Before I have a chance to fire off more reasons of why Jack should stop being a pussy and go to this meeting, Margo’s voice cuts between us. “I’ll go with you. I am your assistant, after all.”
My eyes widen. The thought of being alone in Vegas, of all fucking places, with this woman, causes my dick to twitch. I can’t be around her that long and not fuck her. It’ll drive me out of my mind.
“That’s a great idea, Margo,” Buchanan chimes in. “You can make sure whoever is getting this company is worthy. It would be nice for you to make a few contacts.”
I hold up my hand. “Wait, just a minute. This is my deal, and I don’t think—”
“It’ll still be your baby,” Margo purrs next to me. “I promise not to interfere in any way. I just want to learn. After all, you’re known around this city for being able to charm the pants off anyone you set your sights on. I think I can learn a lot by watching you in action.”
“Oh, you’ll see me in action, all right.” I purse my lips and cut myself off, not wanting to say crude things to her in front of her father and fuck up this deal.
Fuck.
I sigh while both Margo and her father watch me intently, waiting for me to give in and take the enemy along with me. The information Margo could gain from this trip could be devastating to the deal, but I doubt they’ll be able to negotiate a better deal for Buchanan Industries with Yamada Enterprises. I have nothing to worry about by allowing her to tag along, and it’ll make Buchanan still feel comfortable that he has gained the upper hand on me because his sweet ball-breaking daughter is his little spy.
“Fine,” I concede. “Margo can go, but once we get back, we put this deal to bed. Agreed?”
Buchanan nods. “Agreed. I’ll have my answer for you by then.”
I roll my shoulders and relax a bit in my chair. Spend the weekend with Margo in Sin City—no problem. I can get through this.
Margo
WHY COULDN’T ALEXANDER KING BE a pudgy, fifty-something, bald man with bad breath? It would make it a whole lot easier to pretend that I don’t feel the weight of his stare on me every time I go into his office if he were hideously ugly. As it stands now, it’s hard for my body not to respond to him. It’s like I have this visceral reaction to him whenever I’m in his presence, and that scares the shit out of me.
His advances had backed off a bit from a couple of days ago when I caught the hooker blowing him in his office. Thank God. But I can tell he’s ready to make good on his promise to have me beg him to fuck me. He thinks fucking him will break me—that I’m some little twit who wears her heart on her sleeve—and that pisses me off. He pisses me off.
The countdown to Vegas is on. In just one day, I’ll be on a private plane heading across the country to the biggest adult playground in the world. I don’t know how being alone with him for an entire weekend is going to go. He was probably right. I’ll want to either fuck him or kill him with my own bare hands, but I guess it will be the latter.
“Margo?” Alexander’s voice rings through the intercom sitting on my desk.
“Yes, Mr. King,” I answer with as much professionalism as I can muster.
He quickly rattles off a list of tasks for me. “I need the daily stock report on Buchanan Industries, a dinner reservation for two at Per Se for seven tonight, and my coffee cup is empty.”
Out of all the things that he asks me to do, getting his coffee irritates me the most. Why in the hell do I have to fetch it? Are his legs fucking broken?
I sigh before plastering on a huge smile that will come through in the tone of my voice as I press the speaker button. “Right away, sir.”
The stock report and coffee are the easy things on the list, but securing a table at Per Se took some finagling. After I had disclosed exactly which Mr. King was requesting the table, it went rather smoothly. Seems his name has quite the pull.
I carry the report and coffee into his office. He holds his hand out for the paper as I set the mug on his desk.
I hope he fucking chokes on it.
I begin to turn away, but his voice quickly halts me. “I didn’t dismiss you yet, Margo.”
My nostrils flare as I spin back around to face him. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
Alexander pushes himself out of the chair and smoothes his red tie, attracting my attention to the definition hiding behind that blue buttoned-down dress shirt. I’ve noticed that when he’s working in his office, he removes his jacket. It almost makes him appear casual and more approachable, but I know better. He’s still an uptight asshole with or without the jacket.
He walks around the desk and stops in front of me before leaning back against the expensive-looking mahogany desk. “Are you all prepared for our trip to Vegas?”
I nod. “Yes. I mean, I will be once I finish packing—”
He shakes his head and a strand of dark hair falls across his forehead. My fingers itch to reach up and shove it back into place. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks.
Stop it! You cannot be thinking about touching this man. He is the enemy and a complete asshole. Get a hold of yourself. Don’t allow hormones to take control.
“I don’t mean your personal items, Margo. I meant do you have all of the necessary tasks designated to the support staff to cover in our absence.”
I bite the inside of my lower lip as it occurs to me that doing that hadn’t crossed my mind. “I didn’t think that was necessary since tomorrow is Friday. We’ll be back in the office by Tuesday, so I just planned to return calls then.”