Seth

When I stormed out of the office six months ago, blinded by white hot rage, I never intended to return. I was sick of everything in my life. The job. The people. Myself. But half a year away, flitting from country to country and screwing whatever woman caught my eye had not cured the fury that ricocheted through the chambers of my heart.

Despite what the headlines reported, I was miserable. The expensive dinners and playboy lifestyle couldn't paper over the fact that I was thirty-two and my life had fallen apart in the most public fashion. The coverage had been relentless and suffocating, but no matter how many miles away I was from London, it continued to follow me.

Eventually, I decided I was better back in the city. Back in the office, buried under paperwork and meetings. At least it was more fulfilling than whatever the fuck I had been attempting the last few months.

No amount of alcohol and pussy had healed the deep wounds that Anna left. Nothing had tipped the scales of my mood out of vitriolic and towards something more palatable.

Early Friday morning, an hour before the official workday began, I slipped into the building that housed Sinclair Technologies and savoured the peace of the empty space. The electronic buzz echoed through the foyer as I swiped my access card and took the lift to the top floor.

This was the calm before the storm. A chance for me to settle in and find my bearings again. Dad had continued to run the business during my absence and informed me that there was a stack of minutes from meetings from the past few months for me to familiarise myself with. They needed to be addressed before I could step comfortably back into my position, priming myself to takeover. Without anything to distract me, I could let work become my sole focus. At least the business wouldn't humiliate me and leave a gaping hole in my life.

As I stepped onto the floor, I caught sight of Kirsty. My personal assistant was a middle-aged woman with a nervous disposition who always came across as hesitant to speak to me. She kept out of my way and most communication happened primarily via email. The arrangement suited us both. Ten years of working together and there was yet to be a murder.

It surprised me to see that she was in the office so early, especially when she didn't know I was planning to stop by today. It had been a last-minute decision. Dad probably kept her busy with some tasks.

"Mr Sinclair," she said, seeing me. Her blue eyes grew wider as I approached. "I didn't expect you to be in today."

I spent the past four days at home, building up the patience to walk out the door and back into the office after my spectacular exit. There would be questions and photographs and...

The vein in my temple pulsed at the thought.

"I didn't realise I had to run it past you, Kirsty," I snarled.

Her face fell. "No. Of course you don't. Sorry."

I strode past her, craving the sanctuary of my office, but something made me stop.

In all the years I'd worked here, the doors to every office on the top floor remained closed. None of the company owners we took under our wing liked to be disturbed. But the door opposite my room was wide open and the potent scent of patchouli wafted out of the space and into the corridor.

Stepping into the doorway of the room, the sight horrified me. The standard issued cream walls had been painted a shockingly obnoxious tangerine and an alarming number of sticky notes covered the space behind the desk. An incense burner stood next to the monitor, and a stick dropped ash into the tray below as tendrils of smoke drifted lazily into the air. On the other side of the monitor was a large vase of sunflowers in full bloom.

"Kirsty!" I yelled, stepping out of the room. "What the fuck is this?"

Kirsty hurried around her desk, brushing her hair out of her face, and stood in the glass doorway that separated the assistants' desks from the offices. "It's Kiran's office, Mr Sinclair," she answered nervously.

Kieran. Dad had briefly filled me in on the latest addition to the business. He had been following the name Kieran Jeffrey because his interest was piqued by artificial intelligence. The AI pie was something he had been passionate about for some time, but I was yet to stick my fingers into it. However, it looked like Dad had made his move while I was away. Business didn't stop for anyone. Not even a Sinclair in meltdown mode.

Glancing back into the office, I grimaced. I would have been excited for an introduction to Kieran, but if he was as obnoxious as the room, I highly doubted that we would get along.

Who the fuck painted an office orange?

"Morning, Kiran!" Kirsty said brightly.

Stepping out into the corridor again, my gaze fell on a petite woman who made me double take and my mouth ran dry. She was dressed in a pair of yoga pants that hugged her thighs and hips, and the brown skin of her torso peeked out from the space beneath her cropped shirt. When she turned her head to look at me, I noticed full dark lips and a gold nose ring on the left side of her nose.

My cock twitched happily behind the zipper of my trousers as she walked down the corridor towards me with confidence, long black ponytail swinging. She adjusted the duffle bag on her shoulder, accidentally hitching her shirt up higher and revealing more skin.

"Are you looking for something?" I asked when she came closer.

"No," she replied, flashing me a smile that lifted her features.

"Then how can I help you?"

"By moving so I can get into my office."

"This is Kieran's office," I informed her.

"No," she said, smile not faltering. "It's Kiran's office. K-i- r- a- n. I'm Kiran. Nice to meet you."

Kiran stuck out a hand, gold bangle dangling off her wrist. I stared at it for a moment before looking back at her face.

"Kiran," I repeated, feeling a modicum of embarrassment for messing up something so simple.

It quickly morphed into anger as I realised this woman was the owner of the bright office behind me. She owned the company that specialised in AI that we had absorbed with a hefty investment. But how was that possible? She looked like the furthest thing from a business professional.

