Under His Obsession

“I...uh...what does he expect his assistant to wear?”

“No worries, your clothing will be supplied.”

“Oh, okay.” A measure of relief washes through me.

“You’ll find a new wardrobe in your closet when you reach your destination.” He glances the length of me, like he’s trying to determine my size. I debate whether I should outright tell him, but in the end, I don’t want to say the number out loud. Honest to God, from the little amount I eat, I should be thinner than I am. But no, my body likes to store every damn calorie I take in. While I’ve come to terms with it, that’s one of the many things my ex-fiancé, Liam, wanted to change about me. Apparently, I didn’t fit in with what was expected of his affluent family. Douchebags. Every last one of them.

“Anything else I should know?”

“You’ll have to sign a nondisclosure agreement. Anything you see or hear cannot be repeated.”

Jeez, the more he talks about Will, the more intrigued I am about the secretive, regimented asshole who provides clothing to his assistants. The same man caught in bed with another woman during his bachelor party. The more I think about it, a man like him getting caught seems rather contradictory to his character. If I hadn’t seen the pictures with my own eyes, I might not have believed it. Will flat on his back, some random girl riding him like he was her own personal pony. It’s rather disgusting that Avery sneaked in and took the pictures.

James sits back in his chair and lifts his head. He riffles through the Polaroids beside him, finds what he’s looking for and hands it to me.

“That’s Will,” he says, but he doesn’t need to tell me. Nor does he need to tell me I’m looking at the hottest guy on the planet. One who can’t keep it in his pants, even when he has a beautiful fiancée.

“Whose wedding?”

“Will’s brother Alec and his beautiful bride, Megan. Married in Saint Moritz near my resort.” Under his breath he says, “Now there’s only one left.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

There’s a new spark in his eyes when he says, “You’re perfect for Will.”

Perfect for Will?

Something feels a little off in the way he phrased that. Then again, he is in his nineties, and perhaps he’s not as sharp as I thought. “You mean I’m the perfect assistant for Will, right?”

“That’s right. Isn’t that what I said?” That spark is back in his eyes, and before I can answer he continues with, “You’ll do it then?”

“I’d never say no to a favor for you, but can I ask how it is a favor for you?”

“Will is a very private man. He hires a new assistant for every trip. He’s not so trustful, you see. Doesn’t let anyone get too close or hang around too long. There is no room for complacency in his world.”

“I can understand that.”

“Every assistant is vetted through my agency, and I’m their last stamp of approval. Unfortunately, no one quite fits what he needs.”

“You think I do?”

“I think you’re perfect. But there is one more thing, Khloe.” He leans toward me. “It’s very important.”

I eye him carefully, not at all sure I like the sound of this. “Okay...”

“I realize you don’t put articles out in your own name at Starlight, but please don’t mention you’re a journalist, or anything about the magazine.”

I’m about to question him on that, but quickly realize why it’s important to keep that information private. Will, undoubtedly, has a deep hatred and distrust for reporters after the exposé done on him. “I don’t like to lie.”

“It’s not a lie. It’s just not something he needs to know.”

“Why hire me if he hates reporters? I’m sure there must be at least one temp at the agency who could give him what he needs.”

“Not the way you can. Now you’d better get a move on—his plane leaves in a couple hours.”

When I catch what looks like mischief in his cloudy eyes, unease trickles through me. While I’m certain James would never steer me wrong, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to go down the rabbit hole and not come out the same.

CHAPTER TWO

Will

AT THE SOUND of hurried footsteps on the metal stairs of Granddad’s Learjet, I lift my eyes and say, “You’re late.”

“Excuse me?”

I take in the breathless woman glaring at me. Damn, if looks could kill...

I sit up a little straighter, fold the newspaper I’d been reading and carefully set it on my lap.

“I said, you’re late.”

One hand planted on her hip and one foot tapping restlessly, she says, “I do apologize,” her dark brown eyes flaring hot. “I’m usually punctual, but not only did I have little time to prepare for this trip, traffic was horrible, and my driver was a maniac. I’m lucky I made it here alive.”

“You didn’t use Granddad’s driver?”

“No. I left from home and didn’t see the need for him to backtrack to pick me up.”

