Seducing My Ex's Father In Law

3

But if this really was Edward Fasbender, I had grossly f****d up on my assessment of him. Because this man was not just attractive, he was overwhelmingly so. He was tall, just over six feet by my guesstimation. His expensive midnight-blue tailored suit showcased his svelte build, and from the way his jacket sleeves hugged his arms, it was obvious he worked out. He was fair-skinned, as his German name suggested, but his hair was dark and long at the top. While it had been tamed and sculpted in place, I imagined it floppy in its natural state. His brows were thick, but flat and expressionless, his eyes deep-set and piercing, lighter than my own baby blues, though maybe it was his periwinkle tie that brought them out so vibrantly. Whatever the reason, they were mesmeric. They made my knees feel weak. They made me catch my breath.

And his face!

His face was long with prominent cheekbones, his features rugged without being worn. He was clean shaven at the moment, but I was sure he could pull off scruff without looking gritty if he tried. His lips were full and plump with a well-defined v at the top. Two faint creases ran between his eyebrows making him appear intensely focused, and the slight lines that bookended his mouth gave him a permanent smirk, even when his mouth was just at rest.

Though, he might have meant the smirk in the moment. Considering the way I was standing frozen gawking at him, it was highly likely.

I shook my head out of my stupid daze, put on an overly bright smile, and started toward him, my hand outstretched. “Hi, I’m Celia Wern—” Before I could finish my introduction, the heel of my shoe caught on the carpet, and I tripped, spilling the contents of his file all over the floor.

Blood rushed up my neck and into my face as I crouched down to pick up the mess. It was awkward kneeling down in my pencil skirt, but I was more concerned about gathering the papers before he saw them. It only took five seconds before I realized the concern was unnecessary, because, even though I’d dropped the pages at his feet, he was not bending down to help me. I was right about his character, it seemed. Arrogant, egocentric. Asshole.

I shoved the papers back in the file and shot a glare up at him, which turned out to be a mistake, because there he was, peering down at me with that perma-smirk, and something about the position I was in and his exuding dominance sent a shiver through my body. My skin felt like it was

on fire, and goosebumps paraded down my arms. His presence was overpowering. Overwhelming. Unsettling.

My mouth dropped open in surprise. Men didn’t make me feel this way. I made men feel this way. I overpowered the men around me. I overwhelmed them. I unsettled them.

I didn’t like it. And yet, I also kind of did. It wasn’t only an unusual feeling, but it was a feeling. It had been a long time since I’d felt anything, let alone something so startling.

I swallowed and prepared to rise when he surprised me again, finally stooping down to my level.

“Edward Fasbender,” he said, holding out his hand.

With a scowl, I took it. My hand felt warm in his tight grip, and I let him hold on past the length of a standard handshake, let him help lift me back to a standing position before I withdrew it sharply.

He smirked at this too—that mouth smirked at everything, but I could feel the smirk in his eyes as well. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Celia,” he said in his distinguished British dialect. “Have a seat, will you?”

If there had been any logic to not taking a seat, I would have continued to stand, simply because I hated conceding any more control to him than I already felt I had. But there wasn’t anything practical about standing, so I threw my bag and the file on the table, pulled out a chair and angled it toward the head where, if the laptop and phone sitting there were any indication, I surmised he was going to sit.

“I hadn’t realized I’d only be meeting with you, Mr. Fasbender.” I purposefully didn’t scoot the chair back into the table so he could have a prime view while I crossed one long leg over the other. I had nice legs. They were two of my best weapons.

The bastard didn’t even glance down. With his eyes pinned on mine, he unbuttoned his jacket and sat in the seat I’d assumed he’d take. “Edward, please,” he said sternly. He’d already made it clear he meant to call me Celia, even without my invitation to do so.

“As I was saying, Edward, I would have insisted we met in my office if I’d known you were reserving a meeting room simply for my benefit.”

He tilted his head, his stone expression showing nothing. “It wasn’t simply for your benefit. I’ve been using this room as my office while I’m in the States meeting with potential investors. It’s unconventional, perhaps,

but I’m already staying in the hotel, and so the location has proved convenient. Plus, I rather like the setting, don’t you?”

I ignored how much I liked the low timbre of his voice and surveyed my surroundings once more. The Fontainebleau was one of the more lavish meeting rooms in the hotel. With the numerous crystal chandeliers, gold leaf plating, and ornate molding, the decor seemed to have been directly inspired by Versailles. I appreciated the luxurious look, but this was a bit on the abundant side, particularly when being used as an office. The fact that he liked it said more about his character. I added pompous and extravagant to my earlier assessment. He was probably even going to use the room as an example of whatever it was he wanted me to design for him.

No. Just no. Even if I were accepting his job offer, which I wasn’t.

Refraining from commenting on the decor, I turned back to my subtle admonishment. “I’m sure this is convenient for you, but our discussion will be limited because of it. I’ve brought my computer and a portfolio, which will show you some of my work, but this would be much easier if you could see the models in my office. Maybe we can reschedule and meet there at a later time?” It would be even more delightful to reject him after stringing him along.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m not interested in your design work.”

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up in warning, and I was suddenly glad for the man outside the door. Not that I couldn’t handle myself. I’d been in much more precarious situations than this and survived.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice cool and steady from practice. “I don’t believe I understand.” Though, I was beginning to have my suspicions. If I wasn’t here about a design project, this meeting could only have to do with my father.

“Of course you don’t. I didn’t have any intention for you to understand until I was ready to explain.”

He was such an arrogant piece of work. If I wasn’t completely aroused with curiosity, I would have been out the door at this point.

“Since I’m here now, I’d appreciate it if you’d go ahead and fill me in.

What is it you want from me?”

He leaned back in his seat, somehow seeming just as upright with his posture even in the reclined position. “What I want, Celia, is quite simple— I want you to marry me.”