The Uncle | Re-Written Version (18+) BOOK 2

3.

Watching the kettle boil, Lysandra rehearsed her design plan for Lance CO's newest client. She was loving the idea of a natural but industrial theme for the health food company, they'd just invested in a warehouse space and she knew keeping the industrial aspects of the building would enhance the overall design.

In the corner of her gaze she saw her phone buzz, pouring the hot water into her tea, Lysandra sat down at the island bench. She slide her thumb across the screen and frowned, it was her mother.

'You can't avoid me forever, Lys. I know where you live.'

She sighed, Lysandra knew she couldn't hid from her mother's newest love interest for too much longer, but she was tired of the whirlwind romances her mother seemed to find herself in. She wanted to believe her mother that this one was different, it had lasted longer the the previous men.

There was no harm in meeting the man, suppressing her irritation she responded, 'You said the BBQ was on Saturday? What time and do you want me to make anything?'

The buzz came back immediately and Lysandra couldn't help but smile at her mother's amusement, '1PM and just you is plenty!'

Well, that was settled then. Finishing her tea, she placed her dishes in the sink, slipped into her heels and left the house. The drive to her office was short, her mind occupied with the proposal. Parking in the basement, she took the elevator straight to her bosses office. Pushing through the large glass doors she smiled, "good morning, Lance. I see you're prepared for our meeting." She teased. Her boss was a genius but he was not punctual at all, Lance rolled his eyes back at her and beckoned her to join him while he stuffed breakfast into his mouth.

She walked around the forest green table and laid out the floor plan she'd drafted, as he ate she quickly ran over the ideas. "What would I do without you, Lys," Lance muttered. He'd hit a gold mine with the red head, she was creative, had an eye for things like no one he'd ever met.

"Actually work," Lysandra rolled the plan back up. "Now please make yourself presentable," she muttered brushing he crumbs off his white button down. He brushed her hands away, once more rolling those eyes.

He stood, pulling on his suit jacket, "yes, mother." 

She wrapped her arms around the folders and held them to her chest while she waited for him. Then the duo made their way to the boardroom. Danny was already in there, smiling and conversing with the clients. They joined the group and began discussing the designs. Once the meeting had finished, Lysandra made it her personal mission to avoid Danielle at all costs. She wasn't ready for the grilling she knew would ensue.

That is how the young woman found herself running from the office with Danny shouting out behind her in amusement, "we have a meeting on Monday, can't run from that one!"

The BBQ was only two days away, so she decided she'd stop by the shops to buy ingredients for a cob loaf, hating the idea of showing up anywhere without anything. Once she'd finished shopping she made her way home and changed into workout attire. She decided she needed to purge her mind of the devious man that had taken her so satisfying the previous night. He'd crept into one too many thoughts that day, to the point where others were beginning to notice her sudden disorientation.

She pulled on her sneakers and headed out.

**

Mikel knew it was wrong, the voice in his head tried to reason with him, while another tempted him to open that sweet little Walsh file. It was already enough a temptation that he knew where she lived, her address followed with age and name was titled on the file. She was just over a decade younger than he. "Fuck!" He growled in frustration while slamming the laptop close, he was short of becoming a stalker. But how could he forget those heart shaped red lips, skin so white he knew he'd see the purplish blue veins at the junction of her thighs, fuck those thighs that led to strong legs. It was all too much, she'd invaded his thoughts, her scent lingering with no intention to leave.