"Oh, I'm sorry. Go." She goes to stand up, but I pull her back down.
"Not yet. Tell me what’s bothering you."
She goes quiet for a moment, her eyes roaming around the room. "You know, it can wait. Go get that job and we can talk later."
A smile grows on her face and I have an urge to kiss her. Cupping her cheeks in my hand, I pull her mouth to mine. It's a soft, gentle kiss, but it offers me all that I need at this moment. For the longest time, I thought I was broken and I'd never be whole again. After the accident, I was sure that I would spend my life alone. Now, I'm feeling things again and while it's scary as hell, it's exciting. I want to explore every emotion I've swept away and I want to share them with Mia.
With both of her legs at my side, I sweep my hand up her skirt. "How about we celebrate before the boss takes his office back next week? Let me help chase away whatever has you down."
I can tell she's someone who likes a thrill, much like me. What better thrill than fucking on our boss’s couch. Shit. I pull back. "Does this office have cameras?"
She chuckles. "Not a chance. Mr. Glasson would never allow eyes on him at all times." She shifts until she’s straddling my lap.
I'm not sure how she knows this as a temp, but I take her word for it.
Our mouths meet again in a tantalizing kiss that has my cock throbbing. I grind upward, then we both freeze when the door flies open.
“What the hell is going on in here?” It’s a masculine voice, one I’ve heard before.
Mia drops her head on my shoulder and mumbles, “Shit.”
I look over her shoulder and see Lance Glasson, standing there with a heavy scowl on his face. “Up,” I tell Mia as I try to shift her body off me. This is not good. There is a very good possibility that I’m leaving this office without a job.
Mia backs up and gets to her feet. “Lance, I can explain.”
“You,” he points to me with a folder in his hands, “Out. Now.”
Ignoring him, I whisper to Mia, “You ok?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I can handle him. You should go.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with that guy. Not a chance in hell.”
“Now!” Lance shouts even louder and it’s taking everything in me not to shout back. How dare he talk to us like this. Granted, this is his dad’s office, but Mia is just a temporary intern and there is no way I’m going to leave and let him tear into her.
Mia places a calming hand on my arm. “I’ll be fine. He doesn’t intimidate me. Go to your meeting about the job and I’ll call you later.”
After reading her face for a few seconds, she doesn’t falter, so I do as she asked. I lean forward to kiss her cheek before I leave, but stop myself. Probably not the best time for that.
With my shoulders drawn back and my eyes dipped into a vicious V, I stalk past Glasson Junior, eyeing him until I’m at the door and he’s behind me.
“I’ll deal with you later,” he says, in a serious tone, directed at me.
I bite my tongue, holding back everything I want to say to this douchebag. I walk out the open door and hope like hell that I get this other job, so I don’t have to deal with the stuck-up Glasson family ever again.
Chapter Thirteen
Mira
My heart sinks into my stomach as soon as the office door closes. Lance is giving me that look again. The one that screams disappointment and shame. “He’s a friend of mine,” I say, shrugging my shoulders like it’s no big deal. I walk past him, avoiding eye contact, and take a seat at Dad’s desk.
“You let all your friends feel you up in Dad’s office?” Lance comes toward me, stopping in front of the desk. He leans forward and slams a folder on the table. “Or just the ones you pick up at Tito’s.”
I knew this was coming. Of course Lance read the stories and posts about me. It doesn’t lessen the guilt or shame that I feel, because Lance always makes me feel like I’m two-feet tall.
Playing it off like it’s nothing, I smile and throw my hands up. “What’s the big deal, Lance? Am I not allowed to have a life?”
“Open the folder.” When I just sit there and continue to look at him, being the stubborn pain in the ass that I am, he opens it for me. “See this,” he slaps a paper in front of me, “that’s an article posted on Hollywood Now’s website about you hanging out at the bar in Tito’s, and the next paragraph mentions you’ve been at Glasson daily.”
“So what?” I mean the words. So.fucking.what? I am so tired of being hidden away like my life's in danger. It’s not. I’m not a child anymore and my dad cannot protect me forever. I plan on telling Sawyer everything, so none of it even matters.
“Are you trying to give Dad a heart attack? You’ve already put enough stress on him, doesn’t he deserve a break?”
“How dare you?” I shove the papers away and stand up. My hands press to the desk and I lean into the space between us. “All my life you’ve treated me like I was an inconvenience in your life. Every day I’ve had to walk on eggshells because I didn’t want to piss you off. Don’t talk to me about stress, when I’ve got the weight of the fucking world on my shoulders.” Tears prick the corners of my eyes, so I pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping to stop them. Lance would just love to see me break down.
“You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders? What about me? I’m trying to keep this company afloat because our dad won’t be here much longer. When he’s not, all of the weight sits on me.”
At least he didn’t mention me sleeping with his best friend this time. That’s a plus.
“Look. I messed up. Again. I’m really trying, Lance. I even pitched my ideas to Layla and they were good. They were really good.” I thought they were anyway.
“And?”
I shake my head. "She didn't like them." My heart twinges. My last two months in Provence I spent researching the company, coming up with ideas, and starting my design. I guess it was all just wishful thinking. Maybe I don't have an eye for art, after all.
"So what are you doing about it?"
My eyes shoot up to Lance, who's now standing tall with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. "What do you mean? Now, I start looking for a job somewhere else because Dad will never take me seriously if I can't do one simple thing like make a water bottle design."
"The design team here is one of the best in the world. Don't sell yourself short. Layla is tough as nails. What I don't understand is why you're giving up already."
Wait. Are Lance and I actually having a civil conversation? "Are you insinuating that I should keep going with my design and present it again? The rejection the first time was hard enough. I'm not sure I'm willing to go through that again."
Lance takes a seat on the corner of the desk and begins fidgeting with the pocket of his suit jacket. "Did you know that it took two years after graduate school for Dad to hire me? My own father. All because he didn't think I was ready. Told me I needed to get a job and gain some experience before jumping into the position as COO."