Bad Intentions (The Prescotts Book 4) Read online

  “Did my father put you up to this? Because there’s no way that you’d be asking me to come work for you otherwise.”

  Lucian sighed and sat back in his chair. “Your father asked me to hire you as a favor to him, to help build up your portfolio. He meant well, and it’s not as though you aren’t qualified.”

  “I see. Well, my answer is still no.”

  He studied her, one eyebrow arched. “Is this pride talking? Or is it that you don’t want to work with me?”

  She swallowed, holding his eyes, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. But then she shook her head, ready to deny it despite the streaks of pink slashing across her pretty cheeks. “No, it’s not that.”

  He tilted his head. “Do you trust me to be professional?”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “God, Lucian, I’m not accusing you of…” She trailed off, her eyes darting around the office, landing anywhere but on him. “But I don’t need your charity or favors done for my father. My career is mine and mine alone to worry about.” She sighed heavily and when he didn’t respond, she shrugged. “So, I guess I’ll go back to the party,” she said, starting to rise from the chair. He drank in the way the dress hugged all of her curves, imagined burying his face between those breasts as he slipped a hand between her legs to see just how hot and wet she was for him.

  “Olivia, wait.” At the commanding tone, she froze, and then slowly sank back down into the chair. “If you don’t take this job, your father will know something’s up and start asking questions we probably don’t want to answer. He wants you to have this job, and he wants me to give it to you.”

  “We’re not obligated to do what he wants, you know.”

  “But that’s just it. We are. It makes things so much more complicated if we don’t.” And while Prescott Group was doing well, the last thing he needed was to lose his biggest investor over something as small as one interior design job.

  She bit her lip, staring down at her hands in her lap, clearly mulling over what he’d just said. After a moment, she looked up at him, her head tilted. “It’s a French bistro?”

  He nodded. “On Orchard Street, off of East Houston.”

  She pursed her lips, and this time when her eyes met his, he could see the pent up longing in them, coupled with determination. “I’ll tell you what. I’ve heard good things about the way you treat your employees, and working for you would be a boost to my career. Your company is prestigious and successful. I’ll come by Monday with my portfolio so that you can evaluate my work. And then you’re going to interview at least three other designers—designers you’d actually hire. I don’t want charity. I’m grateful for the opportunity, but I want to earn it. After you’ve interviewed everyone and evaluated the portfolios, then, and only then, should you offer me the job if you truly think I’m the right designer for the project. But I don’t want to be handed a job because my Dad asked you to hire me. No thanks.”

  “Fine. I’ll meet you there Monday morning at 10:30.” If she needed this pretense, he could give her that. It was far simpler than trying to explain to Gavin why hiring Olivia hadn’t worked out.

  She nodded and rose to her feet again. “Okay.” Her eyes roved over his body and she shook her head, sadness creeping in around her mouth. “I shouldn’t, but okay.”

  “This isn’t the situation I would’ve chosen, either.” He’d been trying to commiserate with her, but by the way her features tightened he knew immediately that he’d said the wrong thing. Without another word, she started for the door, her head held high but her shoulders tight, her body language stiff.

  “Olivia. We’re not done.”

  She whirled. “I thought we were.” Her words hung heavy in the room, weighty with meaning.

  “I’m not talking about us right now. But I do want to talk about you. Sit. Please,” he added when she just stood there, arms crossed over her chest. Some of the tightness left her face and she sank gracefully back down into the chair. The way she obeyed him when he bossed her around made him wonder if she’d be as compliant in bed. Immediately, his mind was filled with filthy commands.

  Olivia, wrap your lips around me and suck my cock until I come all over your tongue.

  Olivia, sit on my face so I can eat that sweet little pussy.

  Olivia, look at me while I fuck you.

  “What about me?” she asked, sitting back and crossing her legs, ripping him back to the present.

  “Tell me about Massimo.” The name tasted like sawdust in his mouth, and he felt something just a bit short of murderous rage at the thought of another man touching her. Kissing her. Inside her.

  Her cheeks went red and she shook her head. “How did you…did my dad say something?”

  “He mentioned that he’s worried, that this Massimo won’t leave you alone. Is he stalking you?”

  She bit out a little laugh. “That’s a bit dramatic. No, he’s not stalking me. We dated for about a month, and I broke things off.”

  “Did he do something to you? Hurt you?” Please, Liv. Give me an excuse to flay him alive.

  But she shook her head. “No. It just…the connection wasn’t there for me. I didn’t see a point in continuing to date when I knew it wasn’t going anywhere. No sense in wasting everyone’s time.”

  “But he’s bothering you?”

  She hesitated, shrugging. “He’s calling and texting, wanting another chance. He’s shown up a few times when I’ve been out with my friends, but that could just be a coincidence.” He could tell from the look on her face, from the tightness around her eyes that she wasn’t entirely convinced of that, and neither was he.

  He stood and came around the desk. She gasped softly when he crouched in front of her chair and took her small hands in his, his thumbs tracing over her knuckles. At the feel of her skin against his, the soft, warm scent of her filling his lungs, he felt as though something that had been off-kilter since he’d last seen her was settling into place.

