He still hasn’t noticed my presence, which I’m grateful for so I can appreciate him for a few moments longer undetected. If he knew what I was thinking, our working relationship would suffer greatly, and I don’t want anything coming between me and my career. He doesn’t like me; that much is clear, but I doubt he’d pass up the chance to bed me because that’s how he is—the proverbial manwhore.
As I continue to stare, I realize that maybe I haven’t given him enough credit regarding this project. He seems engrossed in the paperwork, and when he texted me last night to inform me he was reviewing the documentation, I should’ve been more supportive.
Wait, what? No! He’s had plenty of time. Our meeting is scheduled for tomorrow. We’re supposed to prep all day today before going to the military base in the morning.
Enough is enough in terms of this newfound behavior I’m exhibiting!
Squaring my shoulders and holding my head high, I enter the room with an air of confidence—I don’t quite feel the confidence bug bit me today and injected a boost, but I can probably fake it at this juncture.
“James,” I rouse him from his tedious reading. “We need to prep.”
Normally I’d make him come to me and visit my office, but I’m going directly to him so he knows I’m staying on top of him…staying on top of him about the project, I remind myself, shaking off the innuendo my brain was hinting at.
At the sound of my voice, he ceases reading and looks up. He smiles smugly and leans back in his chair like he has a secret. He continues to grin mischievously at me and delicately lifts a pen from the desk. With those long fingers, he slides the pen back and forth in an appalling manner, yet my body automatically wants to quiver.
No! I tell myself.
Now I’m fuming and possibly wearing the ugliest scowl in human history. At that, he grins even wider, knowing he’s getting to me, and winks. I push my black-rimmed glasses back in place—I don them when I need to be serious with colleagues, but I worry they’re not effective on him.
“Well, hello, El. I’ve been waiting for you to come by. Me being lead on this project, I’m glad you came to my office so we could get started.”
Damn him! My plan backfired on me. Point for him. Deb calling me several times yesterday to deliver his messages was more than enough of a reminder. Not letting him know I’m affected, because I sure do bristle easily, I school my features.
“What you did with your pen is disgusting,” I remark and fold my arms across my chest.
“I’m unsure of what you mean, El.”
The bastard wants me to say it. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.
Instead, I simply nod and give him a smart-ass look. I walk right to the seat across from his desk and proceed to sit primly on the plush cushion. While crossing my legs, it doesn’t escape my notice that he watches the movement of my knee sliding over the other. I’m wearing my sexy blue corset and panty set today, which makes me feel like a fierce bitch.
My blood-red heels ooze confidence and carnage. I can play this game with him all day because I always get what I want.
I clear my throat to get his attention. “So, on page five, paragraph four of section twelve, where it discusses the requirement of a full stack developer on-site, who will you assign the task to from our team?”
I cup my hand and examine the shiny clearcoat polish on my nails as I question him. Because I’m vindictive, I finally glance up and the deer-in-headlights look on his mug says it all. He’s now leafing through the documents to locate the information, which would give him away.
He sputters, “Umm. Uh...”
“Let me put you out of your misery there, rookie. It was a trick question; that wasn’t a part of the contract!” Once again, I fold my arms across my chest and wear the look of superiority so well.
Immediately, he’s seething. James’s audible intake of breath through his nose is louder than my gloating. I’ve gone and pissed him off well and good. Serves him right, though.
“Elodie, I just don’t understand you.” He shakes his head.
Taken aback, I scoff. I wasn’t expecting him to say this—a snarky comment would’ve been more up his alley. He’s never come outright and called me a bitch to my face, but I expected something along those lines just now. Especially since that’s what the whisperings around the office about me entail, and I don’t rightly care. My dad knows I’m shrewd and a take-no-prisoners woman. Hell, where does everyone think I learned it from? However, my dad has the human touch I overtly lack. It’s not something I can so easily give because of… I can’t even think about that time in my life and why I am the way I am today.
Since I haven’t responded, he continues to shake his head and continues on, “You’re determined to sink me at this company. Damn it, El, trickery is beneath you. Every time I think we’re turning the corner, you go the opposite direction.”
I’m rattled by this—shaken, really. I feel small and reprimanded like a child. One thing is clear: he’s right. It was a dick move on my part. What’s happened to me? At twenty-two, am I so cynical and jaded that I’m beyond the point of no return?
Feeling further chastened by the look of contempt, but also pity, in his eyes, I stand as gracefully as I can and walk on weakened knees to the door—my ego and protective shell deflated where I stand. I’m being pathetic, and I detest this quality. No type of response comes to mind, and before unshed tears threaten to fall, I’m yanked back by the arm.
I’m forced to face James, but instead of looking into his eyes, I stare at his suit-covered chest. I don’t like him seeing me like this—he’s never seen me like this. Vulnerable. Broken. Weak.
With his pointer finger in a hook shape, he gently lifts my chin. When I finally look, I suck in a sharp breath. What I see in the depths of his irises is desire and remorse. He gently pushes my glasses back up to sit on the bridge of my nose, a move he’s probably seen me do a thousand times. He’s assessing me like he’s seeing me for the first time. And for the first time, I don’t know what to do.
Then, he slowly moves his face toward mine. My muscles are locked down, and I tremble slightly. Even if I wanted to slap him or pull him closer, I couldn’t do either.
He licks his lips and murmurs, “You’re so damn tough that I sometimes forget it’s possible you can be hurt.”
A squeak escapes from my lips. Words are lodged in my airway. Do I want him to kiss me?
His lips hover over mine, and before he slants his mouth across my lips, someone clears their throat from the doorway. We break apart faster than the speed of light, and our gazes snap to the interloper. It’s my father. Shit!
Shame overtakes my emotions, and I’m also pissed. Pissed I fell for James’s charm so easily and almost let him kiss me. In the office of all places! Last night really did a number on my mind—it’s the only logical explanation.
“Am I interrupting anything?” my dad asks with no sign of disgust regarding our behavior.
“Not at all,” I snap. “I was just leaving,” I ball my hands into fists at my sides and turn to give James a look of disdain.
My dad goes on as if nothing just happened, “Well, while you’re both here, I have a proposal for you two.”