Under His Obsession Read online

  “Never thought you were involved, child,” he says quickly, and my shoulders relax slightly.

  I lean forward and put my hands on my knees. “I was asked to do a follow-up today because I had connections.”

  He nods slowly and takes another swig. “And you were fired because you refused?”

  “That’s right.” Yeah, the man is still sharp. “But I wanted to warn you and Will. I might have said no, but the next reporter won’t.”

  “I appreciate you coming to tell me this.” He sets his glass down, and his curled fingers adjust the gray cardigan around his shoulders. His eyes shut, and at first I think he’s deep in thought, but he goes quiet for so long, I fear he’s fallen asleep.

  I’m about to rise and tiptoe to the door so I don’t disturb him when his lids open and his blue eyes pin me in place.

  “Do you have work lined up?” he asks.

  “No, it just happened, but I’m about to start pounding the pavement.”

  “I have a job for you.”

  I shake my head fast. “While I appreciate your kindness, I—”

  “As stubborn as your father.” His chuckle is deep and raspy. “But you see, Khloe, you’d be doing me a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?” I ask, settling back in my seat.

  “Will needs an assistant for his upcoming trip to Saint Thomas.”

  Oh God, a trip to Saint Thomas sounds heavenly right now. A Caribbean beach, sand, water... But I suppose if I’m in some boardroom taking notes for Will Carson, I’ll see none of the island. Still, getting out of New York for a while does sound nice.

  “It’s a temporary job, until you find something in your field, of course.”

  I consider my meager savings. I’m adamant about making my own way in life, but a paying job until I can find something else, well, that would cover next week’s rent and put food in my belly—once it stops churning. Plus, James did say I’d be helping him out.

  “What would I have to do?” I ask.

  “You can write, can’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “I must warn you. He’s not always an easy man to work for.”

  “I’ve dealt with worse, I’m sure.”

  James chuckles. “I’m sure you have. Will, however, is very regimented and has high expectations of those who work for him.”

  “I have high expectations of myself,” I assure him. After Steph telling me Will was pretty much an ogre, I’m not sure why I’m working so hard to sell myself. Oh, right... I like having a roof over my head.

  “He also has a strict dress code.”

  “A dress code? Really?” From what I know about software developers, they go to work in jeans and wear T-shirts with sayings like Cereal Killer or I Paused My Game to Be Here. Then again, people think all reporters are heartless sharks. I’m not heartless, and for all I know Will is a suit-and-tie kind of guy, like James used to be. But a dress code means I’d need to go shopping. I consider my budget and there is very little room for new clothes. Maybe I won’t be able to take this job after all.

  James finishes the brandy in his glass and sets it on the table. “An assistant is an extension of Will and is expected to act and dress a certain way. Is that a problem for you?”

  “I...uh...what does he expect his assistant to wear?”

  “No worries, your clothing will be supplied.”

  “Oh, okay.” A measure of relief washes through me.

  “You’ll find a new wardrobe in your closet when you reach your destination.” He glances the length of me, like he’s trying to determine my size. I debate whether I should outright tell him, but in the end, I don’t want to say the number out loud. Honest to God, from the little amount I eat, I should be thinner than I am. But no, my body likes to store every damn calorie I take in. While I’ve come to terms with it, that’s one of the many things my ex-fiancé, Liam, wanted to change about me. Apparently, I didn’t fit in with what was expected of his affluent family. Douchebags. Every last one of them.

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “You’ll have to sign a nondisclosure agreement. Anything you see or hear cannot be repeated.”

  Jeez, the more he talks about Will, the more intrigued I am about the secretive, regimented asshole who provides clothing to his assistants. The same man caught in bed with another woman during his bachelor party. The more I think about it, a man like him getting caught seems rather contradictory to his character. If I hadn’t seen the pictures with my own eyes, I might not have believed it. Will flat on his back, some random girl riding him like he was her own personal pony. It’s rather disgusting that Avery sneaked in and took the pictures.

  James sits back in his chair and lifts his head. He riffles through the Polaroids beside him, finds what he’s looking for and hands it to me.

  “That’s Will,” he says, but he doesn’t need to tell me. Nor does he need to tell me I’m looking at the hottest guy on the planet. One who can’t keep it in his pants, even when he has a beautiful fiancée.

  “Whose wedding?”

  “Will’s brother Alec and his beautiful bride, Megan. Married in Saint Moritz near my resort.” Under his breath he says, “Now there’s only one left.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  There’s a new spark in his eyes when he says, “You’re perfect for Will.”

  Perfect for Will?

  Something feels a little off in the way he phrased that. Then again, he is in his nineties, and perhaps he’s not as sharp as I thought. “You mean I’m the perfect assistant for Will, right?”

  “That’s right. Isn’t that what I said?” That spark is back in his eyes, and before I can answer he continues with, “You’ll do it then?”

  “I’d never say no to a favor for you, but can I ask how it is a favor for you?”

  “Will is a very private man. He hires a new assistant for every trip. He’s not so trustful, you see. Doesn’t let anyone get too close or hang around too long. There is no room for complacency in his world.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Every assistant is vetted through my agency, and I’m their last stamp of approval. Unfortunately, no one quite fits what he needs.”