  “I want to help,” he said quietly. “I need to keep you safe.”

  She bit her lip and nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay.”

  “What’s his last name?” Sasha hadn’t been able to find anything, with only a name and a thin connection to Olivia to go on. Even he wasn’t that good.

  “Greco. His name’s Massimo Greco.”

  Alarm bells blared in Lucian’s head, but he pushed them away, not wanting to frighten her. “How did you meet?”

  She shrugged. “At a bar. He bought me and my friends drinks.”

  “I see.” Had she gone home with him that night? How many times had they kissed? Had sex? Had she woken up in his arms, all adorably sleep rumpled? He wanted to know so much more, all while knowing the details would gut him. “If he contacts you again—phone, text, email, fucking carrier pigeon—I want you to tell me.”

  “And you’ll do what with that information?” she asked warily, her fingers still laced with his.

  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”

  He could see the debate raging behind her eyes, but after a moment she swallowed and nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell you.” She pressed her palms to her cheeks. “This is so embarrassing.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She looked at him, her brown eyes luminous with unshed tears. “I can’t even imagine what you think of me. The losers I date. You probably think of me as some club hopping spoiled kid, waltzing around in party dresses and messing around with idiotic boys.”

  “Hey, whoa. That’s not what I think of you. Not at all.”

  “Then why…” She swallowed and shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “I’ve seen you work a room full of people and charm every single one of them. I know that you graduated at the top of your class and last year you won an award for your designs. I know that you donated your time and resources to redecorate the long-term stay rooms for families at the children’s hospital. I know that you don’t take people’s shit and that you’re strong.” And he meant it,
every single word of it. Yes, she was young and had made some questionable decisions, but he didn’t think any less of her for it.

  She didn’t say anything, but he caught the slight hitch in her chest.

  For several moments, they stayed like that, hands entwined, devouring each other with their eyes. Finally, he stood, helping her to her feet.

  “Your friends are probably waiting for you. Go. Enjoy your birthday.” Her hands were still in his, and she stood only inches from him. His gaze dropped to her mouth, to those gorgeous lips.

  She rose onto her toes and brushed her lips over his stubbled cheek. Every muscle in his body went taut, his skin hot and tight. He wanted those lips everywhere, but knew he had to settle for this ghost of a kiss against his cheek.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, pulling back and meeting his eyes. “For the job offer and for looking out for me.” Her eyes lingered on his for another moment and then she slowly slid her hands from his. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  He nodded. “Monday. I’ll walk you back to your friends.”

  After he’d safely escorted her back to her table and sent over another bottle of champagne, he returned to his spot up on the balcony, his gaze roving out over the club.

  He’d been reluctant to offer her a job because being near her and around her was torture. But now he was glad he had, glad that he had a reason for the proximity. Because her ex-boyfriend wasn’t just some douche who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Massimo Greco was a hit man for the Italian mafia, and that meant that keeping Olivia safe had just gotten a lot more complicated.

  7

  Olivia stepped in front of the floor-length mirror hanging on the back of her closet door, lips pursed as she scrutinized the third outfit she’d tried on that morning.

  “Ugh, no,” she said, pulling off the blue and white blouse and navy blue pencil skirt. She normally didn’t have this kind of trouble simply choosing an outfit for work, but today was different. It was Monday morning and she was due to meet with Lucian at his new French bistro in an hour. Nerves and adrenaline swirled through her, making her feel jittery. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she wanted this job. Not just because it would be an opportunity to work with Lucian, but because it would be an excellent addition to her portfolio. But still, she wanted to earn it.

  She sighed, heading back into her closet to pick out something else to wear. She’d already rejected the gray silk shell and black pants, the navy blue suit with a red blouse underneath, and now this last outfit. She wanted to look professional, but knowing she was going to be with Lucian made her want to look sexy. If she was in hell being around him, knowing she couldn’t have him, then she wanted him to suffer too. Maybe if she made him suffer enough he’d finally let go of some of that tightly leashed restraint and…

  Shaking her head, she pulled a royal blue dress out of her closet. It had elbow-length sleeves and lapel detailing around the low V-neck, then cinched at the waist and flared out into a subtle A-line that landed just above her knees. Once she had it on, she added a belt and a pair of heels and knew she’d found the winner. It was professional but pretty and sexy with the cleavage it showed and the way it hugged her waist, flaring out over her hips. Perfect. She swept her hair up into a high ponytail and added a few pieces of delicate jewelry and was ready to go.

  Her phone buzzed from where she’d left it on her bed and she scooped it up, sighing and rolling her eyes when she saw Massimo’s name on the screen.

  Massimo: Olivia, will you please just talk to me?

  When she didn’t respond, another came through a short while later.

  Massimo: I’m not giving up on us. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and you’re crazy if you think I’m not going to fight for you.

  She didn’t respond and dropped her phone into her purse as she gathered up the rest of her things, including her portfolio. She lived alone in a one-bedroom apartment on William Street in the Financial District, a condo she’d bought after finishing up grad school with money from her trust fund. Her condo was a corner unit, with soaring curved windows that provided a breathtaking view of the East River and the Brooklyn Bridge. She could even see Governors Island and the Statue of Liberty from the floor-to-ceiling window in her bathroom. She loved her little place and having her own home made her feel grown up in a way she never would’ve been able to achieve living at home with her father.

