CHAPTER 5

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Peter POV

My first impression of Jane Avon told me that she wouldn't be nearly as much trouble as the last one. She didn't walk around with the kind of quiet confidence that her predecessor had, and she certainly didn't seem the type to be capable of the same kind of troubling mischief.

Though I did hope I would see at least a little bit of fire from her. I had to admit, though, seeing her so flustered by my sudden visit had been unexpectedly satisfactory.

Now that I had allowed myself a momentary break, I entered the meeting with my lawyers feeling refreshed. They didn't have much more to tell me, except that the contract was being revised. I was almost ready to pull out of it, but I was advised that it would be a better decision for the company to see it through.

Still, it didn't stop me from wanting to punch John Harmon right in his paunchy face. The nerve of him, trying to pull one over on me.

I was told that my lawyers would confer with his lawyers tomorrow to iron out the details. Hopefully, if no further addendums were added on his side, we could have an arrangement in place for the end of the quarter. One that suited both of us.

Though the only thing that really suited a crocodile like Harmon was a swamp.

It was late when I finally left the office. It often was. I wasn't tired, though. I felt strained, stressed, and like I needed some release. I thought about calling one of the girls in my contacts, but the thought of having to put up with their insipid conversation in order to get laid filled me with dread.

Then my thoughts drifted to the redhead that Alana had hired. I thought about the speckling of freckles across her nose, and the way her pencil skirt had hugged her shapely hips. The memory of the way her little cupid's bow lips had parted with surprise when I first entered the office caused my cock to stiffen while I drove. She looked so bright, so innocent. She was a world away from me.

And yet I couldn't get her off my mind.

My brother was waiting in my penthouse when I arrived. He had a scowl on his face and a tumbler of scotch in his hand. In other words, par for the course.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

He took a sip from his glass. "I'm bored," he complained.

"Go be bored somewhere else," I countered, shrugging off my suit jacket and tossing it across the couch.

"I'd rather be bored here," he said, slumping down into a stool at the breakfast bar. "That way you can see me being bored and feel bad about it."

I shot him a dark look and went over to the bar, pouring myself a glass of scotch as well. I noticed that he had been drinking my most expensive bottle. Of course.

"It's not my fault that you got caught with your pants down," I growled. "It's just me who had to deal with it."

He looked down into his glass, stirring it idly. "Let's go out."

"No."

"Peter," he whined. "I've been doing nothing but reading the news and doing crosswords all week. I'll turn into you before long."

I moved across from him and slammed my drink on the counter. "No, Dane," I said. "Now go home."

He frowned at me and downed the rest of the amber liquid in his glass. Then he got off the stool and stalked to the elevator, pressing the button with a childish use of force. When the doors opened, he stepped in without so much of word. The doors closed, and I was alone.

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