I raise my brows. “That’s what his service is for.”

“I just didn’t want to put anyone out,” she says, and it surprises me, considering most temps love to ride in Granddad’s limo.

She rakes agitated fingers through a mess of wavy chestnut hair, her chest rising and falling as if she’s been running. Her tight yoga pants hug her curvy hips like a second skin, and the relaxed V-neck T-shirt she’s wearing showcases an abundance of creamy cleavage. Something inside me twitches at the sexy sight and reminds me I haven’t been with a woman in far too long.

Nevertheless, despite the fact that the mere sight of this woman rouses something primal in me—reminds me I’m a man with needs—I’m not about to get involved with her. My traitorous dick might be showing interest, but I never mix business and pleasure. It’s one of my many hard rules. After the exposé done on me, I don’t let anyone get too close. Which means, while I can acknowledge my desire for her, I’m not about to act on it.

“I thought I’d be taking this trip solo until Grandfather called and said he found someone suitable last-minute.”

“Yes,” she says, her breasts jutting out a little more as she squares her shoulders. “I’m Khloe.”

“Khloe,” I say, trying the name out on my tongue. “Have you signed the nondisclosure agreement, Khloe?”

Her eyes drop to my mouth when I repeat her name. Is she, too, wondering how it would sound on my lips if she were in my bed, beneath me?

Cool it, Will. She’s an employee, and that makes her hands-off.

“Yes, at James’s house,” she says quickly. “He has a copy. We both do.” She taps the big bag slung over her slender shoulders.

I eye her for a moment, and with a lift of her chin, she stares back unflinchingly. There’s no denying that she’s different from the women who normally travel as my assistant. Most don’t look me in the eye, and are all fidgety and nervous around me. It’s rather irritating. This woman, however, has a confidence about her and doesn’t look like she’d put up with any kind of bullshit, especially from me. Which begs the question—why did Granddad hire her? It’s not that I’m a complete asshole, although I’ve been called that and worse a time or two. It’s just that I’m careful and private, a guy who likes things done in a certain way, and most importantly, a guy who trusts no one.

“I don’t tolerate tardiness, and I certainly expect my employees to dress in a certain way. There are rules.”

Her teeth clench with an audible click, and I can almost hear her brain spinning as a violent streak of pink colors her cheeks. If I had to guess, she’s about to tell me where to shove my rules. Either that or she’s contemplating which foot to use to kick me in the nuts. It’s rather odd how I find her reactions amusing. But I can’t give that any more consideration. No, not when she’s smoothing her hand over her mess of hair and arousing my dick all over again.

“I’m well aware you have rules, and while your grandfather mentioned that you expect those in your employment to dress a certain way, I assumed for travel...” She pauses and runs her hands down the length of her body, and my eyes follow in appreciation. “I assumed that this would be more comfortable for the long flight.” She takes a breath, lets it out slowly, and I grin as she works fervently to tamp down a flash of temper. I’m pretty good at reading people, and my gut tells me those weren’t the words she wanted to throw my way. This woman is becoming more intriguing by the moment. “When we reach our destination, I’ll be sure to dress appropriately.”

“Very well. You should settle yourself in for takeoff, and once we’re in the air, I’d like a brandy.”

Her head rears back at my request, and instead of sitting, she stares at me, mouth dropped open, like I’ve grown a second head.

“Wait, what?” she asks, then glances around the private jet.

I’m not sure who or what she’s looking for, but her attention returns to me when I say, “A brandy. Is that a problem?”

“No... I just...”

I take in her narrowing eyes and tightening mouth and can’t shake the feeling that something about her is...off. Granddad is pretty particular when it comes to my assistants. Then again, he’s not getting any younger, and I do worry about him. Can I still trust his judgment?

“My grandfather explained your duties, did he not?”

“I...” She briefly looks down, her dark eyes stormy. A second later, her head lifts and she shakes her wavy hair back, her composure returning. “Yes, of course.”

“Then you know you’ll be running errands, cooking, cleaning, taking care of my needs while in the air and at my beach house.”

“Yes. Right. Exactly. Your needs. I’ll get you a brandy as soon as we’re in the air.”

