She doesn’t say anything. My stomach is lodged somewhere in my throat as I hold my breath in anticipation. Finally, she demands, “Is that it?”
Confused, and now adding hurt to my previous pissed off, I nod.
Carys stomps her foot. She actually does it twice. “I love you too, damnit. Love is not the problem here. We have other issues!” Whirling away, she goes back into her office.
This time, she does slam the door.
“What issues? What the hell am I missing?” Racing back to my desk, I begin poring over every piece of documentation I can from quarterly reports to contracts trying to determine where the issues lie. What is causing her such stress? Such anxiety?
And then a knock occurs from the outer door.
Angie walks in with another bouquet of flowers. “David…” she says, hesitantly.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I demand hotly. Stalking over, I snag them out of her hands.
“Um, maybe I should keep those out here until you’re ready…”
“Someone might be threatening the woman I love!” I shout my unfounded fears at Carys’s assistant. I shake the gorgeous ivory roses at her. “Some lunatic is sending flowers anonymously. I can’t figure out who it is. It’s likely a psycho stalker from some crazed Dateline episode!”
“Um, David…” Angie begins, but I cut her off.
Pacing back and forth, I cradle the bouquet in the crook of my arm. “All day, I’ve been panicking about asking her to marry me. I have dinner being catered—an exact replica of the Italian restaurant we went to near Broadway after she signed BBLES on as a client. It was our first date, the first night we kissed, three weeks after I got my head out of my ass after years of having her near and not managing it. Years wasted. I’ve wasted enough time. Tonight was supposed to be the night, and some fuckwit is messing with my plans.”
“David.” Angie’s voice is trembling.
“For weeks, I’ve been planning this. Every single moment has to be perfect. She’s everything, Angie, and for the rest of my life, I need to stand by her side. Is that too much to ask?”
“No, but David…” I don’t let Angie finish.
“And now? Now, I can’t even figure out who the hell is sending flowers so I can reassure her it’s not some crazed crackpot. I’m snapping at her, hurting her, and pissing her off.”
A cool voice comes from behind me, freezing me in place. “Well, since you also suck at figuring things out, I also imagine twenty years from now our children will be coming to me with homework help.” I spin around to find Carys leaning against the door, her arms crossed over her chest. “Angie, thank you arranging David’s flower delivery today.”
“You’re welcome, Carys. Do you need anything else, or am I good to head home?”
I stand there frozen as Carys calmly dismisses her assistant for the day. “You’re fine to leave. Happy Valentine’s Day to you. Enjoy your evening.”
Angie can’t quite keep the chortle in. “I hope you do as well. I’m sure it will be quite…memorable.”
“Hmm. We shall… David!” Carys screeches as I slam the door in Angie’s laughing face. For good measure, I flick the lock. “That was rude!” But the sparkle in Carys’s voice betrays her humor.
“Do you realize how long I’ve been planning this?” I ask her quietly. I don’t turn around just yet. If I do, I don’t know what will happen.
“I’d say at least a month longer than I’ve been in talks with Ward about becoming a partner in the business, perhaps? After all”—her voice hardens—“isn’t that why you approached him about a job?” My shock holds me frozen. Carys has no such problem and continues. “Tell me, David, when were you planning on giving me your resignation—before or after I said yes?”
Shit. My head thunks forward against the door. I crush the flowers in my arms and am poked with a card in the arm. I don’t say anything as I hear the swish of her silk-encased legs approach me.
“Open the card,” she whispers, her voice right behind my shoulder.
Reaching down, I grab the card nestled amid the bouquet of flowers. Pushing off the door a bit, I lower my head to read it aloud. “No more secrets.”
“That’s right. No more secrets. Now, turn around and tell me what the hell you want,” she demands.
A surge of love, lust, and fury rage through me as I spin to face the pint-sized sprite with a spirit as big as a giant. Flinging the flowers to the side, I stalk forward until our bodies are touching. “First, I want to know why you were sending me roses all day today? If you were pissed, why not just ask me about it.”
A beautiful smile crosses her face. “We’re busy, and with Ward coming on, we’re going to have so much more work to do. So, I decided we should get married soon. There’s a lot to be done. With all of the appointments I asked her to fit in, Angie just couldn’t manage a visit to the florist. So, I decided to send you roses. Based on your reaction, I’ve decided to go with the wine-colored ones. You seemed to like those the best,” she concludes smugly.
“So, you’re saying you were playing me, making decisions we should be making together?” I accuse.
“You’re damn right I was. Exactly how you were doing that to me. And before you get pissed, tell me how it feels to have the shoe on the other foot?” I stand there fuming while Carys’s smug smile blooms across her face. She licks her lips in anticipation before whispering, “Now, do you have a question you want to ask me?” she demands.
I advance toward her, a diabolical look on my face. I begin to undo my tie even as Carys slowly backs away from me. “Maybe,” I say offhandedly. I flick the button at my collar open. Carys’s small hands always have a problem with undoing that particular button when my shirts are overstarched.
“What?” Her voice comes out as high-pitched and screechy as Sir Walter Alfingham did when he was dumped on the red carpet during the Grammys last year.
Her back hits the wall just as I shrug off my jacket. “We have a few things to settle first.”
Her legs part as mine slips in between them. I can feel the damp heat of her pussy against the thin wool of my suit trousers. She breathlessly pants. “Like what?”
“Like this.” And pinning her hands to her sides, I lower my head and capture her lips.
Chapter Five
Carys
Even as David backs me against the wall, I can tell he’s warring between the need to fuck me or kill me.
Too damn bad. If he wanted his perfect Valentine’s Day proposal, he shouldn’t have gone out job hunting, to my brother of all people. I damn well know what he was trying to do—level some stupid, testosterone-laden playing field between us.
“Didn’t think I would find out?” I say sweetly as he approaches, his long legs eating up the distance between us as I remember the phone call from over a month ago that has set me on a knife’s edge since alternately hoping he’d pull his head out of his ass and talk with me and hoping he do exactly what he’s doing right now so I can have the pleasure of yanking it out with both of my own hands.