I slowly lean back and peek across Gina’s head to Lainey, just to see if I can find any signs of her thoughts. She’s looking straight ahead, her body still and definitely tense. What’s she thinking? “Fuck,” I say over a cough when an elbow sinks into my ribs, courtesy of Gina. Fucking hell. I shoot my stare forward again, grimacing. And as soon as the doors open, Lainey is gone like a greyhound after a rabbit.
“Well, she’s in a rush,” Gina muses.
“I didn’t notice.”
“Puurrrlease.” Gina laughs. I don’t hang around, my pace speeding up to get me away from her. I slam my door behind me and land on my sofa with a thud, my hands going straight to my hair and pulling. Fucking hell, my head could explode. My mind doesn’t feel like my own. My body is out of control. And don’t even get me started on my dick. Lainey’s annoyingly intriguing and so fucking beautiful it hurts.
The door swings open and shuts in quick succession. “You so want to fuck her,” Gina blurts, her heels padding toward me. “You’re desperate to screw her, and you’re acting all weird because you can’t.”
My denial is left too long to be believed. I already have! And it was amazing. And I want more. “I don’t want to fuck her,” I say on an exhale. I sound weak, lacking any kind of conviction.
“Pull the other one.” Gina laughs. “The tension in that elevator was torturous.”
I stand, my frustration getting the better of me. “Since when has it been in your job description to fucking nag me?” I yell, making her cower a little. I immediately feel shitty for it, but I’m stuck for anything else to do. Usually she’d come back at me with a short, snappy—maybe even sarcastic—retort, but her shocked face tells me that isn’t going to happen this time. I can’t give her anything to cling on to. I know Gina, and I also know that she can be a bulldog when she wants to be. She’s also highly protective and loyal to her boss. She won’t think twice about pulling Lainey to one side and warning her away. I told Lainey it won’t get out. I meant it. As far as I know, she’s still seeing other men . . . and that just fucks with my head as much as her sporadic veneer of disinterest. Do I want to fuck her again? Abso-fucking-lutely. Do I want to get to know her? Fuck, yes, I think I do. Do I want Gina on Lainey’s arse? No. “I don’t know how many times I have to spell it out to you,” I say calmly. “There’s absolutely nothing. No attraction, nothing. Do you think I’d be so stupid to get involved with an employee?” I stomp over to my desk and slam my arse down in my chair. “Haven’t you got work to do?”
Gina backs away to the door, but I won’t look at her. It’ll only enhance my guilt. “Right, boss,” she says, leaving my office.
I listen as the door closes softly, and then slam my fists down on my desk. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Turning to my computer, I search for Lainey’s work email address. I need to speak to her. I need to . . . just speak to her. I don’t know where we stand after last night, and it’s driving me insane. I locate her email and start hammering away at the keys.
* * *
Re: Drowning here.
Lainey,
That was awful. I don’t want it to be like that every time we see each other at work.
Can we talk?
Best,
Ty
Chief Executive Officer
Christianson Walker Ltd.
* * *
I rest back in my chair and wait for a reply, but ten minutes later, I’m still sitting at my desk twiddling my pen, waiting for the email icon to pop up with her name. This in itself is fucking horrific. The waiting. The unknown. She must have checked her email. She’ll have seen the one from me. So why hasn’t she fucking responded? “Damn her.” I get up from my chair and leave my office, ignoring Gina’s traveling eyes as I pass.
I make it to Sal’s end of the floor, but Lainey’s not at her desk. I approach Sal’s office, listening carefully to see if I can hear her in there. Nothing. “Where is she?” I mutter to myself.
“Who?”
I turn and find Jase standing behind me with a pile of files. My hackles instantly raise. There’s absolutely no reason for him to be in this neck of the woods. No reason at all, which means he’s here for one reason and one reason alone. My lip starts to tug into a curl. “Lainey,” I growl.
“Oh.” He grins a grin that I immediately want to slap off his face. “In the kitchen getting coffees.” He winks, places some files on Lainey’s desk, and starts to stroll off. “I thought I’d drop those off for my assistant.”
“Course you did,” I mutter, heading for the kitchen. Because when you have a personal assistant, you do their job for them. Twat.
I feel full of conviction as I get closer to the kitchen, set to put straight the issue between Lainey and me, and also maybe set on finding out where her head is at. I need to know. Will I experience that overwhelming perfect chaos again?
When I reach the entrance, Lainey has her back to me, her hands working the coffee machine, but she definitely tenses. She knows I’m here. It thrills me. But the thought that she’s ignored my email riles me.
“Hey,” I say softly, coming to a stop next to her and taking a cup. “I emailed you.”
“You did?” she asks, so unconvincingly. “Sorry, been busy.”
“Right.” I look at her. She’s stirring her coffee into a whirlpool, anything to busy herself so she doesn’t have to look at me. “If you wanted froth, you should have selected cappuccino.”
She laughs softly, and it’s like music to my ears. “My bad.” The stirring slows and she places the spoon gently on the worktop.
“Lainey, about—”
“Ty.” Callie comes barreling into the cafe and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “I have the storyboard ready for the Dior ad,” she tells me excitedly. “Can you spare an hour?”
“Good work,” I answer swiftly, hoping she’ll leave. “Call Gina and have her arrange something.”
“Great.” She disappears, leaving just Lainey and me again, but Lainey obviously isn’t cool with that. She takes her coffee and heads for the door. “Lainey,” I call, the urgency of her name making the pace of her feet quicken. Oh no. She’s not running away. Not after that kiss last night, and definitely not after the way she looked at me before she closed the door. No way. I rush forward and block the doorway, forcing her to a stop. “Just hold up one minute,” I say in my softest tone.
“Mr. Christianson, we’re at work.”
“You think I don’t realize where we are, Lainey?”
“And you shouldn’t be emailing me on the work system. Anyone could see.”
“The I.T department only goes into the server on Sal’s or my request. No one will see.”
“Still, it’s inappropriate.”
Inappropriate? She should see inside my head. Keeping my frustration at bay, I move forward, forcing her backward steps, and close the door, shutting her in with me. “You resisting me has nothing to do with me being your boss, does it?”