Chapter Ten
Marcel
We hired people to help us organize the paperwork so phase one can begin on the project. I had to extend my stay in Rhode Island, though I still plan to leave before Christmas. The temporary workers were hired to make sure the marketing packets are assembled and the first phase blueprints and construction packets go out to the building group and investors. We have a lot of paper to send off in the next few days before we break ground on the project. I need to get money flowing, so informing investors is our first priority.
At the end of the hall in the bullpen where we have all the temps putting the papers together, I hear loud laughter which is too disruptive and careless for the quiet office. I’m pissed when I push open the door to find a handful of assistants outright laughing at one of the blueprints.
“What the hell is going on in here?” My voice booms across the room and then I see her.
Juliet.
Are my eyes playing tricks on me? I nearly have a heart attack. She’s holding a stack of papers and looks white as a ghost. Her cheeks are still flushed from laughing, but the shock of seeing me makes me think she isn’t expecting me to be here. All kinds of chaotic thoughts are crossing my mind. Is shestalking me? Would I be mad if she was? I mean, what haveIbeen doing for the last thirty-six hours, stopping only to eat, sleep, and work? I’ve been trolling the internet and staking out her grandmother’s house with the conviction of a serial killer.
The sight of her here, here, in my world, sucks the air out of my lungs. Her eyes go wide, and I feel the shock mirrored in my heart before I lock it down. I can’t let her see the way she makes me feel. I can’t let her know I’ve thought of nothing but her since she walked away from me at the airport.
“What are you doing here?” I scold more harshly than I should.
The other assistants glance between us like they’ve just stumbled into the middle of a good piece of drama.
She finds her composure and addresses me. “Mr. Dubois …” but her voice is thin and brittle.
I take a step closer, deliberately making sure the room feels my authority.
“This isn’t just a coincidence.” I make a bold accusation, sharp, and directed right at her.
I’m not hard to find on the internet, but I do pay a company handsomely to manage my online footprint. There is no way she’d know I was involved in this project unless she had some sort of insider knowledge. Could she have hired a private investigator?
She laughs, nervously, defensive. “I guess it’s not, since there aren’t that many architecture firms in Rhode Island. I thought I mentioned to you that I’m getting a degree in architectural restoration." Now she’s being snarky andcondescending. “Sometimes the only way to win the war is to infiltrate the enemy.” She gives me a cold glance. “I’d like to get back to work now if that’s alright with you, Mr. Dubois.” She’s vicious — I fucking love it; her.
I stare at Juliet, searching her face for ... what? A better explanation for being here, or a sign she wasn’t with that blond bastard from the airport? I’m trying to impart a mental telepathy neither of us possess, to try and make this moment make sense.
“Follow me to my office,” I order because I can’t have this conversation in front of the others.
She huffs like it’s all one big fucking inconvenience, sets her papers down and follows me out of the room. As soon as we are out of earshot, I lay into her.
“I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” I say quietly and the words come out rougher than I’d like. “And I meant it.”
“I know you did,” she answers, chin tilted up in challenge. “My aunt is the owner of the company that hires your assistants. I’m here at her insistence. I thought some Singaporean investment group was in charge of this project. Why are you here?” She’s now accusing me.
“I’m the money,”
I want to grab her into the office they assigned me and bend her over the generic white couch. I’ll close the fucking shades and rail her until she can’t spout off her fucking snarky mouth again. I want her sex drunk, floppy, and filled with my cum. It’s a horrible possessive fantasy, but I need to control her, own her, and make her mine. What is the first thing I doas soon as I get her into my office? Look at her beautiful, sweet, confused face and I’m flooded with guilt.
“You should’ve said something,” I mutter.
“Until yesterday, I didn’t know I had this job and certainly didn’t have a clue you were involved until right now. What else am I supposed to tell you? I was a fun diversion, something to pass the time on a terrifying flight. Well, it is terrifying for me in more ways than one. But newsflash, Grinch: I have a real life and I exist outside of a mile high fuck in an airplane suite. I may have been just a pussy to you, but I have feelings and friends and you where my first, so fuck off and let me go home. I’ll get my aunt to find me something else.” She’s about to push past me and leave, the little brat, but I step in her way to stop her.
My shoulders tighten, and for a moment, I consider apologizing, then I remind myself who I am. Who she is.
“Don’t cause trouble, Juliet.” I keep my tone cold, clipped.
Her mouth twists into something that might be a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I can’t cause trouble if I’m not here, so let me go. It’s already forty-five minutes past our contracted end of day; you’re in violation of labor codes.”
She doesn’t know fuck about labor laws, but I like the gall it takes to pretend she does.
“You’re getting overtime, that’s also in your contract,” I say dryly.
“I’m getting out of here,” she muscles past me and I grab her arm.
