“Diamonds are born from pressure, Oliver,” he breathes.
“Are you calling me adiamond, Sir?”
“That depends,” he says.
“On what?”
“On how pretty you shine when you crack.”
I look away from him. The anger boils inside of me like a pressure cooker, and I feel like I’m about to explode. It’s not just the fact I put the time in. He’s right, I did make mistakes. One of them being I trusted him. Trusted he was good and just, and forgiving…
But the man in front of me does not feel so forgiving. But as angry as I am, there is also sadness.
I failed.
I failed to do my job, and he’s making it known how much of a failure I am, and that does not feel good.
“Did you ever intend to look at that list?” I ask bitterly, crossing my arms.
Sloane smirks.
“Do you want the truth, Oliver?” He breathes my name like it’s something luxurious. On his tongue it sounds so fancy. So pretty.
I hate that I want to hear him say it over and over in ways that I shouldn’t.
“Yes. Sir,” I snap.
He lets out a dark sigh. “No. I did not intend to look at your list.”
Motherfucker.
I let out a heavy grunt, shaking my head.
“The list itself was a test. I wanted to see if you would obey me. And you did.” He adds, “Even if it took you longer than you promised.”
My lip quivers with anger. I don’t know where it’s coming from. Yes, I’m mad he basically made me do all this work for nothing, but…
It feels like it’s more than that. Like several years of anger have been unearthed by his luscious voice, by his woody-leather scent and his breath that still smells like chocolate.
He pouts, and the sight should not be as sexy as it is.
He should not look so fucking sexy right now in his nice pressed suit with his slightly messy hair and those sharp blue eyes.
I don’t want to look at him. But I can’t help it, either. He’s like gravity, and I am being sucked in whether I want to fight it or not.
“Don’t be sour, darling," he says as he stands, coming to the edge of his desk. He rests his fingers there, looking at me, but I can’t look at him.
I’m pissed and my body is hot like a flame and my dick is hard again and nothing is making sense right now. I can barely breathe, yet…
Yet I can’t find it in myself to tell him to fuck off like I desperately want to.
I could have spent that time compiling his list, doing anything else. Things that certainly would have mattered. Things that would have been more beneficial tohim.To the company. But instead, he treated me not like a trusted, respected assistant who was capable of doing their job, but like achild.
Like a brat who needed to be punished.
And that pisses me off, but…
It also turns me on. It stirs something inside of me, that fucked up part of me thatlikesto be mistreated.
