She's Too Young (She's Too Young #1)(5)

By: Jessa Kane



Veda examines her dress, hands shaking as she pats and smoothes the material back into place. “I’m here, dad.”

I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, attempting to rein in the possessiveness and focus. After all, I’m about to come face to face with a man, while my dick is still hard for his little girl. Something that definitely doesn’t happen every day, especially not to me.

When Veda floats past me, she trails her fingers over the sleeve of my tuxedo jacket and the storm inside me calms. Settles right down. I can breathe again. And if I wasn’t sure already she would be mine, that would have done it. She’s indispensable.

“I thought you were going to the bathroom,” her father says to my left, his voice wary in a way that makes it clear he sees me standing there. So I turn and watch Veda approach her father, accepting his arm as it settles across her shoulders.

“I just needed some air.” She turns and sends me a secret smile, appeasing me. I get the sense she likes appeasing me and goddamn, it goes both ways. I’d love the chance to appease her and I will have it. “Dad, this is Ramsey Beckett.”

“I know who he is.” A polite, but stilted nod. “Mr. Beckett.”

“Mr. Rose.”

He’s visibly startled that I’ve been talking to Veda long enough to learn his last name. If I had room to feel sympathy around everything Veda has woken up inside me, I would have felt it for the other man in that moment, because the situation is about to get much more difficult for him.

“I’d like to meet with you in the morning, Mr. Rose.” I stride toward the building entrance, a knot tightening in my throat when I pass Veda and she peeks up at me from beneath her eyelashes. “First thing in the morning, please.”

I close the door before he can give me an answer—and there’s no need.

The only answer in my world is yes.





Chapter Two





When Mr. Rose—or, Jack, rather, as I’ve discovered is his name in the employee database—walks into my office the following morning, he’s twice as suspicious as the prior evening. It’s there in the set of his jaw, the dilation of his pupils. He already hates me and that’s just as well, since it’ll save time. I can tell he’s trying to read me, to get some clue about why I’ve called the meeting, but he’ll get nothing. I’m expressionless as usual, although it took an extra hour of sweating on my rowing machine this morning to arrive at this level of calm.

I was shaken up last night. I’m still shaken up.

I want the girl now. Need to have her or this unsettled bullshit wrecking my stomach and mind will continue to get worse. All I can think about—yes, even while looking her father right in the eye—is the tight swell of her ass in my hands. The way she was so unimpressed with my arrogance, my company title. How she followed me and got upset on my behalf. Veda is out there somewhere right now and I require her with me. In fairness, she’s not just somewhere. She arrived safely at her all-girls school in Brooklyn Heights this morning, because it was reported to me in real time. Still, I’m not an acknowledged part of her life or her daily schedule yet, and that fact is unacceptable.

I stand up and shake Jack’s hand, both of us taking our seats once again. “Good morning, Mr. Rose.”

“Good morning,” he echoes, adjusting his collar and taking in the size of my office, the panoramic view of Lower Manhattan, the East River and beyond. “I bet you never get tired of looking at that.”

He’s wrong. I stopped appreciating it a long time ago. When I look out the window now, all I see is a means to an end. A place my father used to stand and look just as miserable, while dismantling companies and selling their parts to the highest bidder. No, the skyline holds no pleasure for me, but now…I’m wondering if Veda might enjoy it. How the gentle curves of her body would look outlined by the lights at night. “Mr. Rose, I’ve read through your last three employee evaluations.” I pick up the file of medium thickness and let it drop. “I’m of the opinion that you’re being underutilized.”

“Really.” He nods, his face a mask of caution, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. We’re both impatient, but for entirely different reasons. He wants answers. I want his daughter. “I can’t pretend I didn’t already feel that way, but I’m curious, Mr. Beckett, why the company CEO is looking through the file of someone he probably shouldn’t even be aware exists.”

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