Wicked Honey (18+)

Chapter 2

It'd been three days since I'd been back and I'd already gotten a virus on my computer. I'd barely touched the damn thing besides to send a few emails and sign the papers closing the payment on the farm.

My schedule for the day had been erased from my calendar so I didn't even bother looking at it. Luckily, I was old-fashioned and wrote my meetings in my planner too. Fishing it from my bag, I leaned back in my chair and glanced over today's date.

September 8th:

12:45pm - Editor's Lunch

2:15pm - Kelly's Annual Review

4:00 - Meeting w/ Ryan Haglar

I was pretty sure I'd be skipping the editor's lunch considering it started in 20 minutes and they didn't really need me there to begin. It was just a nice incentive to keep up the good work. Having your boss there only put a damper on a good time. So I crossed it out and went back to reviewing the manuscript that'd been on my desk this morning.

Historical fiction wasn't my favorite genre but it could be interesting with the right storyline and the right author. This one certainly wasn't bad but there were parts I still had to drag my eyes through.

I was only a quarter of the way through when I hear Kelly's voice outside my office rise above its normal, calm octave. Raising an eyebrow, I stand and close the manuscript, wondering who could possibly rattle Kelly. She always had it together.

"Sir," She says, clearly irritated. "You can't_"

My door opens and a tall man stomps into my office. He's got to be at least 6'3, with jet black hair and olive skin. And fuck, a face that I'm certain could melt the clothes right off my body. His jaw is set, his wicked green eyes pegged on me. And it's easy to see; he's livid. He tugs up one of his suit sleeves. Tattoos crawl up the length of his forearm. I can even see one peeking out of the collar of his button-up.

He takes a meaningful step towards me and I straighten, glaring back at him.

"I tried to tell him that he couldn't_" Kelly starts.

"It's not your fault, Kelly." I say, not removing my glare from the man now towering over my desk. "Whatever is so pressing, I will take of it." Out of the corner of my eye, I see her nod. My office door clicks behind her as she closes it. His dark eyebrows furrow deeper as he stares down at me. "Is there something I can_"

"How did you find out about the farm?" He snaps.

My head spins for a moment. I'm not sure if it's the intensity of his gaze or how quickly the conversation veered in a direction I didn't expect. "The farm?" I repeat. How could he possibly know anything about the farm? How could anyone? Aside from Kelly and Linda.

He looks irritated again and pushes back from my desk, putting some space between us for which I'm very grateful. "Don't play coy. It's not cute." He stuffs his hands into his pocket and I watch as the veins in his forearms bulge. I lick my dry lips and try to focus.

"Listen, Mr...?"

He's quiet a moment, analyzing me. Searching for something on my face. I have no idea what is it so I just stand there and wait. He finally cracks a small smirk, his tongue darts out and runs along his bottom lip. I do my best not to watch. "Sin. Mr. Sin."

My breath catches in my throat. It couldn't possibly be. But the longer I stare at him, the more it makes sense. The tattoos, the dark aura, the secrecy. I'd never seen a picture of Greylar Sin but if I had to picture this city's most notorious mob boss... he's what I would picture. But regardless of who he was, I hadn't done anything wrong. And even if he did run this city, I wasn't afraid of him either.

I press my palms into my desk and stare hard at him. "Mr. Greylar, I'm not sure what you need but I think you might have the wrong_"

"Ivy Elizabeth Lancaster. Twenty-seven years old, dark brown hair, hazel eyes. 5'7, 132 lbs. Employed as a Publisher at SkyBound Books. Born and raised in Remming by a single mother, April Lancaster, until she married a very wealthy man, Jared Brodvict, who then adopted you, but you still kept your mother's last name. Seems odd." He shook his head once. "Lives at 873 Amber Loop in Sin Sity apartment 12, social security 56_"

"Stop!" I finally choke out, though still feeling the weight of his words squeezing my throat.

He cocks his head to the side. "You're telling me that's not you?"

My nails dig into the desk as I force myself to stare into his eyes. "What do you want?"

He grins. "Now we're getting somewhere," He takes a step forward and I can feel his cologne wrap around me like a silken blanket. It's dark and sweet and I want so badly to pull back but I can't. "How did you find out about the farm?" He asks again.

I still don't understand what exactly he wants but I answer anyway. "I just drove past and I saw the foreclosure sign," I don't break our eyes as I tell him the truth. "I just wanted to help."

He stares at me, his eyes hardening. "You're lying."

"I'm not," I say. "I was hours from Sin Sity, I had no idea it had any significance to the city, let alone to you."

He raises an eyebrow. "You're telling me that it was just a kind gesture? Paying off a six-hundred-thousand dollar debt?"

I swallow down my pride. "I have the money," I break our eyes and look down at my desk. "It's just sitting. Although, I'm sure you knew that."

He shifts knowing that I'm right.

It's quiet for a few moments and I finally look back up at him. His dark hair is messy as if he's run his fingers through it a few times. We stare at each other for several more heartbeats before he finally grunts and walks around my desk. My heartbeat skyrockets and I square my shoulders as he wraps his heavy fingers around my suit sleeve.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I try to wrench my arm free. He looks shocked and his hand loosens for a split second before it tightens again and he tugs me behind him as she heads towards my office door. "I can't just leave, I have meetings. I have a life, fuckhead." I snap at the back of his head.

He turns before he hits my office door, eyes blazing. "I cleared your schedule for the day," He sneers at me. "And like it or not, for the time being, your ass is mine until I can figure this goddamn mess out."

My eyebrows furrow. "All because I did a nice thing?"

Greylar smirks. "That'll teach you not to do nice things, angel."

My stomach twists but I ignore it. "Maybe that works for you, asshole." I spit back at him.

He laughs, a dark chuckle that vibrates down my arm and settles in my core. "Don't act like we're so different."

"We are very different, Greylar." I argue, staring up into his dark eyes.

He moves his hand from my sleeve to my bare wrist. His other hand grips the sleeve and tugs it down, relieving the full sleeve of tattoos on my forearm. I look away from his eyes, unable to handle the triumph. They were just tattoos. But he was right... we looked an awful lot alike in our dark suits and tatted arms.

Pushing the thought away, I watch him turn around and together, we stalk into the hallway.