“Please, have a seat so we can take off.” I gesture to the leather recliner across from me, and she quickly lowers herself and buckles in.

The copilot secures the cabin door, and I give him the all-clear nod before he disappears into the cockpit. My attention travels back to Khloe. Her gaze flits to the window, then to the magazines and newspapers flared out on the round table between us. Brows angrily squashed together, her hand goes to her stomach, and her fingers splay.

“Are you a nervous flyer?”

“No, I’ve just never flown in a private jet before.” She smiles, but it’s forced. “It’s nice.”

“Help yourself to something to read,” I say. She shakes her head and pulls what looks like a hard-covered journal from her bag. I go back to reading my paper, but every few seconds I glance over the top, curious about the woman my grandfather hired. She’s young and fresh-faced, but there’s a light of intelligence and experience in her eyes—unlike the recently graduated college girls who normally sign up at the agency.

I never delve into the personal, and I’m about to ask her what she does, or rather did, for a living, and why she is no longer employed, but my buzzing cell phone draws my attention. I tug it from my suit jacket and slide my finger across the screen.

“Hey, Jules,” I say, and don’t miss the way Khloe’s eyes lift and travel to mine. They latch on briefly, hold for a second too long, then she goes back to the pages of her journal as if uninterested. My niece begins to talk a mile a minute. While I love and miss her, I have no idea how my cousin Tate and his wife, Summer, stay sane. “No, I can’t come over tonight. I’m going to Saint Thomas. Remember I told you that the other night.” She jabbers on some more, and I can’t help but smile when I hear Summer in the background, telling her to slow down. “Of course I’ll be back for your birthday party, and no, I’m not telling you what I got for you. You’re really going to like it, though.”

Summer takes the phone. “You tease.”

I laugh at that, but it’s true. I am a tease. I’ve been known to push buttons as well.

“Hey, be nice.” I steal another glance at Khloe, who’s looking out the window and feigning disinterest in my conversation. How would she react if I pushed her buttons? She didn’t like it when I reprimanded her for her tardiness or her clothes, and I can’t deny that I enjoyed that quick flash of anger in her eyes. What would she do or say if I fueled that fury?

“You promise you’ll be back for her party?” Summer asks.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I love hanging out with Jules and spoiling her. I used to want kids of my own, thought I’d have them with Naomi, until I fucked everything up between us. Jesus, I have no idea how I got so drunk at my party and found myself in bed with another woman. What kind of guy pulls a shitty stunt like that, anyway? Not one worth marrying, that’s for sure. I thought I was different from the generation of men who’d come before me. All of them had been unfaithful. I prided myself on my ability to engage in monogamous relationships, but I guess after a few drinks, my true colors had come through. I’d never meant to hurt Naomi—I’d loved her, for Christ’s sake. But at the end of the day, she’s better off without a bastard like me in her life.

I talk to Summer for a few more minutes, and hint at Granddad’s old age. I am worried about the man’s judgement. As a doctor and Granddad’s former aide, Summer assures me he’s well and fine. We’re well into the air by the time I end the call. I catch Khloe’s eye, take in the pallor of her skin. Perhaps she’s lying about being a nervous flyer. If that’s the case, she never should have agreed to this job. Then again, it pays well, and she might have circumstances I don’t know about. But I’m not about to ask. Her business is hers, mine is mine.

“Seat belt sign is off,” I say. When she nods, I arch my brow at her, and she looks puzzled for a second.

“Right, your drink.” She’s quick. Damned if I don’t like that about her.

She unbuckles and turns to set her journal down on her seat. When she gives me an up close, unobstructed view of her curvy ass, it captivates my cock. Goddammit. It’s all I can do to swallow the groan rising in my throat.

Jesus.

She turns to me, and I scrub my hand over my chin. “How would you like your drink? With ice, cola, water?” she asks.

“Brandy on the rocks,” I say.

She gives a curt nod and makes her way to the small kitchen area at the rear of the plane. My gaze is latched onto her backside as she walks away, and I shake my head to pull myself together. I’ve been working so goddamn hard lately, long into the nights, developing a new algorithm platform for Carson Management Investments, the hedge fund company I run for Granddad. I’ve forgotten what it was like to crawl into bed with a soft, curvy woman who smells like sweet vanilla.

