“No, fuck. I’ve been waiting almost a decade to take you out.” He grips me tighter. “Just have your ass ready when I get home.”

I hear someone clear their throat, and Gunner and I spin around. Mason makes his way to the black couch. He’s wearing a black suit with a cherry red tie, his dark hair is combed to the side and his sunburnt face has its default expression. He’s a little shorter than Gunner but still taller than me. His ocean-blue eyes narrow on us, frowning. I press my palms against Gunner’s chest to pull away, but he grips my waist tighter. The look he’s shooting Mason is enough to kill the whole population of New York City.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here. The real reason why Gia has been treating me like shit. She’s one of your whores.” He smirks, and I glare at him.

I don’t like Mason. He’s always had a creepy vibe to him, and there are rumors floating around the building that he slept his way up the corporate ladder and steps on people’s toes to get ahead. Slimy bastard.

“Call her a whore again, and I’ll leave your ass so broke you’ll be begging the homeless guys living in Central Park for money.” Gunner lets go of me. “Apologize to my girlfriend.”

My heart does cartwheels in my chest at the word ‘girlfriend.’

Calm down, heart. This is an experiment.

“Apologize to Gia, now.” His voice is calm but deadly as poison. “Don’t make me tell you again.” The air changes from sexual tension to testosterone, and the way they are staring at each other is enough to start World War III.

“I’m sorry, Gia,” Mason says coolly, crossing his legs. “Can we get this meeting over with?”

Before I stroll to the door, Gunner gently pulls me by the arm and bends down. “Wear my favorite rainbow socks. I want to fuck you in them,” he whispers in my ear then nips the tip of my earlobe, and I blush hard.

* * *

I email Izzy and tell her about the date, and how I’m excited about it, then I sort out Gunner’s emails. I organize his calendar for next week.

Several moments later, Mason strolls through the door with a blank facial expression. He stares at me for a minute too long.

“You can do better than him. When things go south, you know where to find me.”

I don’t respond, and he strolls out the glass door heading to the private elevators. He must be high as a kite if he thinks he has a chance with me. I need to know why Gunner called me his girlfriend, which prompts me to wiggle the mouse and click on the Google icon, shooting him an email.

From: Gia Gallagher

To: Gunner Underwood

Subject: Why tell