It starts to bark more loudly the closer I get to the front door.
“Shut your fucking piehole,” I bark back at it, but it ignores me and increases the volume.
He’s grating on my last nerve by the time I unlock the front door. Then I get another shocker when I yank the door open.
Well, two.
First, country girl that my dick loves is frumpy as fuck, but more gorgeous than I ever thought possible. She’s wearing a thick, light gray oversized sweater over much thicker sweatpants that can fit three more girls her size in there, if she undoes the drawstring hanging past the hem of the sweater and almost to her knees. Except for her long bangs, her thick, wavy, raven locks fall past her shoulders and come to rest close to her waist. As for the bright pink doggy-head bedroom slippers on her feet, well, I’m at a fucking loss. What concerns me the most is that I can tell from the way her clothes fall that she’s a tiny thing with dainty curves under there.
And it’s sexy as fuck.
My dick is having a field day in my pants, and I’m grateful I wore snug briefs today instead of loose boxers, otherwise I’d have to cover a tented midsection by now.
The second surprise, which I realize must be the reason the dog was yelping its head off, is that Gerald Buchannan is standing next to her at my door. The same Gerald Buchannan who kept me up all night negotiating this acquisition deal. He’s the neediest, most high-touch, pain-in-the-ass investor associate of Knights Capital Management Group, the hedge fund company that I run with my older brother, Jace, and our best friends, Caleb, Dylan, and Foster. We only took him on as an associate as a favor to my old man, and because he’s fucking loaded. And by loaded, I mean a fuck ton richer than my father, whose net worth is in the billions.
It’s a shocker seeing him here at my door because he’s not supposed to know where I live. No one except my father, brother and closest friends has this address. Hell, none of my staff know I live here.
“Gerald, I wasn’t expecting you,” I say, trying to keep my cool.
“We need to talk,” he blurts out. “Get rid of her, will you?” He pushes past me, staring down at the dog as he passes it by. “This is important.”
Anger starts to rise up from my chest, and I clench my fists. This girl means nothing to me, but the combination of my exhaustion, Gerald’s unexpected intrusion, and his outright rudeness to her drives me close to the edge.
No one talks to my neighbor like that. No one but me.
Dragging an agitated hand through my hair, I look down into her eyes. “Sorry about that, but he’s right.” I step aside and motion toward her furry friend. Hairy. Whatever. “Keep the puppy on Vivian’s side of the terrace, will you?”
“Sheba’s a full-grown dog,” she nervously informs me. Her fearful eyes locks with mine as she lowers to her knees to scoop up the pooch. Fuck, looking down at her at this new angle drives me close to insanity. Those lips are so fucking close to my cock, I can almost feel her taking me into her mouth. “And I will…keep him away from you…I mean away from your place. I’m sorry.”
“Who are you, anyway?” I ask. The suspense is killing me. I have to know. “Vivian’s cousin or something?”
She shakes her head. “I’m Dahlia,” she says, and extends her right arm for a handshake.
“Hi Dahlia.”
“I’m the dogs’ babysitter. Pet sitter, I mean,” she stammers. “Vivian’s going to be away for a few weeks, so I’m here…for the dogs.”
I want to shake her hand, but if I do, it’ll be game over. If I touch her, I’ll have to have her, and the fact that she’s going to be around for a while means I need to keep my distance. Plus she doesn’t look like she’s done with puberty yet.
“Aren’t you going to screw up your attendance at high school?” I ask the leading question to get a sense of her age.
“No I won’t. I don’t go to high school. I’m at Columbia U.”
Am I making her nervous? Neither of us says another word as she turns and leaves. At least she’s of age.
Maybe.
“Get in here, Jackson.”
Fuck. Gerald is here. Closing the front door, I follow his voice to my living room.
“What’s this about?” I ask. “Have you changed your position since—” I stop speaking to check the time on my phone. “Since thirty minutes ago?”
He takes a seat on my living room sofa and kicking up his feet on my coffee table like he fucking owns the place.
“Of course not,” he grunts.
“Why are you here, Gerald? And who told you where I live?”
His eyebrows furrow together. “Your father. Why? Is this place secret or something? Or does it have to do with the sexy underage waif running wild around here?”
“Forget I asked. Tell me, why did you come by?” I ask in an order, but keep my request more or less in a respectful tone. He’s an associate, after all. And one of my old man’s closest, most well-connected friends.
“We need this contract signed within a week. Two weeks, tops. If I had it my way, it would be signed by end of day tomorrow. My backers aren’t comfortable with your treatment of Mont Blanc, or these new demands. It’s unreasonable. You make sure to get across to the partners that we’re ready to walk away. No more concessions. They need to sign it as is now, or we’re done.”
Pressing my lips together, I take a seat in the armchair opposite from him. “You’re not serious.”
“Of course, I’m not, but these Mont Blanc guys at the table need to know we aren’t stringing them along. We need them. They need us. Make sure you articulate that point when we get back to the table tonight.”
“I’ve been getting that point across for twenty-three hours,” I shout, then I realize he’s slipped in a new piece of information. “Wait, did you say tonight? We’re not meeting again until tomorrow morning at eight.”
“Not anymore,” he informs me, rising from my sofa. “We can’t give them time to shop our deal around with the competition. That would only give them ammo to demand more. I need you at Masa tonight at seven o’clock sharp. We’re taking them to dinner, drinks, then back to the office to keep working to wrap up this deal with a neat little bow. Tonight, if possible.”
I shake my head, but the truth is he’s right. Getting this far has been months in the making. We need to close this deal soon.
“Fine,” I tell him, peeved that this development gives me about four and a half hours to get some rest, shower, dress and drive to the southwest tip of Central Park where Masa restaurant is located. “I’ll be there, but try to remember we’ve been working on this for months. If it takes a few days to wrap it up…or weeks…it’s time well spent.”
“Agreed, but sooner is better.”
Following him to the front door, we say our goodbyes, and I let him out.
As I wait for Gerald to get on an elevator, the scent of little country girl’s vanilla and almond body wash lingers in the air, drawing me in again. She’s left a mark on my brain that I can’t shake. As soon as this deal with Mont Blanc is over and done with, I’ll do something about it.
Like get the hell away from Dahlia before I eat her up and swallow her whole.