I turn back to the newspaper, and while my focus is usually laser sharp, the clanging at the back of the plane pulls my attention. What the hell is she doing back there, busting the place up? Something falls and smashes, followed by a round of muted curses. I unbuckle to see what the hell is going on. Khloe has her back to me as I walk toward her, and I’m about to look over her shoulder when I reach her. But she turns at that exact moment, and the large glass of brandy in her hand hits my chest, soaking us both.

“Dammit,” she says, and tries to jump away, but with the counter digging into her back she has nowhere to go. I, on the other hand, have plenty of room behind me. So why aren’t I distancing myself, putting a measure of space between our vibrating bodies?

My dick twitches.

Ah yes, and therein lies the answer.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Carson,” Khloe says.

“It’s Will,” I grumble.

Back arched, she fishes a cloth off the counter and dabs it to my chest. Tension arcs between us, sizzling down the length of our too-close bodies. I haven’t felt this kind of arousal in a long time. It’s definitely not something that comes along every day.

I slip off my suit jacket and work the buttons on my shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting changed. I’d rather not spend the next four hours in a wet shirt.”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

“Do you have a change of clothes?” I ask.

“Someone on the ground put my luggage in the outside baggage compartment.”

With only a breath of distance between us, I peel my shirt off and take the cloth from her. I mop the brandy from my chest, and a strange little squeaking sound rises in Khloe’s throat.

“You okay?”

She blinks twice, rips her focus from my chest and straight-up asks, “I suppose you’re firing me for this?”

My attention drifts from her eyes to her mouth as she drives her teeth into her bottom lip. “You think I’d fire you for something as trivial as this?”

“I heard things about you.”

I let loose a laugh and shake my head. “What’s the latest I’m being called, Khloe? Asshole?”

A grin flirts with her lips as her eyes cut to me. “Well, maybe.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” I say.

I hand the cloth back to her and step away to grab a clean shirt from my bag. I pull my case from the overhead bin and take out a dress shirt and T-shirt. Khloe still hasn’t moved from her spot.

“Which would you prefer?” I ask.

“Both will probably float on me.” She shrugs. “But I guess I can tie the dress shirt at the waist.”

“Dress shirt it is,” I say, and tug on the T-shirt as I move to the back of the plane to hand the button-down over. Her fingers curl around it, and she glares at me as I stand there.

“Do you mind?” she finally blurts out.

“Mind what?”

“I’m not about to get half-naked in front of you. I don’t even know you.”

“Are you saying if you knew me, you’d get half-naked?” I ask, and keep the smile from my face as her cheeks flame red. Look at that. I guess now I do know how she’ll react when I push her buttons. Truthfully though, I shouldn’t be teasing her.

“Either turn around or point to the bathroom so I can change.”

I jerk my head to the left. “Bathroom’s right there.”

She slides past me, her warm body brushing mine, and her sweet vanilla scent reaches my nostrils.

“What do you like to drink?” I ask, switching focus.

She turns back to me. “I’m easy.”

That makes me smile, because I don’t get the sense that anything about her is easy.

“But leave it. It’s my job. I’ll fix us both a drink after I change.”

“And I can fix us both one while you change.”

She eyes me like she doesn’t know what to make of that. “Fine, I’ll just have what you’re having then.”

“Brandy on the shirt?” Her eyes widen at the joke. “See, not always an asshole,” I say, and turn my attention to making the drinks. I reach for two tumblers and add a splash of brandy to both. I take a sip of mine as I head back to my seat. Newspaper back in hand, I begin to read again. My mind drifts to the real reason I’m headed to Saint Thomas. While I have a home there and plan to work on my algorithms, I need to check on Granddad’s luxury hotel. It was destroyed by hurricanes, and a lot of people were out of work because of it. It’s back up and running now, and I want to make sure everything is proceeding smoothly. I also need to work on staffing for Leonard Elementary, the school we’re building to replace the old moldy one. As I consider that, I realize Khloe hasn’t returned to her seat. What the hell is she doing in that bathroom? I check my watch. Christ, she’s been in there for a good twenty minutes.

