I smile. “You’re looking ravishing.” With every eye in the room watching me, I lean down, growing closer and closer until my lips meet the top of his head. Instantly I’m met by the smell of his delicious cologne and the masculine scent of his hair products. “Oh, that smells nice.” I pat his head. “Not musky at all. Just . . . you know, like a man should smell. All mountainy and rich. You smell very rich.” Awkwardly I finish kissing the top of his head, and then I move away and give him a thumbs up. “Love getting to sneak in some affection during the day . . . fiancé.” I wink and take another step back as a droplet of sweat rolls down my back.