"Are you planning on introducing yourself?" she asked, but there was no hostility behind the question. "Although, I think I could wager a guess. Seth, right? You look a lot like your father. Younger, obviously." Kiran laughed. It was a light, melodic sound that flooded the corridor.

"It's Mr Sinclair," I corrected her, feeling the irritation prickle in my throat.

She shook her head, raven ponytail swaying with the movement. "I don't like formalities," she said, shooing me with her hand. "Plus, we're equals here."

I stumbled out of the way, and she breezed into her office, taking a deep breath and exhaling. She dropped the bag by the desk and sank into her chair.

"We're not equals," I said, following her into her office against my instincts. "You work for me."

"Correct," she said, shaking her mouse. "But you also need me and my team. Partnerships work best when we can be on an even footing. I don't expect you to call me Miss Jafri. I certainly don't call your father Mr Sinclair. I think Seth will do fine. And again, it's Kiran. K-i-r-a-n. Not Kieran. K-i-e-r-a-n. You're not the first to mix that up, so don't worry about apologising."

There was a kind smile on her face as she continued to correct my earlier mistake. I was about to snap at her when there was a knock on the door.

"Good morning, Arthur," Kiran said.

"Dad," I greeted him.

Arthur Sinclair was the mastermind behind Sinclair Technologies. With a voracious appetite for tech and a keen eye for trends, Dad had landed on Forbes billionaires list for the past three decades. Even as he crept towards his mid-sixties, he showed no signs of slowing down. Dad would never sit back on a yacht and relax. He was still brimming with ideas. Still watching the market and sending daily emails. It came as no surprise that we'd acquired a new company while I was on leave.

"Nice to have you back," he said to me. "I see you've both met. Has he played nice, Kiran?"

"A credit to you and your wife, Arthur," she replied.

Dad huffed a laugh. "I know that's a lie. How was yoga this morning?"

"I was late and caught the last half of the session. Left hip is still tight, but that's my fault."

"Still looser than mine," he said, rubbing the spot.

"I told you, come along with me."

"Celeste would never let me live it down if I tried to get in trousers that tight. And I am not made to bend like that."

"Not yet."

"Dad," I cut across the conversation sharply. "Can we have a word? In private."

"Would you mind, Kiran?" Dad asked her.

"Carry on," she said, waving us off with a polite smile. "I need to get changed."

As we walked out of the room, Kiran shut her door then closed the blinds as we walked across the corridor into my office. The shattered glass had been replaced and a brand-new computer sat on the desk. The hole in the wall had been patched up and painted over in the standard cream colour that didn't make my eyes want to bleed.

"What is she?" I asked once the door clicked shut.

"I'm sorry?" Dad asked, taking a seat without hesitation and crossing his ankle over his knee.

"Kiran."

"I think you'll like her," he said, eyes bright. "She's got a lot of ideas, and I'm excited about her future with the company."

"What's her worth?" I asked.

Dad raised an eyebrow. "I feel that may fall into the same bracket as asking a woman her age."

"I want to know more about what we've invested into. There's nothing wrong with that."

"It's in the paperwork," Dad replied. "Or why don't you set up a meeting with her and ask her yourself?"

Because I felt I might throw up if I had to sit in her office with its luminescent walls.

"You hired her. I trust she's not a complete psychopath," I said.

"Time will tell."

"And I have enough on my plate."

He nodded at me. "Yes, you do." Rising from the chair, he said, "Are you sure you're ready to be back?"

Dad wasn't on about the office, but the country. He wanted to know that I was stable enough to be on the same island as Anna without losing my shit again. The statements that Tiffy, who handled my press releases, sent out would have been signed off by Dad in the wake of all the destruction I caused before fleeing.

"Yes," I told him firmly.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Take it slow. Ease yourself back into it."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting back up to speed."

"I know you are." Dad tapped twice on my chest. "But heartbreak sometimes catches you off guard. Show yourself some kindness, son."

Dad left my room, whistling to himself and forgetting to close the door behind him. Grumbling to myself, I walked over to it and prepared to slam it shut when the door opposite opened.

Kiran had changed out of her gym clothes and into a deep green dress. She bent at the waist, sticking a stopper in the gap under her door to keep it open and drawing my eyes to her pert ass. For the second time that morning, my dick stirred. My mind dived into the gutter with minimal encouragement.

If Kiran wasn't working here, she would be exactly the type of woman I would take home to satisfy my every craving and curiosity. I'd destroy her purely because I wanted to, and I could. Her laughter earlier had been sweet, but there was more that could tumble from those lips if you knew how to coax it out of her.

She straightened up and brushed her loose hair behind her left ear. The flash of gold stood out on her ring finger, and I bit the insides of my cheeks. The fact she was married irritated me more than the paint or the assumption that I would apologise over getting her name wrong. She had succeeded in an area I failed, and it stung worse than expected.

The smile she offered me was the last straw.

"I hope you don't burn that all the time," I snapped, gesturing past her to the incense.

She glanced over her shoulder and then back at me. "No. Sometimes it's lavender. It's a calming scent. I'm sure it'll help your ass from bouncing off the walls."

What did she just say?

Without another word, I slammed the door to my office shut with such force that the frame shook.

Fuck her and her lavender.