Pushing from my seat, I go to the door and knock. “Khloe, is everything okay?”

“Uh, just not sure about this shirt.”

“You’d prefer the T-shirt?” I ask, and reach over my shoulder, about to peel it off.

“No, that won’t help either.”

“Come out here. Tell me what’s going on,” I demand. A second passes, and the sign on the door finally changes from Occupied to Vacant. Her damp T-shirt is balled up in her hands, and she’s pressing it hard against her chest as she steps from the lavatory.

“I had to remove my bra,” she says, “and this shirt is white.”

“All my shirts are white. So are my T-shirts.”

“That’s why I said nothing you have will help.”

“Help with what?” I ask, and when her chest heaves, understanding dawns. She’s worried her nipples are going to be visible. But now that I’m thinking about her nipples... Shit, that’s a distraction I don’t need. “Hang on.” I open the overhead compartment again and pull out a blue blanket. “This should help.”

For the first time since she boarded the plane, a smile makes an appearance, and something inside me twists. “Thanks, Will.” She adjusts the blanket over her shoulders, and my gaze drops to take in a hint of pink brushing against the fabric before it’s hidden from my view.

Jesus.

Her body is ripe and lush, and my hands itch to slide down her back and grab a fistful of her sweet ass. Not only is she different from the young, fresh-out-of-college girls who do temp work for me, she’s the opposite of the rail-thin women in my social circle. I loved Naomi, but she needed to eat more than a salad. No matter how much I encouraged it, she always refused.

I clear my throat. “When we land, I’ll get your bag, and you can change before you deplane.”

I wave my hand for her to sit, and she tightens the blanket around her shoulders as she hurries to her seat. I follow, all the while admiring her curves. As she settles herself, I wonder what her story is. Married? Single? Boyfriend? Then again, it’s none of my business. Still, I might ask Granddad how he found her and why he thought she was a good choice. I hand her drink over, and she takes a sip, her skin paling even more. Something buzzes in the back of my brain, something just out of reach as my gaze rakes over her white face.

“Do I know you?”

CHAPTER THREE

Khloe

“AH, I’M NOT SURE,” I say, the cold pizza I’d eaten for breakfast threatening to rise up and make a second appearance. I thought I was nauseous from my ordeal at Starlight this morning. Now I think I might be coming down with something. Either that, or I shouldn’t have eaten that leftover slice sitting on the kitchen counter all night.

Will’s eyes narrow in on me. “Khloe,” he says, and the way he says my name, like he’s savoring it, does the weirdest things to my insides. Then again...leftover sausage pizza.

He sits forward, and I catch a hint of his aftershave. Sandalwood, beach and... Will. I inhale slowly. That scent could magically melt the panties right off a woman. I’m pretty sure mine are currently on fire. Honestly, if someone bottled it and called it Panties Be Gone they’d make a fortune.

Strength and power radiate from Will’s hard body as he inches closer, his long legs stretched out before him. I do my best not to envision them wrapped around my body.

Sometimes my best just isn’t good enough.

“I think I might know you,” he says.

“You...think?” I ask, trying to focus on what he’s saying to me.

“Is your last name Davis?”

Oh, God, he knows. He knows I’m Khloe Davis, sensationalized crime reporter from Starlight. He’s liable to open the deck door and toss me out mid-flight. But I don’t think that’s possible at our flying altitude. At least I hope not. I gulp, and the world spins around me.

“Yes, it is,” I manage to get out as bile punches into my throat. I’m not sure if it’s from his revelation or my upset stomach. Either way, this isn’t good. Not good at all. James wanted to keep my identity a secret, and this man hates reporters.

“Your father used to work for my granddad, right?”

“He did,” I say quickly and realize there is no way he could put it together since I use a pen name. A wave of relief hits me, but it’s short-lived. I take a few deep breaths as an invisible fist grips my tightening throat.

“You were in the car that day Granddad picked me up from swimming lessons.”

“That was you?”

“Yeah, and you were as pale then as you are now.”

“I...I had the chicken pox.”

Don’t get sick, Khloe. Don’t get sick.

“Right, I remember.” Alarm widens his eyes. “Wait, you don’t have them again, do you?”