If Bryant hadn’t been completely taken with Tori before, that meeting would have done it. Damn, but she was glorious. He could tell from the start, the three guys and the woman who greeted them didn’t set out to be impressed, at first.

“Robert, Anne, Quinn, Peter, glad to see you again. This is Bryant Parker, our CEO. I hope you won’t mind if he sits in with us, would you? He wanted to make sure I know what I’m talking about.”

The laughs were a little forced at first. Twenty minutes later, they weren’t.

Tori was purposefully unapproachable at work, but here, she did the opposite, joking, talking about her own taste, and basically charming their pants off.

As a young professional, she was at the heart of most marketing campaigns, and she used it.

“I mean, I know when someone is selling me a package on Facebook; I just scroll through without giving it a second glance. We can go for a pretty model sitting in a high-rise apartment no one can afford.” Ouch; that must have hurt. That was exactly their previous campaign, and one glance at their stats showed it hadn’t worked “Or we can take it out, make it dirty. Your sports band is waterproof, and resistant to high temperature. Get it underwater. Take it to the top of the Himalayas. We have contacts across the globe who can get that done in half a day, giving you a unique, beautiful video that screams adventure. And we can do that at half the cost, because our filmmakers are already on our books.”

They signed. They didn’t have any other choice, really.

Bryant dragged Tori’s gorgeous butt to the closest restaurant to celebrate, although she kept on saying it was nothing more than her job. Bullshit.

“Damn, woman. You could talk your way out of Hell.”

She shrugged. “It’s not just me; Emma down in design drew up the whole panorama slide. Pretty sure that helped.”

He tried to remember if she’d ever taken a praise easily, and came up blank.

Wanting to test it out, he said, “You’re brilliant.” She rolled her eyes. “And beautiful. And incredibly smart. And adorable when you’re glaring like that. And you really can’t stand compliments, can you?”

“I can,” she lied. He just sent her a look until she caved. “Okay, so, maybe not, but that’s because normally people, in general, and men in particular, only bother to praise me when they want something.”

“The only thing I want right now is to let you know I see you, Victoria Brown.”

She averted her eyes. Damn. He’d only had a chance to peek behind her walls, but each time he did, what he saw, he wanted to keep.

“Why do you move your shoulder like that all the time?”

Caught in mid movement, he saw he was in the middle of absentmindedly rolling his shoulder and tilting his neck.

“Uh?”

“Never mind, silly question. Everyone working in an office has back problems. Is it your neck or your arm?”

He had to think. “Both?”

“And do you do anything about it?”

Sure, he went to see a physical therapist, got some massages, and downed pain killers every four hours or so.

“You should try yoga, stretching helps.”

Bryant laughed. “Only one problem with that, luv: I don’t have a vagina.”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s plenty of guys in my class.”

“Sure, but how many of them are straight?”

She didn’t reply, knowing he was right.

Tori got her phone out of her gray woolen coat and started typing. It was only then that he realized he hadn’t even seen her phone until now. Yet another thing that set her apart from Naomi: he didn’t think he’d ever spent five minutes with his ex without her playing with her phone. When she was with him, Tori never did.

Catching his gaze zeroing on the device, she said, “I’m telling Sam to clear your afternoon.”

Interesting.

“Oh?”

“Yep. You’re going to crash and burn once we’re done.”

Next, she made a quick phone call; just listening to her end of the conversation, it sounded like she was making an appointment. She didn’t tell him what for, and he managed not to ask. It killed his controlling ass, but she obviously expected him to argue with her. Besides, it wasn’t like it mattered. The likelihood of him refusing an afternoon with her was nil, regardless of what she had in mind.

He hadn’t known what she’d meant right then; three hours later, he did.

What the bloody hell had happened to him? Had they drugged him or something? Bryant wasn’t one to nap, but he felt like keeping his eyes open for another second was in the realm of impossibility.

“I’m just… gonna close my eyes for a bit,” he said, before fading into oblivion.

Rather than taking a cab, Tori had dragged his sorry ass to the subway. Bryant didn’t have an issue with the tube in London, because it made fucking sense, but the NYC subway was beyond his comprehension, and he’d avoided it like the plague after getting lost there years back.

She knew where she was going, so he just followed Tori like the lost puppy he was, until they stopped somewhere in Brooklyn.

“I’m not the distrustful sort, but these obscure alleys do make me wonder whether you plan on hiding my body somewhere.”

“Don’t be silly. I’d take you down to the river if that was my intention.”

Okay, then.

Eventually, they got to a door, above which hung a sign written in Chinese.

“My Mandarin is rather rusty, luv.”

She just laughed, heading inside.

They were greeted by an Asian couple in white coats.

“Victoria! Good to see you,” the lady smiled, herding them towards one of the three green doors on their left. “We had a last-minute cancellation, so you got lucky. This is for your man today, yes?”

Her man.

Bryant turned to her, fully expecting her to say something along the line of Bryant is just my boss, but she only replied, “Yeah, Bryant’s neck is hurting.”

“Let’s have a look at you.”

The woman took him to a small, clean exam room. Bryant noticed the furniture was on the cheap side, but the walls were covered with unusual art.

“I’ll need you to fill in this patient form, then you can tell me where it hurts.”

He did so, thinking that there was no reason why he shouldn’t at least try Tori’s doctor. He hadn’t taken the time yet to see anyone since his arrival in the city, and his body was seriously starting to protest against being neglected.

“Lie down on your belly, head in the headrest. Perfect.” Then, she pressed on his neck, hitting the sorest point right away. “Does it hurt here?”

“Ye—" he started to say. Before he’d finished the word, something sharp pierced his skin, surprising him.

He just had time to register that it didn’t really hurt when a second needle found its way into his shoulder. A third went in right under his shoulder blade and he just moaned against the headrest, feeling boneless, all trace of pain disappearing.

He barely recalled the trip back, and it was nine o’clock before he opened his eyes after his four-hour nap, his body feeling better than it had in years.

All the same, he felt restless, displeased.

His home was empty. Dark, and empty.

Bryant was used to solitude by now. There was a humongous difference between being alone and feeling lonely. He’d never had an experience with the second before Tori Brown waltzed into his life.

It hit him that he couldn’t even call her, find an excuse to get her there. He didn’t have her phone number.

Fuck that shit.

What’s Tori’s number?

James started typing almost immediately: Bryant saw the three little dots moving.

Didn’t I say you should leave her alone? Like, numerous times?

He could have found an excuse, something work-related, perhaps.

If she can take The Tower without running out, I’m probably going to end up marrying that gal, brother. Deal with it.

Yes. He realized that that sort of talk was premature for anyone who didn’t reside in Hollywood. He also didn’t give a damn about what was the done thing. Never in his life had he met a woman he clicked with half as much as her. He craved her, although he’d already had her; truly craved her touch, her presence. But it was only today that he’d accepted she was a potential Mrs. Parker. Because she’d taken care of him. She’d seen him hurt and she’d immediately changed her own schedule, as well as his, to fix it.

No one had ever done anything like that for him. No one.

If this thing between them could work, he wasn’t letting her go.