CHAPTER SEVEN

“Good afternoon, Miss Montgomery. Mr. Ivanov will be right with you.”

“It’s Morgan.” I smile and thank the young woman with a sleek blond bob who is styled in black dress pants and a fitted black shirt.

“Claudia,” she replies with a nod as she walks to a small buffet table.

“Have we met before?” I ask, shaking my head to decline her offer for a light refreshment.

She hums. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, you must have a doppelganger because I met someone at a beach party recently who looked exactly like you only she was—”

“An overly excited blonde with long hair and boobs out to here?” She motions about a foot away from her body.

I chuckle. “Yeah, that description is...accurate.”

“I think you might’ve met my cousin Paige. My uncle has a house on the beach down in Rye Point. She actually used to date Andrew in college.”

As if she’d called Andrew’s name, he emerges from behind the closed door and halts his movements when he sees me. Our eyes meet and, although neither utters a single word, a million thoughts are conveyed.

Apology. Sympathy. Desire. Anger.

I swallow thickly, hoping the moisture will kick start my heart to resume its normal beat.

Andrew stands there, looking incredibly gorgeous and strong yet somehow extremely fragile. Thick, dark stubble covers his sharp jaw and his eyes appear to be a deeper shade of sapphire. When my eyes land on his mouth then travel to his hand gripping his cell phone, my tongue involuntarily swipes across my bottom lip, and I cross my legs to quell the subtle ache I feel starting. My body remembers where that mouth and those hands have been.

“Andrew!” Claudia smiles as her cheeks redden. “I didn’t realize you had come in. How long have you been here?”

Wearing jeans and a button down checkered shirt rolled up to his forearm, Andrew looks completely casual as one would expect him to on any average day. Appearing as if he’s going to meet friends for drinks, no one would expect he’s going to listen to the reading of his parents’ will.

His blue eyes cut to hers, but he doesn’t respond. In a flash, his eyes are focused intently on me.

Claudia stammers, “Uh...is Mr. Ivanov ready for Miss Montgomery?”

Clenching his jaw and without breaking eye contact, he simply nods and opens the door wide. I thank Claudia when I rise and walk to the door. Because the entry way is narrow, Andrew will have to retreat into the room or step out further into the waiting area.

“Excuse me.”

Stepping back slightly, Andrew crosses his arms, keeping his distance until I adjust my bag and brush my hand against his forearm. If the intention of his body language is meant to intimidate, he’s failed. While he glowers down at me, I raise my chin and return his harsh look.

If he thinks he’s entitled to be angry with me, then I have every right to be angry as well. I was there for him when he needed a friend.

With a wave and a call of greeting, I am welcomed into Victor’s office and I immediately notice the wall lined with shelves of law books and journals. I extend my hand and return his shake before taking a seat at the far end of the long table strewn with piles of papers.

Andrew pulls out the chair adjacent to mine and sits. Scratching his stubble, he exhales loudly then places his laced hands on the table. My eyes drift to his fingers and my mind wanders, memories flashing of his wicked words accompanied by the feeling of those same fingers plunging into my core, rocking my body to an orgasm.

Feeling the weight of Andrew’s stare, I drag my eyes upward and meet his ticking jaw and hard expression. He swallows, rolling his Adam’s apple forcefully.

“Let’s get this over with,” he demands huskily, turning to the other man in the room.

I turn my head slightly, purse my lips and narrow my eyes at his obvious agitation to simply being in the same room as me. I hate that my body heats as he sits there, stoic and cold. Directing my attention back to Victor who is seated across from me, I listen as he reviews the contents of Mark and Diana’s last will and testament.

“So like I’ve already explained to Andrew, since he is their only living heir, everything was left to him—”

I nod and widen my eyes. “That’s pretty obvious. That still doesn’t explain why I’m here.”

Andrew moves his arms, resting his elbows on the table as he balls one hand into a fist and covers it with the other. Sensing the tension radiating from Andrew’s body, I look at him curiously and shake my head. What is his problem?

Victor glances at Andrew and then turns back to me.

“You are also named in their will.”

“Me? Why me?” I ask, my voice rising to a higher octave, revealing my uncertainty and disbelief.

“Mark and Diana cared about you very much,” Victor counters. “They left the company to Andrew...and to you.”

“What?” I jump to my feet and plant my hands firmly on the table. “Why would they do that?” I toss my thumb in Andrew’s direction. “He’s their son. I’m not family!”

Using an authoritative tone, Victor suggests I sit and calm down.

