The Takeover (The Miles High Club #2)(38)

“Tristan.” I laugh as I push him off me. “You gave me an option: France or my desk. I took France. You don’t get the desk. Now you need to go.”

He stares at me for a moment. “You’re actually serious about this?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to see me ever again?” He frowns.

“No.”

His mouth falls open. He really is shocked. “But we had the best weekend.”

“I know. It completely sucks that you’re a soul-sucking bastard player.” I turn him and push him toward the door. “Now, I need to work.”

He chuckles, amused at my description. “This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” He smirks.

I laugh and keep pushing him toward the door.

“You’re missing out on some magical dick.” He grabs his crotch.

“Undoubtedly.”

We get to the door, and he turns toward me. We stare at each other for a moment, and he steps forward and pins me to the door. He grabs my face in his hands, and his tongue swipes through my open lips. My knees weaken, and he grinds his hard cock up against me. He turns my head and puts his mouth to my ear. “Guess what, Anderson?” he whispers.

“What?” I smile.

“We’re not over . . . till . . . I say we’re over.”

He pulls off me and leaves. The door clicks, and my chest rises and falls as I stare at the back of it. A broad smile crosses my face.

Tristan fucking Miles.

I sit back down at my desk and get back to work, and five minutes later my door bursts open. “Are you serious?” Marley gasps as she closes it behind her. “What the fuck did I just see?” she whispers.

“Nothing.” I open my email. “Forget you saw it.”

“Claire Anderson. I demand to know what the hell is going on with that god.”

“He’s not a god. He’s just a random guy.” I hit my keyboard with force. Who am I kidding? He’s totally a god.

“And so how did it go from hating his guts to him groping you in your office?”

I continue typing. I can’t even look at her. “He may have been in France.”

“No way,” she says.

“We may have . . . hooked up.”

“Holy hell.” She puts both of her hands in her hair.

“A little bit.”

“Ahh . . . get the fuck out of here,” she cries. “Are you frigging kidding me?”

“I wish I was.”

“What happened?” she whispers as she leans in. “I need all the details.”

There’s a knock at the door. “Yes?” I call.

An employee named Alexander pokes his head around. “Don’t forget we have that meeting in five minutes.”

“Oh.” My face falls. I completely forgot all about it. “Yes, of course. See you in the conference room.”

Alexander closes the door, and I turn to Marley, who is waiting patiently for the details. “I don’t want to talk about it here. Let’s finish work early today and go to a bar for a staff meeting.”

She smiles mischievously. “Yes. We need to discuss Miles Media in great detail.”

Marley sits down at the bench table and puts my glass of wine in front of me. The bar is crowded and bustling with a four-o’clock rush. It seems everyone wants a drink before they head home.

I sip my wine, and Marley stares at me. “And?”

“And what?”

“Don’t you hold out on me, Claire Anderson. I need all the fucking details.”

I drag my hand down my face. “God, Marley,” I whisper. “It was like a movie.”

She listens intently.

“I got to the conference, and he was the opening speaker. I went to walk out, and he said, ‘Claire Anderson, sit back down.’”

Her eyes widen.

“Then we had banter for a few days, and I was still hating him. But surprisingly, he’s witty and funny.”

“I knew he would be,” she interrupts. “Smart guys are always witty.”

“Anyway, one night on the way back from dinner, he kissed me.”

She holds her hands up and dances on her chair.

“He wanted to come back to my room, and I said no and locked him out.”

“You idiot,” she gasps. “Are you fucking crazy? Have you seen the level of hotness of that guy?”

I raise my eyebrows and smirk.

Her mouth falls open. “Don’t tell me.”

“Yep.”

“And?” she gasps.

“Off-the-hook hot,” I whisper.

She grabs my arm and squeezes it hard. “You had sex . . . with Tristan fucking Miles?”

“Shh, keep your voice down,” I whisper as I look around at the people surrounding us. “Yes. A lot of sex. In fact, I fucked his brains out.”

She puts both hands over her mouth in shock. “What the hell, Claire?”

“I know.” I sip my wine. “But then he came into the conference and said that he had to leave unexpectedly and said goodbye to the group and didn’t say goodbye to me.”

She frowns. “What? I’m confused . . .”

“But then I got back to my room, and there were red roses and a card asking me to go to Paris for the weekend with him.”