Flattening my palms down the front of my skirt and straightening my jacket, I pull myself back together and say, “Red is assertive. Blue is calming. I like to appear both in charge and...approachable.”
“You do,” he says quickly. “Very much so.”
His tone sounds like he might be lying a little bit. Or maybe he just stopped seeing me as “in charge” after I threw up in front of him.
“Are you ready?” I ask. A swarm of butterflies migrates from my lower intestine to my xiphoid process. We edited the presentation together in my office all morning; him with a chair pulled up beside mine, his knees brushing the cabinet under my desk. It’s as good as it could be and exactly what we need to land this client. I can handle Grimes the way he needs to be handled all while telling him I can handle him the way he thinks he wants. But Richard is an unknown quantity in this meeting and that’s where these butterflies are coming from. He’s never asked to sit in on a client meeting before. If this is the kind of micromanagement I can expect, I’m not sure that the promotion is worth it.
Wesley pauses, like he’s assessing if he is, in fact, ready.
“Yes.” He nods once. Wesley studies me; the butterflies turn into wasps. He looks like he wants to ask me if I’m ready, too.
I don’t want to have to lie.
He nods again. “You’re ready.”
I blink at him as he steps past me, a crooked smile on his face, and opens the meeting room door. “After you, Ms. Blunt.”
I take a deep breath. Let the wasps stay. I’ll use them on Richard.
The meeting goes about as well as expected. Like a group of uncles and grandfathers indulging a granddaughter as she plays make-believe. But Grimes is satisfied at least.
“Well done, Corrine!” Richard’s voice booms as everyone else files out. The room is too warm and dim. All the furniture is dark brown and overtly masculine.
A grimy feeling slicks my skin, a reaction triggered by Richard’s voice and the inevitable touching that will happen. Wesley pauses as he chats with Thomas, the COO. I hold his eyes for a few moments.Stay. Please stay.
In the span of twenty-four hours this man has become my ally. Or maybe he was all along and I never saw it.
Richard speaks too loudly for how close he stands but I don’t hear what he says. My attention keeps flickering over his shoulder to where Wesley leans against the wall.
“You know,” Richard says, his voice softening in what I think is meant to be a seductive tone. There it is—he lifts his hand, cupping my elbow. “We could talk about this more over dinner tonight.”
I look at my shoes to hide the flush on my skin. It never matters how wrong I know he is, there’s always a part of me that thinks I did or said something to lead him on, to make him think I am interested, that any of this is okay.
But it’s not okay. None of his behavior is. And now not only has he invaded my personal space, talked down to me, touched me without my permission, he’s asked me out—in front of my intern—like I’m some woman in a bar and not a person who has helped to make his company a lot of money.
Adrenaline hardens my spine as I meet Richard’s steel-gray eyes.Fuck him.
“I’m sorry, Richard. That won’t be possible.”
Richard frowns. I don’t think he hears no often enough.
“Mr. Chambers,” I say, catching his eye. “We have a lot of work to do.”
Richard turns, realizing, I think, that Wesley is still here. He pales as Wesley stands straighter. Richard steps back and I can breathe again.
“Of course,” he mutters. “Of course.”
Richard regains himself as he strides out of the room in long steps. “Well done, Wesley.”
Wesley doesn’t say anything back. He looks at me. I pretend to collect the papers on the table for an excuse not to meet his eyes.
“Is everything...okay?” he asks.
“It’s fine,” I mutter. The only thing worse than experiencing that moment with Richard would be talking about it with Wesley right now.
“Did he just...” He pauses, his mouth puckering like he doesn’t like the taste of the word in his mouth. “Was he asking...”
“I said, it’s fine, Mr. Chambers,” I snap.
