Gia strode through the open-plan office area. Phones were ringing, keyboards clacking, and several people surrounded a whiteboard, having a spirited debate.
Ah, yes, she loved her work.
She neared her corner office, and outside, her assistant Ashley Wu rose from her desk. She was two years older than Gia, with the long lean body of a dancer. She was also the most organized woman on the planet.
“Morning.” Ashley held out a takeout coffee cup.
“I knew there was a reason I employed you.” Gia sipped and groaned.
“Late night?” Ashley’s long, dark hair was black at the top, but slowly changed colors to a silver-pink at the ends.
“Rough night,” Gia corrected. “Caffeine will be my God today.”
“How was the gala?”
“Great.”
Ashley lifted a newspaper off her desk. “Uneventful?”
Gia saw the headline. Shootout at Museum Charity Gala.
“Hmm.” Gia drank some more coffee.
“It says that a woman in a gorgeous blue Alberta Ferretti dress and a man pulled guns and fired on each other.”
Oh, crap. “Really?”
“Gia, I helped you pick out that dress. I’m guessing Easton pulled a ton of strings for your name not to be in here.” Ashley stabbed the paper.
“My brothers handled it.”
Ashley got a dreamy, faraway look on her face.
“Ash?”
“Sorry, just a little daydream about your brothers handling me. All three of them, at the same time.”
“Ew, stop fantasizing about my brothers.” Gia had suffered her entire life having three hot brothers. “And Rhys is taken now.”
“I hate Haven,” Ashley said good-naturedly. “That lucky bitch.”
Smiling, Gia crossed to her office.
It was airy, elegant, with pops of color. The windows at one end let in lots of light. Behind her wide, pale-wood desk she had built in shelves that flanked a colorful painting done in splatters of pink, yellow, blue, and green. Two comfy, yet stylish, white guest chairs sat in front of her desk. At the other end of the space was a sleek, feminine chesterfield sofa with lots of colorful pillows.
She dumped her bag on her desk. “I don’t want to talk about the museum. Everything is fine.”
Ashley’s nose wrinkled.
Gia raised a brow. “Okay, what have we got today?”
“Meetings, meetings, and more meetings.” Ever efficient, Ashley lifted her tablet. “You have a nine AM call about the Rivera account. Potential new client coming in at ten. She’s expanding her chain of sports bars and wants a full workup for the launch and branding. Eleven AM, team workshop. And then you have a lunch meeting.” Ashley winced.
Gia sat. “With?”
“Neil Robinson.”
Now Gia groaned. She’d had one meeting with Robinson. He was an up-and-coming businessman, and he’d asked her out about thirty times during that meeting. She’d told him no, repeatedly, and stressed that she didn’t date clients. For the next meeting, he’d demanded a dinner meet, but she’d managed to talk him into lunch.
“Do we really need his account?” Ashley asked.
“I can handle him.”
Gia’s morning was a whirlwind. She thrived on it. She loved working with people. She loved solving problems. She loved being productive.
At 12:25, she walked into the EPIC Steak restaurant on the waterfront in the Embarcadero. The place had great food, lots of leather and industrial-metal accents, and a killer view.
Neil Robinson rose from a table near the windows, the Bay Bridge behind him, and a wide smile on his face.
He was handsome, in a clean-cut way—maybe six feet tall, with a trim body that he clearly kept in shape. But Gia spent time with men who kept in military shape. She had a secret obsession with powerful thighs, hard abs, and brawny arms. Not to mention a little ink.
Pretty and glossy didn’t really do much for her unless it came with an edge.
“Gia, a pleasure. You look beautiful.”
Ugh. Neil just couldn’t get “business meeting” into his head.
“Neil.”
She sat and he took the seat beside her. “I’ll get you a drink. Wine?”
“I don’t drink at business meetings.”
His smile faltered, then reformed. “Oh, but this is business and pleasure.”
“I’ll have a soda with a twist of lime, please.”
He didn’t look happy, but he passed her order onto the waitress.
“So, let’s get down to business,” Gia said.
Neil smiled, and under the table, he put his hand on her thigh.
She kept her face bland, and shifted his hand away. This was going to be a long, annoying lunch.
* * *
Saxon strode toward the double-door entrance to EPIC Steak.
Gia’s assistant had told him where to find her. He scowled. She should have stayed at her office. He’d arrived at her apartment this morning, and tailed her and her driver to her office.
Vander had sent a pretty strong message to Dennett to stay away from Gia. But until Willow returned the gems, or Dennett confirmed he was no longer targeting Gia, Saxon wouldn’t consider her safe.
A statuesque brunette walked past him and shot him a lingering look.
He ignored her and moved on. He’d spent his morning digging up dirt on Kyle Dennett. He didn’t like what he was finding.
Norcross Security operated on both sides of the legal line. Occasionally, they had to work with scum to get the info they needed to get a job done successfully. Saxon had no qualms about dipping his toe into the gray. His time in the military, especially in Ghost Ops, had taught him that right and wrong could get pretty fucking subjective in shitty situations. He had his own code, and he followed it.
“Saxon.”
The cool, female voice made him fight back a sigh. He glanced up at the woman who’d just exited the restaurant. “Mother.”
Tall, impossibly thin, and decked out in Chanel, his mother looked ten years younger than she was. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled an inch above her shoulders.
She eyed his rolled-up sleeves and ink with distaste. “I just finished lunch with friends from the country club. What are you doing here?”
It was Monday, what did she think he was doing? “I’m working.”
Her nose wrinkled.
Saxon knew she was about to launch into a tirade. His parents made it very clear how they felt about him working, especially in security.
No, they’d much rather he skimmed off his trust fund, married a socialite, and did nothing.
“Sorry, Mother, I’m busy. I have to go.” He dutifully kissed her cheek. “You look fabulous, as always.”
Vanessa Buchanan had a killer plastic surgeon.
“Very well. You should come for dinner sometime.”
At that loving, heartfelt invitation, he nodded and pushed through the doors.
At the hostess desk, a stylishly dressed redhead in her twenties shot him a welcoming smile. “Hello, welcome to EPIC Steak.”
“The Norcross table.”
The woman’s smile dimmed. “They’re seated by the windows, but I believe all the guests have arrived.”
Saxon spotted Gia straightaway. Her curls were tamed up into a twist, exposing her slender neck. So fucking sexy.