Page 11 of The Heir
Like noodles. I've never seen her eat a noodle dish. She also has a weird thing with money that I haven't figured out yet, but I will.
I know her friend group, her family ties, even the personal business of that fucker she calls a boyfriend. Like how he's busy fucking Isobel's friend and assistant Anna every chance he gets, and has been for the last six monthsat least.And that's the real reason why Isobel can walk so well, you see.
Poor baby, I'm about to fix that.
I hold the documents out to her. "Here are the documents for your approval. I need to call our meeting over at five forty-five today." I'm dismissive, letting her know by the coldness of my tone that I can dish out some attitude as well. Way worse than hers, but she doesn't need to know that yet. No, she'll find out when I pick her up. I'm just beingpolite, waiting for an in, because this one doesn't trust easy, if ever. No, I'll need an in with her.
As soon as I get it, I'll strike.
I finish up our meeting, and I'm happy to see that she doesn't complain anymore after she's assured she gets what she wants. Isobel is demanding as a business owner, and part of me wonders how her man is able to get away with fucking around on her as long as he has. Because she doesn't seem to be the type to let that happen.
I would never cheat on her. Not only because I won't want to, but the prospect of this woman trying to kill me over it sends chills through my body.
Maybe I need to snatch her up before she finds out about Christopher?
Going over the last design, I attach it to its architectural rendering and then stand, holding out my hand to her right at five forty-five. She stands fluidly, but then reaches down in her purse instead of shaking my hand. Just before I let it drop she pulls out a tube of cream and places it in my hand nonchalantly.
"What's this?" I ask, confused. Wishing I could have felt her hand in mine.
"I got it for you."
I turn the tube over and see it's the same one she let me use from a couple months ago when my hands were stinging from me scrubbing them clean of ink all weekend. My heart warms, beginning to beat a little faster.
"For me?" I ask slowly. My eyes rise to find that she's fussing with the handle of her purse, fidgeting as if she's uncomfortable.
"Yes. If you scrub your hands any harder, you won't have hands to work with."
"Oh Isobel, my hands work just fine, I assure you." It comes out rough, too sexual.
Her eyes widen in reaction to my words, her body stiffens before she turns away and strides to the door, leaving without a goodbye. It's so sudden that I forget to tell her to grab her apology flowers.
Her physical discomfort betrays her attraction to me. The fact that she's fighting like hell in order to maintain professional boundaries makes me want to rip down that wall of hers even more. That woman wants me just as much as I want her, and it solidifies my urge to snatch her up.
I'll spend the rest of my night making preparations. Need to be ready, prepared for the minute I have my chance. Pulling out my phone, I busy straightening my desk as I call my house manager.
"Hello?" Carlotta answers the phone swiftly.
"Carlotta, I need you to make sure Ms. Brookes room is ready."
"Yes, sir. Are you bringing her tonight, sir?"
"Not tonight, but soon. I just want it perfect for her," I say. "Did you receive the perfume I told you to order for her?"
"The French one, sir?"
"Yes."
"It arrived last night, sir. It's in the vanity with the rest of Ms. Brookes things."
"Thank you, Carlotta."
"You're most welcome, sir."
I hang up with my staff and text my driver that I'm headed down. As I walk pass my receptionist desk, Sylvia stops me. "Mr. King, do you have a quick moment?"
My steps slow to a stop as I arch an eyebrow at her, she knows I'm in a hurry. "Yes, Sylvia? Is everything okay?"
"I just thought you'd like to know that Ms. Brookes enquired about the office for lease on the thirteenth floor. She's interested in renting it, sir."
