Spellbound, Boundless Series, Book 4

Ch. 5

I loved seeing her eyes widen, assessing if my declaration had reassured her. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she blinked. "Then why all this?"

"I like quiet. Privacy. I didn't think you'd be comfortable dining in my room. This particular restaurant doesn't have a private room. Because you selected this restaurant, I didn't want to go against your choice. I figured the best way to get to know you would be to keep this casual, but private. Don't you agree?"

She contemplated me for a moment, then said quietly, "You make very good points, Mr. Clay."

"Brady, please,"

"If it's okay with you, I'd like to keep it formal and professional. I don't need any appearance of impropriety. This is my first semi-executive job, and I want to be taken seriously. If I call you Brady tonight, then I'm sure to slip up in public where it matters most."

"You do well enough when you're interchanging between Mr. Clay and Mr. Michaels. That's a skill." The long pause between my statement and her retort spoke volumes. Upon her hesitancy, I called the server to take our order. Lana seemed flustered as she requested a small vegetarian meal. After I placed my order, the server collected our menus and departed, leaving us to sit in awkward silence.

"Will you be asking the other assistant managers to dinner in an emptied restaurant?" She leaned in, elbows on the table, and looked at me with a raised eyebrow—the proverbial "good eye."

"Yes, like that fellow you had lunch with. What's his name?"

"I'm sure Pascal would love that. You're his type," she revealed.

I almost choked on my drink as it burned down the wrong pipe. I cleared my throat. "Really. I'm flattered. Unfortunately for Pascal, I have a type, and he doesn't even remotely fit it. But like I said, I'm only interested in finding out how things are working at Pentagram." I smiled evenly while she remained unamused. "Tell me, how has your experience with Pentagon been so far?"

A smile finally broke through the cracks of her solid wall. "It's great. I've learned a lot in the last semester. Mrs. Keene has taught me so many things and offered me experiences I never imagined I would have while still in college."

"How old are you?"

"Sir, that's an offensive question." Her cheeks flushed anew, and she scowled.

"My apologies, but you started college late," I countered.

She remained quiet, as though seeking permission from the universe to be completely honest. Then she looked at me. "We don't all come from privilege, sir."

"I should know. I grew up in Roxbury. It's not the safest or richest part of Boston. You didn't exactly do your homework, Ms. Coto."

"Mr. Seamus Michael Clay, also known as Brady Clay. Thirty-five-year-old bachelor, originally from Roxbury, Massachusetts, raised by Margaret Brady Clay, who was originally from Ireland. Two older brothers who work in different capacities within holding companies of Pentagon. Multi-billionaire with a home in Belmont, Massachusetts, a luxury apartment in a high-rise in Boston, an estate in Ireland, and another home in Miami..." My body quaked as she rattled off my history.

Thankfully, she hadn't mentioned the home in the Dominican Republic—Playa de Perlas.

"How do you know so much about me, Ms. Coto, if you have no interest in me sexually?"

She grimaced. "Just because I know all about you and the other men who created Pentagon doesn't mean I want to have sex with any of you. It should be normal practice for someone working in a large corporation to learn as much as one can about the founders of the company. Your lives are an open book. Each of you is handsome, successful, rich, and constantly in the media spotlight, which brings notoriety to this business. However, what I don't know is why you're no longer the president of Pentagon when you've been head of the corporation since the very beginning."