“So here’s the deal,” he placates. “You and Andrew will be partners, but since you hold fifty-one percent of the shares to his forty-nine percent, you,” he winces, cutting his eyes to Andrew then back to me, “technically, have more control.”

Andrew exhales dramatically, pushes away from the table and walks to the window where he stares at the bright sunshine.

Stammering, I reveal my confusion. “Look...there has to be some misunderstanding. I can’t run their company.”

Victor offers a half-smile. “From what Mark said, you already did.”

Turning abruptly, Andrew focuses his attention on Victor and asks with a contemptuous growl, “How much would it be to buy her out?”

Her? I want to remind him that I’m sitting here in the same room. The least he could do is address me by name.

“Excuse me?” I snarl, standing to square off with him.

Fierce blue eyes sear into mine, and I swallow nervously at the intensity I detect in them.

“What if I don’t want to sell?” I ask defiantly, holding my head high.

Andrew looks at Victor. “I told you she’s stubborn.”

“Stubborn?” I hiss. “I think you mean strong-willed, spirited and tenacious.”

Warning that we both need to remain level-headed and rational, Victor states that we’re all still grieving the loss of Mark and Diana.

Under my breath, I mutter, “Yeah, some of us didn’t even care enough to attend their memorial service.”

Scolded by Victor as if I were a child, I sit quietly and bury my face in my hands.

“What are we supposed to do?” I raise my head and ask when my emotions are back in check.

Darting his eyes continuously between Andrew and me, he says, “Communicate. Work together. Make decisions together. Compromise. Be a team.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Andrew quips sarcastically. “Wanna bet this doesn’t work out?”

After a continuation of the specifics regarding the will, Victor steps out of the room to speak to Claudia.

I smooth back my hair, secure it into a twist at the nape of my neck and stare at the documents on the table before slowly dragging my eyes to look at him.

“Andrew—”

“I—”

Awkwardly, we insist the other continues on, but Andrew falls silent, waiting for me to speak.

“What happened to you?”

He says nothing.

“Where have you been? I was worried sick about you in Vegas.” I release the hold on my hair and tuck a strand behind my ear. “I searched everywhere, but you were gone.”

The only sign that he’s alive is the blinking of his eyes.

Frustrated by his silence, I huff. “Does this have something to do with what happened between us?”

I notice his eyes drop to my mouth, and he clenches his jaw.

“It’s obvious you’re upset with me. It would be a lot easier to apologize if I knew what I did wrong.”

Andrew stands suddenly and reaches for his wallet in his back pocket. He pulls out a small business card and tosses it onto the table.

“What’s this?” I ask, picking up the card and reading his name along with contact information. “Your business card?” I snicker and, unable to hide my cynicism, I sigh. “Oh, great. What am I supposed to do with this?”

“And I’ll be putting the house on the market within the next few weeks.”

Wordlessly, Andrew leaves the room.

Tears prick my eyes and then I close them, wondering how two incredibly wonderful people could have been related to such an asshole.

♦♦♦

Rising early, I stomp around the dwelling, angry that I’ll have to repack soon since my stay here will be an even more temporary one now that Andrew owns the place and clearly doesn’t want me here. Glancing at the framed picture on the shelf, I ball my fists and curse him for forcing me to find somewhere else to live even though Mark and Diana had said I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted. It’s obvious I’ve already overstayed my welcome.

“Hey there,” I call out to Andrew when I see him walking toward the garage as I carry a flattened cardboard out to the recycling bin. “I need to talk to you.”

He ignores me. Real mature.

Walking back to the pool house, I quietly swear, cursing Andrew Darling’s name with every demeaning and vulgar word that comes to mind. Just as I step onto the front landing, I hear the rev of an engine as Andrew speeds out of the garage and down the long driveway.

Presented with a lingering day of above average heat, I decide to take advantage of the pool before it’s closed up for the season. I whip up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, grab a paperback novel, my drawing pad and head out to sit by the pool. Looking around before I remove my cover-up, I spread my towel on the chaise lounge and sit. Within minutes after having sketched out the ideas in my head for some clients, I am transported to a mesmerizing, thrilling and suspenseful world on the pages. At some point, I manage to turn over, unhook the top of my black bikini and place the book flat down on the stamped concrete surrounding the in-ground pool. My hair is still atop my head, secured by a yellow number two pencil.

With the sun beating down on me, sleep beckons me. Having spent half the night awake, thinking about how I own fifty-one percent of a company and watching for any sign of Andrew in the main house, my body welcomes the reprieve.

