We step into the lift and Henry rubs a comforting circle over my back, soothing my anxiety.
I shoot Henry a thankful smile and I blow out a deep breath when the lift pings and the doors slide open.
Max is there. Perched on the edge of Molly’s desk while she leans forward, batting her lashes and pushing out her tits.
That’smymove.
Ugh. I hate the wave of annoyance that rushes through me, my skin heating as I watch the exchange.
Am Ijealous?
Ew.
What is happening to me? I don’t get jealous. I like Molly. It’s notherfault that Max is flirting with her. Andto be honest, I can hardly blame the woman. The man is sex on legs.
Molly’s only ever been friendly toward me and works her arse off for Henry and the rest of the executive team. She’s a wonderful secretary. It infuriates me that Max has somehow unlocked emotions I thought I’d successfully buried years ago. I’m Gemma Clarke, for crying out loud—I make other people jealous. This is uncharted territory, and I don’t like it one bit. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of not giving a shit, and now I’m suddenly possessive over a man I barely know.
It must be stress.
It’s the only feasible explanation. Or simply that I haven’t had a decent shag in weeks and I have all this pent-up stress that Tim couldn’t assist me with.
Yeah, that’s it.
I’m just horny.
“You’ve got this. We’ll be totally fine,” Henry says, cutting through my mini meltdown.
I tear my eyes away from Max, forcing myself to remember what matters here. My career.
Molly’s phone rings, and Max casts his gaze away from her while she answers it in hushed tones.
Max turns his head, immediately locking eyes with me.
“Gemma, good morning,” he says, nodding in acknowledgment.
It’s like staring into twin oceans, crystal blue whirlpools pulling me under and losing me to infinity. I almost forget to breathe. He’s so handsome it’s offensive.
The corner of his lips tugs upward as he stands to full height, straightening the lapels of his navy jacket.
His eyes heat as he watches me move toward him, as if he’s tracked down fresh prey. Instinct tells me to ignore him because he was just caught flirting with the executive team’s secretary, but my body hasn’t got the memo.
“Max,” I reply, lifting my chin in greeting. “Good morning.”
“How was your weekend?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
My eyes turn to slits. “Great, thanks. How was yours?”
He shrugs, smirking. “Could have been better.”
The turd. He’s referring to Friday night.
“Good to see you,” Henry interrupts, stepping forward to shake his hand.
“You too, mate,” Max says, shaking his hand and clapping Henry on the shoulder.
Molly hangs up the phone. “Max, Henry, and Gemma, that was Chadwick. He’s ready for you now.”
“Thanks, Molly,” Max says, shooting her a panty-dropping smile. I clench my jaw.