  “You think I do?”

  “I think you’re perfect. But there is one more thing, Khloe.” He leans toward me. “It’s very important.”

  I eye him carefully, not at all sure I like the sound of this. “Okay...”

  “I realize you don’t put articles out in your own name at Starlight, but please don’t mention you’re a journalist, or anything about the magazine.”

  I’m about to question him on that, but quickly realize why it’s important to keep that information private. Will, undoubtedly, has a deep hatred and distrust for reporters after the exposé done on him. “I don’t like to lie.”

  “It’s not a lie. It’s just not something he needs to know.”

  “Why hire me if he hates reporters? I’m sure there must be at least one temp at the agency who could give him what he needs.”

  “Not the way you can. Now you’d better get a move on—his plane leaves in a couple hours.”

  When I catch what looks like mischief in his cloudy eyes, unease trickles through me. While I’m certain James would never steer me wrong, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to go down the rabbit hole and not come out the same.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Will

  AT THE SOUND of hurried footsteps on the metal stairs of Granddad’s Learjet, I lift my eyes and say, “You’re late.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I take in the breathless woman glaring at me. Damn, if looks could kill...

  I sit up a little straighter, fold the newspaper I’d been reading and carefully set it on my lap.

  “I said, you’re late.”

&
nbsp; One hand planted on her hip and one foot tapping restlessly, she says, “I do apologize,” her dark brown eyes flaring hot. “I’m usually punctual, but not only did I have little time to prepare for this trip, traffic was horrible, and my driver was a maniac. I’m lucky I made it here alive.”

  “You didn’t use Granddad’s driver?”

  “No. I left from home and didn’t see the need for him to backtrack to pick me up.”

  I raise my brows. “That’s what his service is for.”

  “I just didn’t want to put anyone out,” she says, and it surprises me, considering most temps love to ride in Granddad’s limo.

  She rakes agitated fingers through a mess of wavy chestnut hair, her chest rising and falling as if she’s been running. Her tight yoga pants hug her curvy hips like a second skin, and the relaxed V-neck T-shirt she’s wearing showcases an abundance of creamy cleavage. Something inside me twitches at the sexy sight and reminds me I haven’t been with a woman in far too long.

  Nevertheless, despite the fact that the mere sight of this woman rouses something primal in me—reminds me I’m a man with needs—I’m not about to get involved with her. My traitorous dick might be showing interest, but I never mix business and pleasure. It’s one of my many hard rules. After the exposé done on me, I don’t let anyone get too close. Which means, while I can acknowledge my desire for her, I’m not about to act on it.

  “I thought I’d be taking this trip solo until Grandfather called and said he found someone suitable last-minute.”

  “Yes,” she says, her breasts jutting out a little more as she squares her shoulders. “I’m Khloe.”

  “Khloe,” I say, trying the name out on my tongue. “Have you signed the nondisclosure agreement, Khloe?”

  Her eyes drop to my mouth when I repeat her name. Is she, too, wondering how it would sound on my lips if she were in my bed, beneath me?

  Cool it, Will. She’s an employee, and that makes her hands-off.

  “Yes, at James’s house,” she says quickly. “He has a copy. We both do.” She taps the big bag slung over her slender shoulders.

  I eye her for a moment, and with a lift of her chin, she stares back unflinchingly. There’s no denying that she’s different from the women who normally travel as my assistant. Most don’t look me in the eye, and are all fidgety and nervous around me. It’s rather irritating. This woman, however, has a confidence about her and doesn’t look like she’d put up with any kind of bullshit, especially from me. Which begs the question—why did Granddad hire her? It’s not that I’m a complete asshole, although I’ve been called that and worse a time or two. It’s just that I’m careful and private, a guy who likes things done in a certain way, and most importantly, a guy who trusts no one.

  “I don’t tolerate tardiness, and I certainly expect my employees to dress in a certain way. There are rules.”

  Her teeth clench with an audible click, and I can almost hear her brain spinning as a violent streak of pink colors her cheeks. If I had to guess, she’s about to tell me where to shove my rules. Either that or she’s contemplating which foot to use to kick me in the nuts. It’s rather odd how I find her reactions amusing. But I can’t give that any more consideration. No, not when she’s smoothing her hand over her mess of hair and arousing my dick all over again.

  “I’m well aware you have rules, and while your grandfather mentioned that you expect those in your employment to dress a certain way, I assumed for travel...” She pauses and runs her hands down the length of her body, and my eyes follow in appreciation. “I assumed that this would be more comfortable for the long flight.” She takes a breath, lets it out slowly, and I grin as she works fervently to tamp down a flash of temper. I’m pretty good at reading people, and my gut tells me those weren’t the words she wanted to throw my way. This woman is becoming more intriguing by the moment. “When we reach our destination, I’ll be sure to dress appropriately.”

  “Very well. You should settle yourself in for takeoff, and once we’re in the air, I’d like a brandy.”

  Her head rears back at my request, and instead of sitting, she stares at me, mouth dropped open, like I’ve grown a second head.

