His by Design. Dani Wade

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      He tried to focus on her words, but his own frustration quickly morphed into desire as she moved close enough for them to hear each other without eavesdroppers. All that solid, testosterone-induced drive melted into liquid desire that pounded in his veins with a thrumming rhythm. Lord have mercy, how had this woman gotten under his skin so quickly?

      “I don’t need their cooperation. If they don’t do what I tell them, they’re out of here.”

      A repressive frown marred those full lips. “Robert and Anthony have always been the stars of Eternity Designs. You should treat them with more respect.”

      How could those lips, pressed tight like a disapproving schoolmarm’s, still come across as sexy? He was actually struggling to follow her words. Him. The king of keeping things professional.

      “Don’t you see, Ziara, that’s the problem,” he finally managed. “They’ve had people kissing their asses for years, with no challenges to their work. They think they can give a minimal effort and still be put on a pedestal. And Eternity suffers for it.”

      “They do work—”

      He could almost kiss her for the concern in the dark depths of her eyes but it was misplaced. “Not enough. Where’s the market research, the fresh, new ideas? They don’t just happen by playing around all day. Continued success takes more effort.”

      Understanding made a reluctant appearance in her gorgeous brown eyes. For some reason it made all the difference in the world to him. “I know I sound harsh. But they’re grown men who’ve been catered to for years. A polite request isn’t going to even make a dent.” Reaching out, he brushed his thumb along the softened curve of her jaw. “I do have a method behind my madness, I promise.”

      The feel of her silky skin beneath his touch was magic, along with the warmth and subtle catch of her breath. They both froze in surprise for a moment. It was all Sloan could do to resist brushing his lips over the same spot.

      Whoa. This was the design floor, not a nightclub...not even the privacy of his office. And judging by the utter silence laced with antagonism behind his back, Sloan knew Robert wouldn’t hesitate to throw around accusations of sexual misconduct. With Ziara’s approval or without it.

      He took a careful step back, letting his hand drop to his side. “Just remember something—I wouldn’t be here if they’d been doing their jobs right in the first place. Okay?”

      Her nod was firm, though her eyes were still a little dazed.

      This meeting needed to get back on track. “Ziara,” he snapped, but with a little less bite than he’d used on the men. “The tablet, please.”

      She hurried to obey, giving him a moment to regain his focus before turning back to the others. When she handed over the device, he noticed the care she took not to touch him again. After a moment of tapping on the smooth surface, he paused, looking up at the group around him.

      “Current trends favor retro designs, new twists on the old, avant-garde as well as classic.” During his recent research, he’d seen some unique retro looks in the fashion and wedding magazines, and they had sparked his own creative imagination.

      “In less than three months, I’ll be showcasing our newest designs during a professional fashion show. We’re going to bring fashion week right here to Atlanta. It’ll be an exclusive, invitation-only event that I want people talking about for months.”

      As Sloan continued to explain the fall show, excitement crept over the anger that had tightened the designers’ faces. He might have punctured their egos earlier, but now he was tempting them.

      Lifting the tablet, he turned it around to face them. “Every event needs a theme, a focal point. This is ours.”

      “A car? Are you insane?” Robert yelled, returning to his angry disbelief.

      “Not just any car, a Rolls-Royce. A classic car epitomizing the elegance, sleek design and subtle sensuality of the late 1930s. An era where women flaunted sexy curves, draped their bodies with fabrics that showcased their femininity, and set out to entice the opposite sex. Think of the actresses of the time—Marlene Dietrich, Mae West, Vivian Leigh. The dresses they wore—the draped material, exposed backs...”

      He caught a glimmer of understanding in Ziara’s eyes. Knowledge of where he was going with this idea.

      “Ridiculous,” Robert insisted. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve heard in my lifetime.”

      Sloan wasn’t backing down. “We’re going to do this and do it right. Get on board, or jump overboard. Your choice.”

      * * *

      When had work started feeling like a taffy puller?

      Ziara waited until Sloan left the building for lunch before heading to Vivian’s office. Her stomach cramped, knowing Vivian would have already heard about the upcoming show, but also knowing she couldn’t blatantly walk out of Sloan’s office straight to his stepmother’s.

      Observing Sloan for two days had taught her one thing already—he wasn’t playing. His knowledge this morning showed he had done his homework on the market, design, themes, even fashion shows. He’d been calm but firm, occasionally harsh, with Robert and Anthony. Stepping solidly into a leadership role, even if he had to do it by force.

      Most disturbing of all, his ideas for the show intrigued her.

      With some organization, this could be an incredibly successful event, one the upper classes of Atlanta society would flock to in droves. Eternity Designs would be on the tip of everyone’s tongues and the front page in the society section. Notable brides would once again be drawn to the showroom for one-of-a-kind dresses.

      But to her shame, Sloan’s appeal continued to taunt her on a more physical level. Vivian had insisted she was the last woman who would be tempted by Sloan’s charm, but the need that had crawled into her body at his singular touch frightened her. She’d seen her mother move from man to man, taking whatever they could give her, using her body to manipulate them. Mixing business with pleasure was the last thing Ziara wanted in her life. The level of temptation here actually scared her bone deep.

      Abigail gave her a sympathetic look as she entered the room. “She’s waiting on you, Ziara.”

      I bet she is. Her hand pausing on the doorknob, Ziara only let herself hesitate a second before going in.

      “Ah, Ziara,” Vivian said from behind her antique desk. “I see you have finally deigned to bring me news.”

      Vivian gestured for her to sit. The walk across the room distracted Ziara from the uneasiness caused by Vivian’s words. “I felt it appropriate to wait until Sloan left for lunch—”

      “Why? He’s surely aware that one of your jobs is to keep me informed. Next time I want to hear it from you, rather than the office grapevine.”

      Yes, but I couldn’t bring myself to rub my choices in his face. She’d probably heard from the Old Brigade, who’d run to Vivian to tattle the minute they’d realized they were losing control.

      Ziara wondered if they remembered Vivian had once been a mere secretary—and how long it had taken them to accept the new order of things when she took over. Given СКАЧАТЬ