All That He Wants

By: Olivia Thorne



Oh CRAP.

LMGK was one of Exerton’s major rivals, a true international behemoth with offices in over two dozen cities across the globe. There had been rumors flying for months that LMGK was going to acquire Exerton, and things I had seen in the upper echelons tended to support those rumors. Like meetings between Klaus and all the other department heads with bigwigs from LMGK.

“Uh… hold on, Stanley.” I pulled the phone from my ear and covered the mouthpiece. “There’s a man in the lobby from LMGK who wants to speak to you.”

Klaus groaned and checked his Rolex watch. His very gaudy, very expensive Rolex watch.

“Oh GOD… of course this happens to me right now… what’s his name?” he snarled.

I uncovered the mouthpiece. “What’s his name, Stan?”

“A Mr. Brooks. Mr. Connor Brooks.”

“Connor Brooks,” I said to Klaus – who put on the snottiest expression imaginable, like one of the queen bitches from the old Lindsay Lohan movie Mean Girls.

“Who?!”

I shrugged.

“Screw it, he’s not messing up my Friday night,” Klaus sneered.

Versus YOU screwing up every single one of mine, I thought angrily.

“I’m out. Take a message, schedule an appointment, whatever, but I’m out.”

With that, Klaus started for the elevators. He was out of sight in three seconds flat.

I sighed and turned back to the phone. “Put him on, would you, Stan?”

“Sure thing, Lily.”

There was the sound of the phone exchanging hands.

I don’t know what I expected. Maybe a high, nasally voice, the sort of whine that would belong to a guy who didn’t have anything better to do on a Friday night except schedule business meetings. Or a boring monotone like the guy who says, “Bueller… Bueller…” in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

But I certainly wasn’t expecting what I got.





5





I think I can safely say it was the sexiest voice I’d ever heard.

George Clooney sexy.

Barry White smooth.

Clive Owen without the British accent.

And young. Much younger than the men I just mentioned – but I can’t think of any hot actors my own age with a voice like that.

Deep. Rumbling. Powerful.

And confident.

You could tell from the first few words that this guy was used to getting his way. Not a demanding prima donna, but just kind of a ‘the king has spoken, now make it so’ kind of way.

You could also tell he was trouble from the get-go.

“This is Connor Brooks from LMGK. Please put Klaus Zimmerman on.”

I just sort of sat there, hypnotized.

If his voice was wine, I’d want to drink it all. night. long.

Pour it all over me, please.

After a couple of seconds of me being a silent doofus, he spoke again, more impatient this time. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

I snapped back to reality. “Uh… I’m sorry, Mr. Brooks, but Mr. Zimmerman left just a few minutes ago. I can make an appointment with him if you – ”

“Who’s this? What’s your name?” he asked.

He was forceful, but he wasn’t a jerk. He wasn’t rude, other than the fact that he’d interrupted me.

Which, okay, I guess is sort of rude, but if you’d heard his voice, you wouldn’t mind if he interrupted you, either.

“Lily. Lily Ross.”

“And you’re his secretary, Lily?”

“Yes sir.”

“Ahhh, ‘yes sir,’ I like that,” he chuckled mockingly. “Lily, you have his cell number, don’t you?”

“Uh… yes, but – ”

“I’m going to need that number, Lily.”

He kept saying my name again, over and over. Sometimes when people I don’t know do that, I get annoyed. It’s a fake sales-y way to build intimacy so they can sucker you in for a set of steak knives or comprehensive life insurance.

This guy, though… I really, really wanted to hear him say my name some more.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Brooks, but I can’t give out Mr. Zimmerman’s cell number – ”

“We’re wasting time, Lily. You and I both know Klaus is still in the building. I need his cell before he drives off to whatever frou-frou wine bar he’s going to tonight.”

Bagging on Klaus.

I liked this guy.

Well, I loved his voice, but now I liked his personality, too.

But I wasn’t about to catch a world of hell for a sexy voice. I figured I would be fired at worst; at best, three months of nagging and complaining. I could hear it already: And don’t give out my phone number again to anybody like you did LAST year…

“I’m sorry, Mr. Brooks, I can’t.”

“Discretion. I like that. Then I need you to come down here, Lily. And bring your cell phone.”

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