My fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and touch him. Slide my hand up his chest, then back down. Slip my fingers into the waistband of his slacks, brush my fingers along his thigh, getting close to where his dick is but never touching it.
“That is not an option, Mr. Brantly. That’s fine. You can have your lawyers reach out to my legal team, but I assure you, this is a mistake.” He grunts, then hangs the phone up, still never taking his eyes from me.
“What are you thinking, sweetness?” he asks.
Sweetness? That’s new. He hasn’t called me anything other than Miss Sinclair while at work, and Seraphine when we’re anywhere else.
“Nothing,” I breathe out.
He shifts on his feet, leaning closer to me.
“Liar.”
His desk phone rings and still he doesn’t budge, doesn’t take those grey eyes from mine. Not until the third ring, when he grabs it to answer.
“Elliot Caldwell.”
I don’t move. I stay right where I am, feet planted, inches from him. I won’t look down, but I know my hand is close. Close enough to touch him and see how well he responds to my touch. Will it be the same as when I was massaging him? Will this powerful man melt under my touch, or will he keep himself together, the same way he is now? Because we’re at work and that’s what we have to do?
“Remove all men from the site. He’s reaching out to his lawyers, so I’ll get Jack on it. Do not answer his calls or speak to him. Everything needs to go through the legal team now. Yes. I’ll have Jack update you when we know something.”
Hanging up the phone again, his eyes narrow the slightest bit.
“Before you start up this little game, you better know what you’re getting yourself into,” he warns.
I smile internally, loving how he can read my mind. But when he backs up, I frown.
“Get your things. We’re going to lunch,” he says again.
This time I listen.
Chapter Seventeen
Elliot
I forget how difficult working with the city is. Their deadlines are ridiculous, the demands are even worse. With everything official for Caldwell Enterprises to take this project, I’m working late into the night to get everything prepared for them. They need proposals, plans, names of everyone who will be working on the job, and the time frames. I get that they want all of this, most people do, however they give us much less time to do it.
Typically, this wouldn’t be something I’d work on, but considering this is the biggest project I’ve ever had with the city, I’d rather do it myself.
Well, with the help of Seraphine, of course.
“How are you doing?” I ask as she takes a break to stretch. It’s late, near midnight at this point, and we’re both exhausted from looking at tiny numbers and words printed on paper for hours.
“Just tired.”
I sip from my glass of wine, then return it to the table.
The dining room isn’t where I would normally do my business, as I have an office for that, but Seraphine had a point when she said the space in here will make it easier to work. We have everything spread out over the large dining table, with plenty of room for more if we need to see them. I’d prefer being cramped and closer to her, but it is what it is.
“I mean with everything, not just this project.”
“Oh.” She pauses her stretch, dropping her hands to her side. “I’m… okay.”
It seems she hasn’t handled much of anything. As if she’s holding back all the hurt and pain she’s dealt with over the last couple of months. The breakup with my son and her father’s death. Not to mention everything that came along with that, like the new job and new place to live. She’s had a lot of changes in a short amount of time, and I don’t think she’s quite taken the time to process everything, even though she swore she has.
“Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” I ask.
She smiles at me. “No offense, Mr. Caldwell, but you don’t seem like the therapist type.”
