“Jameson, you’re always the last one to leave. You do know your dad owns this company, right?”

“Hardy har har. Yes, I’m well aware.” I shook my head at Chuck. He was the best finance guy on staff, and often pulled late hours right alongside yours truly. “You’re not doing much better. I’m pretty sure there isn’t anyone other than us here. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

He snickered. “Oh yes, so many better things to do. But unfortunately my idiot friend is being blackmailed by his dickhead father, so I’m helping him out. No big deal or anything.”

I cocked a brow. “No big deal, huh?”

“Eh, just one of the many things on my to-do list. What about you? What happened to what’s her name? Ilona?”

“I think you mean Elaina. That was just a friend thing.”

Charles laughed. “You might think you’re Clooney, but think again, my friend.”

“Fuck Clooney. I’m more James Dean. You know, old-school badass.” I winked.

He let out another laugh, this time one that could have been heard down in the lobby despite us being on the thirtieth floor. Charles slapped my shoulder. “Good night, Mr. Dean.”

“You’re funny for someone who is usually pussy-whipped.” I made a thrashing sound at him while he strode down the corridor toward the elevators.

The office fell quiet, nothing audible except the rhythmic punch of my fingers on the keyboard of my MacBook.

I swiveled my chair, faced the large glass windows of my office, and took in the city lights. I closed my eyes for a second. After all-day meetings, the muscles in my back ached. A few more proposal reviews, then I’d pack up for the evening.

My iTunes playlist transported me to an island, far away from everything. The soothing sounds helped me relax until a noise—

Heels?

The noise stopped. I could have sworn I heard someone walking down the hall. Maybe Charles forgot his keys? I popped one eye open and turned around.

Eden! What the fu—

I blinked a couple times. It was her; she stood in my office doorway with pursed lips. Her presence hit me like a fastball, knocking me on my ass. What was she doing here? Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes bluer than the sea. Her V-neck top cupped her full chest, exposing her deep cleavage. Beneath my desk, I tightened my grip around the extra fabric of my pants. Fuck me.

She wore the tightest skirt I had ever seen—so tight, I wasn’t sure how anyone in her office got any work done. This woman was the devil, mocking me and any man who dared cross her path. The air between us crackled. She remained silent. I gazed lower, landing on her long legs, which were hidden by sheer black stockings. Polka-dot nylons never looked so decadent. They had my fingertips prickling. Always a fucking tease.

She blinked, batting her lashes. “Where is everyone? Don’t you people work around here?”

I swallowed the golf ball lodged in my throat. “There’s a company basketball game. Everyone left early. How the hell did you get up here?”

She shifted in her heels, placing a hand at her hip. “Give me City Net back, Winthrop. I don’t know what you said or did to Thompson, but I had the contract in the bag. Why are you so petty?”

I didn’t know whether to chuckle or give her an earful. I loosened my tie, savoring the moment. “He came to me.”

The color drained from Eden’s face. Gulping, she rasped out a word I thought sounded similar to “liar,” but I couldn’t be sure. She swallowed, giving herself a second to regain her composure. “Why in the hell would he come to you?”

Her anger floated between us, more of an aphrodisiac than anything else I could put into words; as her rage escalated, so did the thumping in my chest. She oozed sex appeal, even while her hands were clenched so tight they could juice a lemon.

The deal with Thompson must have meant more to her than I’d thought. Was it necessary for me to make her simmer? No, but I couldn’t control it. Leaning forward in my chair, I eyed her. “He didn’t tell me you were submitting a bid until after he’d asked me for one.”

Her jaw clenched, and she gripped the strap of her purse so tightly that her knuckles turned a ghostly white. “Is that, right?”

“Yes, princess.”

“Well, that’s fucking priceless now, isn’t it?” Eden threw her bag on the floor as she began to pace. “He told me your offer involved less capital. How’d you manage that one? And I know you’re conniving, so why should I believe you about him coming to you, anyway. When have you ever missed an opportunity to undercut me?”

Eden had surpassed livid and progressed into full-on apocalyptic fury. I had successfully rattled her. For a brief minute, it felt exhilarating—I’d only seen her this mad once before.

When I didn’t react, she took a step closer. “Answer me, goddammit,” she said from the center of my office.

“Why did you come here tonight?” I said instead.

Eden scowled at me. “Because I . . .”

“You can believe me or not. It’s not my job to tell you how to pitch a deal or what you did wrong. It’s also none of my concern how you should structure your bid for Thompson. You want to be behind the wheel?”

She shot me an I’m-going-to-strangle-you glower.

“Then don’t get distracted.” I leaned back, drinking her in. “You know better.”