Page 2 of Bastard In A Suit

My face goes hot. “I know the product better than the two of you put together.”

“Back off Forrest,” Jake says. “Hailey’s got this.” He smirks a little. “She’s not his type anyway.”

Excuse me?The slight stings, but before I can respond, the boardroom door swings open.

Holy fuck.

He’s even hotter than the pictures suggest.

How is that possible? Pictures are airbrushed, right?

His suit is bespoke, tailored, clearly designed for his tall, muscular frame. His eyes are as dark, smoldering and intense as I could’ve imagined.

My tongue tangles into knots at the realization that his charisma is more powerful than anyone I’ve ever met.

And it’s not even close.

The thing about pictures is that they don’t tell you the whole story. You can’t feel a person’s essence, breathe in their scent, their aura. Duke’s is powerful, commanding. And sexy. Holy hell is he sexy.

He fills the room.

My breath audibly hitches and I’m grateful Forrest knows what to do here.

“Mr. Kingston, thank you for taking time to see—”

But Duke ignores Forrest’s outstretched hand and strides toward the head of the table. My eyes are drawn to the way his slacks cup his firm ass.

Jake scrambles out of the chair when he realizes that he’s sitting in Mr. Kingston’s spot, practically tripping over his own feet. His tablet, paperwork, a half dozen pens fall on to the marbled tile.

Duke sneers at the mess.

Fuck me, we’ve already blown it. We look like kids sitting at the grownups table.

And now I want to slide under the table. Under the whole damn floor.

Duke unbuttons his jacket. A crisp white dress shirt barely fits his broad chest and rippled stomach. I’m drawn to his impressive man V, the muscles lightly visible through the thin material.

I inhale fast and look up, away from his stomach—

And straight into Duke’s eyes as he watches me in return. A slow burn crawls up my throat. It’s like he can see right through me, awakening a part of me that should not be stirred. Not now. Not here.

He gestures toward the table, letting me off the hook momentarily.

“Shall we begin?” he asks, his voice deep and almost melodic.

Forrest clears his throat. “Right. We’ll get started and when the others arrive, we can catch—”

Duke’s eyes cloud with annoyance. His glare is meant for Forrest, but somehow I’m the one trapped in it, unable to look away. The intensity of his gaze slides under my skin.

“There are no others to arrive to this meeting,” he says coolly. “All decisions at Kingston Industries are made by me.”

There’s a finality to his tone that renders us silent. I pull out a chair, cringing as the wheels on the chair squeak noisily.

I sit, cross my legs, uncross them, lower my gaze. Damn it. I should have worn a different blouse. My breasts are practically crawling out of this one, exposing a hell of a lot of cleavage.

Heat crawls up the back of my neck.

Duke leans forward to pour a glass of water from the decanter. His watch glints under the overhead lights—it’s black, diamond-crusted, and clearly not your standard Rolex.