“Where the hell are the cats?” an angry voice startles me awake. The sound of my sketch pad slapping against the concrete jostles my slumber.

“What?” I ask, clearly confused as my head snaps up to find Andrew glaring down at me. His stern countenance contrasts the gray Silver City Ale T-shirt and checkered board shorts he’s wearing so casually.

“The cats are gone. All their shit is gone. Where the hell are they?” he asks, demanding a reply.

I push up and immediately realize the mistake when Andrew’s eyes drop to my exposed breasts.

Shit!

Bending down, I grab my cover-up and turn away, slipping it over my head to cover my body. Smoothing back my hair then readjusting it with the pencil, I inhale quietly, mustering up the strength and patience to tell him the truth about what I’d done.

I turn around and notice Andrew’s eyes are still focused on my chest where my beaded nipples strain against the light cotton material.

“Someone adopted them,” I announce with confidence.

His eyes shoot to mine. “Someone did what?” he bellows.

“I didn’t know what to do with them. I couldn’t care for them because of my allergies and I couldn’t get in touch with you to see what you wanted to do so I—”

He glares at me, and I cringe. “So you took it upon yourself to give my fucking cats away?”

“Listen here!” Anger rises in my voice. “As far as I knew, they were your mother’s cats and, not for nothing, but someone had to make decisions around here! You vanished like a ghost. You just left without a trace. What was I supposed to do?” I step forward to confront him.

With a stiffened body, anger seeps through his pores and his eyes narrow on my face. “You had no right to do that! Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Who am I? I’m the person who was left to plan a memorial service and care for animals. So you know what, Andrew? I did what I thought was right. At least I took responsibility for them.”

Edging forward slightly, Andrew’s lips come close to mine before he retreats, shaking his head subtly.

“You have until tomorrow afternoon to get them back,” he barks.

“I can’t get them back. I found them a good home,” I counter.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” I rebuff, mocking his threatening words. “What are you going to do?”

Never did I expect what he did next.

Grabbing my face, Andrew smashes his lips against mine and forces his tongue into my mouth, hungrily savoring the taste of my lips and the feel of my submission when my tongue joins the sensual dance. I love the feel of his lush lips on mine and the tender laps of his tongue. My heart beats faster and harder, thumping wildly with desire as my body reacts to his lust-filled onslaught of deep, slow kisses.

My hands rise and hook onto his forearms. I feel the long strands of muscle beneath his skin and I moan as the memories of his body pressing against mine infiltrate my mind.

Drawing the moment to a close, Andrew offers a few chaste pecks before ending with a final kiss. When my eyes flutter open, Andrew is nowhere in sight and my body sways slightly, forcing me to sit back down on the chaise.

What the hell? I mumble to myself and shake my head while my fingertips graze over my lips which feel swollen and bruised.

Gathering my belongings, I head back inside and shower then call Toni to check on the cats. I don’t dare tell her about Andrew’s demand to return them because she’ll be heartbroken and I honestly have no idea how he would take them back to Colorado.

♦♦♦

Shortly after dinner, I open my laptop to get some work done ahead of this week’s busy schedule when I receive an email alert from Mark. I shudder at the thought of someone else using his account but quickly open the message.

My jaw drops open.

Mandatory staff meeting. Monday. 7 a.m. sharp.

A.D.

I tap reply and type.

Sorry, A.D. Work starts at 9.

An immediate response.

7 a.m. sharp. Non-negotiable.

I grind my teeth as I punch out a reply.

That’s not how things are run at D.A.D. But since you’re going to be there so early all by yourself, at least turn on the coffee machine for the rest of us.

Ping!

Do you think this is somehow funny? Is this how you plan on running my company?

I shake my head and type furiously.

Your company? I beg to differ. 51>49.

Just when I thought I’d ended the communication with my snarky response, another message appears.

Why my father chose to give you part of this company is beyond me. Perhaps you were, as I suspected, more than his senior advertising strategist.

Oh my God! He’s unbelievable.

You’re an asshole.

P.S. Don’t kiss me again. Who knows where your mouth has been.

I slam my laptop closed and set it on the coffee table. Balling my hands into tight fists, I clench my teeth and scream at the top of my lungs, declaring Andrew Darling to be a total asshole and a complete dickhead. Andrew Darling...Asshole Dickhead.

The book I’d been reading earlier in the day provides just the escape I need. Minutes turn into hours as the sun sets and night falls.