I turn to him and offer a tentative smile. Can he tell that my pulse is racing? He probably thinks I’m a weirdo for ever suggesting that we hold hands.
“Well, this is me,” I chuckle awkwardly at my door.
“It is.” We stand at the door, tension growing as we stare at each other. He leans in, and I instinctively tilt my chin up to him. His spicy cologne invades my senses. My eyes flutter as he closes the small gap between us. “Good night, Brielle,” he whispers in my ear, sending a shiver down my body.
“Good night.” My breathy voice betrays the rapid rate of my pulse, and I hope he doesn’t notice.
Damian takes a step back and waits until I unlock the door before turning to leave.
It isn’t like I wanted him to kiss me. Still, I pretend like the pang of disappointment isn’t there as I close the door behind me.
Chapter 10
Damian
It’sonly3:30p.m.,but unlike most days, I shut down my computer, preparing to leave. I have to head back to my apartment for a quick shower and change before picking up my date for the Northeast Regional Association of Marketers and Advertising dinner.
I hate these networking dinners almost as much as I hate being set up on a date by my mother.
And yet, here I am, doing both of those things.
I step out of my office and almost barrel into a little dark-haired bumblebee.
“Oh, are you leaving already?” Brielle asks. She’s wearing a bright yellow sweater with black stripes on it. On anyone else, it would look ridiculous, but she manages to make it work. My gaze snags on her full, wide lips. The lips that I very nearly made the mistake of tasting the other night.
The question of whether she would have let me has kept me up the past few nights. Partly because I’m pretty damn sure the answer is yes. And partly because that doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should.
Kissing an employee is a recipe for disaster, so why do I find myself replaying that night with distinctly alternate endings?
“Yes. I have a networking dinner. Is this important?” I almost want her to say yes just so I have a reason to stall. After I dropped her off on Friday, we didn’t speak again for the rest of the weekend. I debated about reaching out, but I didn’t trust my motives. A little distance was probably for the best. Besides, I didn’t want to commandeer her personal time, especially since that will be exactly what I do next weekend.
Louisa glances up from her desk in front of my door.
“No. It’s fine. I just wanted to let you know that I pulled last year’s financial numbers by account like you requested. I also included the last three years’ history, if it was available, and provided trend graphs and analytics. It’s in your email.”
“Thank you, Brielle. I’ll look at it in the morning.”
She nods and walks back down the hallway toward her office. When I turn back, I catch Louisa’s eye, a stunned expression on her face.
“What?” I gripe.
“Did you just explain yourself to the new girl?” she asks.
“Brielle. And no. I don’t explain myself to anyone. I simply told her that I was leaving.”
“You told her where you were going,” she counters. That’s true. “And you thanked her.”
I level a hard look at Louisa, not that she is in any way affected by it despite my best efforts. “I would thank you more often, too, if you spent more time working and less time talking.”
Louisa just laughs, which is fair. She’s the best damn assistant I’ve hired. I would be lost without her, and she knows that.
I stop by my apartment first. After a quick shower, I don my blackest suit, black dress shirt, and insanely expensive black shoes for this farce of an event. The drive into Cambridge takes longer than itshould. The traffic in this city is out of control, and it’s making my bad mood at having to attend this stupid dinner even worse.
I was feeling fine about this event earlier today. These networking dinners are never high on my list of things to do, but they’re important for making connections and hearing what the competition has been up to. Maybe it’s because I have to bring Sasha Tilman with me that has me sinking into a sullen mood.
Sasha’s mother and my mother are recent friends, which in my mother’s eyes means that her daughter is my newest prospect.
Despite my parents getting along fairly well for a divorced couple, the one thing they have never been able to agree on is my love life. Where my father would prefer I stay away from any sort of commitment that could sabotage my business down the road, my mother wants to see me married with a brood of mini Damians running around.
