Jaw aching, pulse hammering, I almost rip the door from its hinges to get out of this glass box as soon as physically possible. Annoyingly the expensive, soundless doorstop installed halts the glass from smashing satisfyingly against the wall, but I walk on, ahead of Thomas McAvoy.
“The exit is this way, Mr Millen,” he calls, as I go to tread the same path we took to get to the boardroom.
I have no real choice but to follow him, my steps keeping pace with his until he comes to a stop in front of a small cubicle.
My green eyes meet her blue orbs, seeing the flash of surprise dance across her pretty features.
“Blake…”
“Mr Millen here was missing a signature,” Thomas pipes up, taking Calla’s attention for his own. I hate him for it. “But don’t worry, I handled it.”
“You…” Calla flicks her gaze between the two of us.
“Didn’t you stand by to ensure Mr Millen had signed everything, Miss Becker?”
“Of course, I did.” Calla swallows down her little white lie. She’s got a good poker face; I’ll give her that. “I must have—”
Unable to stand it a second longer, I will my feet to move, picking a direction – ahead – and going with it. Surely, if I just keep moving, a maze like this place will just spit me out onto the street.
“Blake! Blake—”
Screwing my eyes shut, for a heartbeat, at the sound of Calla’s pleas, I keep on walking, ignoring the boiling hot urge to look behind me.
Chapter 13
Calla
“Great job today, ladies!” coos Giselle, the leader of the dance class I’ve been attending for the better half of eight months. “Let’s do some stretches to cool down, shall we?”
Slipping my heels from my feet with an audible groan, I lengthen my legs out before me, feeling my hamstring stretch. When I’m able to, my muscles feeling less tight with each inhale and exhale, I wrap my hands around the outsides of my pointed feet, bringing my nose to my bare knees.
By the time I’ve run through a series of stretches, my body feels like a limp noodle; pleasantly pliable.
“Hey.” A shoulder bumps mine gently as I greedily suck down mouthfuls of water from my reusable bottle. I glance along to find Giselle grinning at me. She doesn’t look like someone who just kept pace while she busted our arses in this afternoon’s class. In fact, she hardly has a hair out of place, each black-haired strand still clipped together by her tortoiseshell claw clip, except for her long fringe artfully framing her pretty flushed face.
I smile back at her softly. “Hey, Gee.”
“Did you enjoy today’s class?”
“Loved it as always.”
“Good.” She bumps her shoulder against mine again. “I noticed you’d missed a few classes recently and I—”
“Life’s just been busy,” I lie.
Giselle nods. “I get that. But I just didn’t want you to feel awkward because of me dating Blake’s younger brother and you know—”
“It’s fine,” I say with a wave of my hand. “There’s nothing for either of us to feel awkward about. It’s not like Blake and I together.”
“Right… but you’ve slept together?”
“Yep.”
“Prior to showing his around his new apartment?”
“Yep.”
“And now…”