  “Wait, what?” she asks, then glances around the private jet.

  I’m not sure who or what she’s looking for, but her attention returns to me when I say, “A brandy. Is that a problem?”

  “No... I just...”

  I take in her narrowing eyes and tightening mouth and can’t shake the feeling that something about her is...off. Granddad is pretty particular when it comes to my assistants. Then again, he’s not getting any younger, and I do worry about him. Can I still trust his judgment?

  “My grandfather explained your duties, did he not?”

  “I...” She briefly looks down, her dark eyes stormy. A second later, her head lifts and she shakes her wavy hair back, her composure returning. “Yes, of course.”

  “Then you know you’ll be running errands, cooking, cleaning, taking care of my needs while in the air and at my beach house.”

  “Yes. Right. Exactly. Your needs. I’ll get you a brandy as soon as we’re in the air.”

  “Please, have a seat so we can take off.” I gesture to the leather recliner across from me, and she quickly lowers herself and buckles in.

  The copilot secures the cabin door, and I give him the all-clear nod before he disappears into the cockpit. My attention travels back to Khloe. Her gaze flits to the window, then to the magazines and newspapers flared out on the round table between us. Brows angrily squashed together, her hand goes to her stomach, and her fingers splay.

  “Are you a nervous flyer?”

  “No, I’ve just never flown in a private jet before.” She smiles, but it’s forced. “It’s nice.”

  “Help yourself to something to read,” I say. She shakes her head and pulls what looks like a hard-covered journal from her bag. I go back to reading my paper, but every few seconds I glance over the top, curious about the woman my grandfather hired. She’s young and fresh-faced, but there’s a light of intelligence and experience in her eyes—unlike the recently graduated college girls who normally sign up at the agency.

  I never delve into the personal, and I’m about to ask her what she does, or rather did, for a living, and why she is no longer employed, but my buzzing cell phone draws my attention. I tug it from my suit jacket and slide my finger across the screen.

  “Hey, Jules,” I say, and don’t miss the way Khloe’s eyes lift and travel to mine. They latch on briefly, hold for a second too long, then she goes back to the pages of her journal as if uninterested. My niece begins to talk a mile a minute. While I love and miss her, I have no idea how my cousin Tate and his wife, Summer, stay sane. “No, I can’t come over tonight. I’m going to Saint Thomas. Remember I told you that the other night.” She jabbers on some more, and I can’t help but smile when I hear Summer in the background, telling her to slow down. “Of course I’ll be back for your birthday party, and no, I’m not telling you what I got for you. You’re really going to like it, though.”

  Summer takes the phone. “You tease.”

  I laugh at that, but it’s true. I am a tease. I’ve been known to push buttons as well.

  “Hey, be nice.” I steal another glance at Khloe, who’s looking out the window and feigning disinterest in my conversation. How would she react if I pushed her buttons? She didn’t like it when I reprimanded her for her tardiness or her clothes, and I can’t deny that I enjoyed that quick flash of anger in her eyes. What would she do or say if I fueled that fury?

  “You promise you’ll be back for her party?” Summer asks.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I love hanging out with Jules and spoiling her. I used to want kids of my own, thought I’d have them with Naomi, until I fucked everything up between us. Jesus, I have no idea how I got so drunk at my party and found m
yself in bed with another woman. What kind of guy pulls a shitty stunt like that, anyway? Not one worth marrying, that’s for sure. I thought I was different from the generation of men who’d come before me. All of them had been unfaithful. I prided myself on my ability to engage in monogamous relationships, but I guess after a few drinks, my true colors had come through. I’d never meant to hurt Naomi—I’d loved her, for Christ’s sake. But at the end of the day, she’s better off without a bastard like me in her life.

  I talk to Summer for a few more minutes, and hint at Granddad’s old age. I am worried about the man’s judgement. As a doctor and Granddad’s former aide, Summer assures me he’s well and fine. We’re well into the air by the time I end the call. I catch Khloe’s eye, take in the pallor of her skin. Perhaps she’s lying about being a nervous flyer. If that’s the case, she never should have agreed to this job. Then again, it pays well, and she might have circumstances I don’t know about. But I’m not about to ask. Her business is hers, mine is mine.

  “Seat belt sign is off,” I say. When she nods, I arch my brow at her, and she looks puzzled for a second.

  “Right, your drink.” She’s quick. Damned if I don’t like that about her.

  She unbuckles and turns to set her journal down on her seat. When she gives me an up close, unobstructed view of her curvy ass, it captivates my cock. Goddammit. It’s all I can do to swallow the groan rising in my throat.

  Jesus.

  She turns to me, and I scrub my hand over my chin. “How would you like your drink? With ice, cola, water?” she asks.

  “Brandy on the rocks,” I say.

  She gives a curt nod and makes her way to the small kitchen area at the rear of the plane. My gaze is latched onto her backside as she walks away, and I shake my head to pull myself together. I’ve been working so goddamn hard lately, long into the nights, developing a new algorithm platform for Carson Management Investments, the hedge fund company I run for Granddad. I’ve forgotten what it was like to crawl into bed with a soft, curvy woman who smells like sweet vanilla.