Brielle and I finish the drive in tense silence. When I pull up to her apartment complex, I reach to open my door.
“Don’t even think about it,” she hisses, jumping out of the car and turning to go.
She stops short and turns back around to me. I roll the passenger-side window down, my brow rising in interest.
“I’m still showing up to work on Monday, right?”
Fuck. This woman.
“Yes, Brielle. I expect you there at 9:00 a.m. on the dot, like any other employee.”
She nods her head quickly, sashaying away from me. She probably has a sexy little sway to her ass, but all I can see is the back of her puffer jacket, making her look like an adorably irritated pale blue marshmallow.
Chapter 8
Brielle
Iwalkintotheoffice on Monday with my head held high, acting like I don’t have a care in the world.
Looking for a sugar daddy?Phh.
And he thinks if I were, that I would choose him, of all people?
Sure, he’s attractive, with those dark eyes and long lashes, the flawless olive skin, and sexy, dark stubble.
But he can take his bad attitude and misdirected frustration and shove it. He has no idea how close he came to losing that account. If Pam were against us, there was no way in the world that Leon would overrule her. He’s still smitten with his wife after all these years, and more than that, he trusts her judgment.
We were in a sinking ship, and I righted us, whether he wants to believe it or not.
I glance at his glass-walled office as I walk by. His heavy wooden door is closed, and like usual, the blinds are drawn, but the slats are open. Through the slight peeks into his office, I see him at his desk already. His dark hair is so perfectly in place, I find myself wanting to go in there just to ruffle it up.
He glances up, and I quickly look away, making my way down the running hallway to the accounting office. I’m the first one in, so I set myself up and start to play some music on my phone, figuring I have at least fifteen minutes before Rui or Erica show up. They both get in for exactly 9:00 a.m., I’ve noticed, but I like to get an early start. Not because I just love staring at my computer screen, but walking to work can sometimes mean detours or hazards slowing things down, especially in the winter.
I’ve barely got the computer applications open to pick up where I left off on Friday when I hear him.
“What in God’s name is that noise?” He doesn’t yell, but his voice is firm and authoritative. I listen intently for a second, trying to see if I can hear anything either.
I shut my music off, straining my head toward the door.
“Thank you,” he grits out.
Oh, hell no.He can’t be talking about my music.
First of all, it’s classic rock. Who doesn’t love classic rock?
And second of all, it was barely above a whisper. Does he have the offices bugged or something?
I test the theory and put the music back on. At this point, a few more people have shown up in the office, but it’s still pretty empty. Which means that conversation is at a minimum compared to what it’s like once everyone is in.
Stomping echoes down the hallway, slow, steady steps making an ominous thud with each one.
He stops at my office and glares inside. His nostrils flare, his dark eyes on me making my heart beat faster. And not because I’m afraid of him.
“Mr. Edgerton, um, hi. Good morning,” Erica says, pressing her back to the doorframe as tightly as possible to slip into the office without so much as grazing him. Her eyes snap to mine with fear.
“Morning, Erica,” I say brightly.
“Morning, Bri.” She stumbles up to her desk and quickly gets herself situated.
