Page 17 of Shark’s Edge

“And your boy Blake doesn’t?”

“Point for the redhead. But—I don’t know how to explain this.” She hummed in the back of her throat. “There was a gleam in Shark’s eyes when he talked about you . . . ”

Somehow, I managed a dismissive pffft—for myself as much as her. “He’s like that about everyone, Rio. He’s passionate.”

She pffft right back. “You can say that again. But not about everyone.”

“I’m serious.”

“I am too.” She subjected me to her exasperated sighs as she banged around in the background. “All right, just tell me this, then. Why don’t we have all this extra drama when servicing Viktor Blake’s office?”

I started my incensed groan before she was finished. “Are you even kidding me right—”

“What? They’re in the same business, they’re about the same age, and their offices are only three blocks from each other.”

“And one of them is starting to creep me out.”

“Huh? What?”

“Not important.”

I didn’t want to think about explaining myself right now. I was already obsessed with steeling myself for the return to downtown—and handling the dread that was mounting along with it.

My anxiety got worse during the night and then doubled down on itself during the next morning’s meal prep at the kitchen. It got three times worse as I rolled up in front of the sleek lobby of the building I’d last entered four days ago.

Days that felt like centuries.

I’d traversed enough emotional ground to justify that feeling, too. Accepted the fact that I was a damn schizophrenic about Sebastian Shark. That my mental aggravation by him existed weirdly next to my sexual attraction to him. I couldn’t control how my instincts were hardwired or how they were drawn to the man’s pheromones, harmonic vibrations, stallion legs, or chakras. Whatever. I didn’t care what it was. I was just grateful to be aware of it.

That meant I was a huge step closer to controlling it.

Which led to my ultimate decision about how to work him.

I’d simply stay on neutral ground.

Enlightened but not engaged. Diplomatic but not subservient. Friendly but fair.

Which was why I rode the elevator to the penthouse of the skyscraper with my head held high. My loaded cart was in front of me. Sebastian Shark’s lunch was already prepared and on top. Next to it was his silverware.

Rolled in white linen.

Chapter Four

Sebastian

I pushed back from my desk and rechecked the time. Only twelve minutes had passed since I’d last checked. While I should’ve been disgusted with my schoolboy behavior, the grin on my face told a different story altogether. The dueling reasons for the grin were at such odds, I wasn’t sure which I’d hoped to see come out on top.

Firstly, my cock needed some relief.

Desperately.

It had been too many days since I’d seen Little Red Riding Hood tremble and stumble through my office, giving my spank bank fodder. While at the same time, I hoped like hell she wouldn’t show. Because the uneven footing I felt beneath my soles because of her, just the thought of her, was so unfamiliar, exorcizing her seemed like the smartest option.

“Get a grip, man,” I muttered to myself, standing to pace another lap around the penthouse. A light path could be seen in the pile of the carpet, and even that grated on my nerves. Nerves that were akin to live wires the past few days. All the bullshit with the Mansfield case, the stress of running a business the magnitude of Shark Enterprises, and the launch of a project the size of Shark’s Edge were starting to wear me down. Not that I would ever admit weakness of any sort. To anyone.

Maybe I needed to give LuLu a call and set something up with one of my regulars. Who was I kidding? None of her girls would come close to taking the edge off my need now that the green-eyed pixie was so deeply under my skin. There was only one red length of hair I needed to wrap around my fist now.

A knock on my door pulled me up short as I paced along the far side of the office near the conference room table. The very same table I’d presided over the last time I’d seen Abbigail dash out of my office.