I lift my leg to show off the pointed, black, stiletto heels. "I got this suit on sale at Zara. I haven't worn it yet. You sure I don't look stupid?"
Usually, confidence is something I wear with ease, at least on the outside, but today, thismeetingwith Miller, I'm more anxious than I've been in a while, and the time it took me to decide on what to wear this morning almost made me late for work.
I had to go with something I could wear both to the office and to the dinner, something that would be accepted at the restaurant we're going to, without being too over the top. I mean, after all, this is a work meeting, not a date.
"You look hot as fuck, Cora." Tara covers her mouth. "Just don't tell HR I said that, I don't want to get fired."
If only HR knew that my boss was a womanizer who ended up dead, the cause of death the numerous stab wounds inflicted by yours truly...I'd be the one fired, not her.
It wouldn't put it past them to have known he was a piece of shit, though. Men always seem to get away with toeing the line of what's right and wrong, and as long as no one does anything to stop them, they'll continue to push it.
The minute hand on the clock by my desk ticks over, signaling that it's time to leave the office.
I stand and brush off my pants. "And as a matter of fact, I'm meeting a client," I tell Tara, not that it's any of her business. I have no reason to withhold that information and Tara is the one person in this office that I actually don't dislike. Everyone else seems to act nice to people's faces and then talk shit behind their backs. Tara has never done that, at least not that I'm aware of. We gossip, that's for sure, but it isn't anything that isn't already common knowledge or that we wouldn't say straight to someone.
Tara raises her brows. "Ohh," she purrs. "Is he good-looking?"
My phone buzzes and if it weren't for the fact that I'm meeting Miller soon, I would probably disregard it.
Still, I let out a sigh of relief when the message is from Miller and not Ricardo. I hate how he ruins even the smallest things like an alert on my cell. I'd mute his notifications if I could but he manages to contact me from unknown numbers, making it impossible to evade him.
"Find out for yourself," I say as I grab my bag from my desk. "He's outside waiting for me."
I send him a text to let him know I'm on my way out and Tara follows me like a puppy in hopes of catching a glimpse at the client who has me questioning if my outfit is acceptable or not.
Fighting my nerves, I plaster on my happy face and walk through our office, my heels clicking against the floor once we're near the main area.
I step through the automatic entrance to the building and onto the sidewalk, shooting a look over my shoulder at Tara. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She trails me through but stops outside and offers me a wave, her sights scanning the parking spots in front of the building.
Perched against a black Porsche, looking like he just walked out of a GQ magazine, is Miller, his arms crossed over his chest.
He kicks off it the second he sees me and peels his sunglasses from his face. He's wearing a fitted black button-up with the sleeves rolled just below his elbows and black pants. Miller folds his glasses and tucks them into his slightly unbuttoned shirt and approaches me.
"Hey," he says with a grin he's trying to hide on his face. "You look...stunning. Green is your color."
"Thanks." I try to hide the blush that forces its way across my cheeks. I don't dare touch my face though—I spent entirely too long color correcting the hand imprint that Ricardo left behind this morning and I refuse to mess it up now. "You're not so bad yourself."
Miller places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to his car, reaching down and opening the door for me.
"I thought you were sending a car to pick me up?" I ask him as I slide in.
"I did...I just happen to be driving it." He closes my door and walks around to get into the driver's side.
I take a glance at the building, Tara standing there with enthusiastic thumbs up. I stuff my bag around my feet and attempt not to gawk too much at the super expensive car I'm sitting in.
Miller climbs in and pauses like his mind is processing something I can't quite figure out. He leans over and I completely freeze, all of me except my pounding heart. He reaches past me, grabbing onto my seat belt and pulling it across my body, his eyes killing me with their intensity.
"Thanks," I whisper with his face so fucking close to mine.
"You smell good," he says before latching my belt and breaking away.
"So do you," I respond like an idiot.
"Thanks." He turns the car on and the engine roars to life, rumbling my entire body but in a very sophisticated way.
"Is this your car?"