  As she took the elevator down to the lobby, her phone buzzed again, and with an annoyed huff, she fished it out of her purse.

  Massimo: Give me another chance, baby doll. I promise you won’t regret it.

  “Yuck,” she said, dropping her phone back in her purse. When she’d first met Massimo, she’d thought he was hot. He had that sexy swagger and bravado that always got her going, and the first couple of dates had gone well. But the spark had fizzled—for her, at least—after that first little wave of lust had passed, leaving her with a needy, possessive douche who didn’t share any interests with her and seemed like a sleazeball. Now, she regretted ever going out with him. She made a mental note to show Lucian the texts when she saw him.

  As she stepped out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk, the blazing summer heat greeted her. Even though it wasn’t quite ten in the morning yet, the sun was beating down, heating up all of the concrete and metal and glass surrounding her, making the heat feel like it was radiating from all directions. The air was thick with humidity in a way that promised rain, even though the sun was shining right now.

  She slid into the cab the doorman had hailed for her, tucking her large portfolio between her knees and the back of the seat in front of her. The ride from her place in the Financial District to the Bowery was only about a mile and a half, but took nearly twenty minutes thanks to traffic on South Street. Eventually, the cab turned down a small side street, one lined with red and brown brick low rises.

  She paid her fare and slid out of the cab, taking in the street. It was fairly quiet this time of day, a few people sitting out on their fire escapes with a cup of coffee, a handful of cars parked up the street. She had to squint at the shop windows to find number eighteen, the one she was looking for. She stepped up to the glass door of the would-be restaurant and pulled it open, an angry squeal greeting her ears. When she stepped inside, she blinked a few times, her eyes needing a minute to adjust after the bright morning sunshine. The interior was cool and dim and filled with the sounds of construction. The scents of sawdust and chemical adhesive hit her nose, sending an excited little thrill through her. She loved being on site during a project, loved seeing everything coming together.

  Eyes adjusted, she scanned the interior, taking a few slow steps farther inside. The windows facing the street were grimy, but they were big. Solid wood floors were scuffed but salvageable in the right hands. To her left, exposed stone rose up the wall, contrasting with the red brick visible everywhere else. A few men moved about the space, talking amongst each other, and a loud banging sounded from the back.

  She headed in that direction and glanced through the open doorway that led to the kitchen, where she could already envision a pair of padded leather doors closing it off, tufted with brass buttons and adorned with a circular window at the top. Even though it was rough around the edges, this place had potential. It was a diamond in the rough, and she wasn’t surprised that Lucian had seen that. Just then, he stepped through the doorway, wearing a white button-down shirt open at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to expose his muscled forearms. It was tucked into a pair of dark gray pants that hugged his strong thighs and showed off his bitable ass. His thick hair had a wave to it this morning, most likely thanks to the raging humidity outside. Her skin tingled with the urge to run her fingers through it, to curl them into the hair at the nape of his neck as he kissed her. As he whispered in her ear that he wanted her and had always wanted her. As he listed off all the unspeakably dirty things he wanted to do to her.

  Ahem.

 
It didn’t matter how many times she saw him, she never seemed to get used to that first jolt of electricity that passed through her at the sight of him. Butterflies unfurled their wings and flapped madly in her stomach, and her skin felt hypersensitive. When he saw her, his steps slowed and he smiled.

  Oh, God. When he smiled at her like that, white teeth flashing, the skin around his eyes wrinkling, it felt like time had stopped and the only thing that continued to exist was the magnetic pull between them. As usual, he devoured her with his eyes, making her pleased with the dress she’d chosen. Taking a breath, she reminded herself that she was here to work and that nothing was ever going to happen between them.

  No matter how badly she wanted it.

  With her heart throbbing in her chest, she took a breath and started walking towards him, schooling her features into what she hoped was a professional smile. “Good morning,” she called, raising her voice to be heard above the construction din.

  “Morning,” he said, his deep voice making her toes curl in her pumps and her stomach dip and swirl. “Welcome to the future home of Maison Blanche.” He held out a hand, and for a second, she thought he wanted her to take it. When she hesitated, he pointed toward the back. “Let me show you around.”

  “Sure,” she nodded, heat rising to her cheeks. She followed him, struggling to concentrate on work at the sight of his ass in those snug gray pants that fit him so perfectly. She wanted to dig her nails into that ass as he—

  “As you can see, the kitchen is almost done. All new stainless steel, everything up to code. You wouldn’t need to worry about doing much with this space. Back there is the walk-in freezer and to the left is a small wine cellar.”

  A few workers bustled around, installing a stainless steel worktop, adjusting lighting. Another worked on mudding and taping drywall along the far wall.

  Lucian laid a hand on the small of her back, making her melt. “This doorway leads to the back hallway. There’s an office and a locker room for the employees, as well as a small staff washroom.” She stepped into the hallway, her eyes scanning the space, taking it all in. Everything inside was dim and worn, and not in a shabby chic, romantic way.