Manhattan
At nine thirty on the dot, Paco Robles laid two choppy knocks on the door of his boss’s office in the executive suite on the fifty-second floor before letting himself in.
Paco wasn’t the garden-variety employee at Drake Global Industries. Technically, he wasn’t on the books at all. His salary was completely under the table, and his access to offices, documents, and DGI’s high-powered CEO, Alex Drake, was absolute.
No one but Alex had a clue who Paco really was or what he did, and that was just the way he liked it. Despite his role being undefined, absolutely everyone knew he was as close to the top as you could get in the multibillion-dollar global corporation without actually body-snatching the boss.
At his knock, a gruff heave came from behind the door. The sound gave Paco the mistaken assurance he could enter.
Once he’d swiped his access card on the wall panel and stepped inside, he instantly realized the error of his ways.
There was Alex in all his ball-busting glory. Suit on from the waist up, five-thousand-dollar slacks pooled around his ankles, he was currently focusing all his efforts into pounding the well-rounded ass of his latest conquest.
Paco could have silently backed out, but a discontented huff escaped him as he checked his watch. You know the time, ass-wipe. You said nine thirty.
Without breaking the rhythm of his bucking thrusts, Alex looked up and gave Paco a boyishly innocent shrug intended to deflect the daggers of his best friend’s squint. And his ridiculous finger-shush was wholly unnecessary.
Paco rolled his eyes. Like I’d embarrass the girl. It’s bad enough she ended her day with you.
After a short exchange of a dozen choice expressions between them, he left.
This was the side of Alex Drake he loathed. He used to hate all sides of the bastard, but that was a long time ago. When a man has gone through hell and back, it’s easier to overlook his shortcomings.
All the world ever saw of Alex was the asshole side of him, but Paco knew the real him, the pieces that kept Alex from sleeping for days on end. And no matter how balls-deep he got inside a woman, no woman was getting close to him.
Or at least, not in a way that really mattered.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, a mildly sweaty and supremely apologetic Alex peeked his head into Paco’s office. “Hey. You, uh, wanted to see me?” His chuckle was contagious.
“Not that fucking much of you,” Paco blurted. But his jovial smile broke through as usual, despite his having to deal with the hellacious pain in the ass known as Alex Drake. Tonight was no different. “Let me guess. That would be Ms. Taylor.”
Yet again. Another young woman who happened to have the last name that haunted Alex. Haunted them both.
Blinking away the past, Paco refocused on the here and now.
Alex was dealing with things the way he always did . . . deliberately. Methodically. Redefining OCD by practically fucking his way through the phone book, one Ms. Taylor at a time.
Thankfully, Alex never outright asked Paco to find the woman he really wanted. And Paco never offered. Their understanding was unspoken, and neither seemed interested in crossing that invisible barbed wire of a line.
Defeated, Alex gave him a pathetic shrug, not bothering to verbally confirm what they both already knew. Instead, he changed the subject.
“Hey, you’re the one with unfettered access. What can I say? It’s a double-edged sword. Speaking of swords—”
With both elbows on his desk, Paco plopped his head in his hands, working his fingers into each temple. Frustrated, he suggested the only solution that would alleviate his oncoming headache.
“Look, I just need to kick your ass. It won’t take long, so I’ll make it quick. It won’t even muss up your hair any more than it already is, and I’ll hold back enough to keep you out of the ER.”
Laughing, Alex relaxed into the leather wingback chair opposite Paco’s desk. “Maybe later. But my comment was actually business related.” When Paco arched his brow with a stern glance of disbelief, Alex lifted a hand. “No, really. Charity called. We’ve got a bite.”
If the hooker to the elite was calling Alex Drake with intel on someone trying to get a piece of the megamogul, Paco was all ears.
“Well, this I’ve got to hear.”