When You Are Mine by Kennedy Ryan

in the same spot on the bed. He had pulled the leather bracelet onto his strong wrist and was tracing the wooden blocks spelling Iyani’s name. She pressed her lips together to stem the trembling, swiping at the one hot tear that streaked down her face.
    “I really am so sorry, Walsh.” She blinked back fresh tears. “About Iyani, I mean.”
    Kerris wasn’t sure if he didn’t hear or ignored her, but he didn’t lift his eyes again. She didn’t know if that kiss had begun one thing or destroyed another. The attraction between them, an undercurrent all summer, had broken the surface with violence and heat. She’d never forget the feeling that exploded inside of her, his touch tripping an invisible wire only he had discovered. Those sensations had been hidden treasures in her own body, and her insides still hummed and buzzed. No matter how good it felt, what happened could never happen again. Should never have happened at all.

Chapter Ten
    W alsh stepped out of the elevator, adjusting his tie and checking the shine on his shoes. His father’s suite of offices took up the entire twenty-first floor of a New York skyscraper. He had come here with his mother as a child, awed by this inner sanctum from which his father ruled. He hadn’t understood then exactly what his father did, but he knew it was important, and that Daddy was powerful.
    Now he knew what Daddy did.
    Daddy was a pirate. A swashbuckling tycoon who preyed on the dismal circumstances of corporations too weakened to fend him off. Acquisitions. Takeovers, amicable or hostile. It really didn’t make a difference to Martin Bennett. If he wanted a company, he would have it.
    It took something like acquisitions to stretch his father to the outer limits of his intelligence and ambition. He was a raider. A marauder. And Walsh, God help him, was sitting at his feet to learn everything he knew. One day, this company would be his. He was determined that it would be on his own terms, but for now, he had to live with his father’s.
    Unmitigated adoration had burned bright for his father until Walsh was twelve years old and seen the man’s feet of clay. He’d never forget the angry exchanges through the walls of their brownstone, or his mother’s wrenching sobs after his father’s infidelity.
    Walsh checked his watch, shoving those emotions aside. Martin Bennett didn’t deal in emotions. He dealt in power, results, and cash. Eyes incessantly trained on the bottom line and his ever-expanding interests, his dad had missed a lot of the smaller details of life, like his wife and son. In the grand scheme of things, though, did it really matter?
    Not to Walsh. Not anymore.
    “Morning, Claire.”
    Walsh greeted his father’s assistant with genuine pleasure. He’d always liked her. He remembered the strange feeling of relief he’d felt the first time he came to the office and saw the staid, older woman who had replaced Laura, Martin’s previous assistant.
    Laura had been blond, voluptuous, condescending, and rude when his father wasn’t around. The affair with her had destroyed his parents’ marriage. The marriage had been unsalvageable, but at least Walsh hadn’t had to look at Laura’s smug face every time he came here.
    “Walsh.” Claire smiled, standing to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “How have you been?”
    “Pretty good.”
    He hoped her usually omniscient glance missed the lines of fatigue around his mouth and eyes. It had been a long month, between making arrangements for Iyani and overseeing some additions at the Kenyan orphanage. He had only returned yesterday, per his father’s summons. He had intended to head straight back to North Carolina, but Claire had called asking that he come to New York first.
    “So why does he want to see me? I know you know.”
    Claire smiled a tiny bit, cracking her professional demeanor just enough to reveal her affection for him.
    “You’ll see.” She studied him over her fashionable tortoiseshell glasses.