I’m getting whiplash.Or is this payback because when he kissed me, it was me who left? Same in the sauna. Great maturity on his part.
“I do,” I lie. “A friend’s brother is in town for work. We’re meeting up for drinks.”
He didn’t seem to be expecting that, and his body tenses and his jaw strains.
This is my upper card. I walk past him and pat his chest. “Where’s that file?” I turn on my saccharine-toned voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to meet my deadlines. Not like drinks with a friend’s older brother is going to get crazy.” I sashay further on.
“Have fun. Don’t forget the file is on your way out.”
My eyes grow with annoyance, and I choose not to respond to him. Still, it’s hard to ignore the sense of his eyes targeting my back.
Continuing, I follow my quest to get the hell out of here. I slide the folder off the side table, and my heels click against the floor as I walk toward the door.
“Oh, Savannah,” he says, grabbing my attention, causing me to turn and look at him once more. “Thanks for stopping by. Huh…” He pretends to rub his head for a thought. “Did I mention that they actually only needed a digital signature?”
My face falls because the asshole set all this up.Disrupting my evening on a false ruse. My jaw grits with fury, even though logic begins to point out the obvious.
The man wants to have the last winning move of the night. That’s frustrating and embroiling.However, he alsomade this move with only one possible outcome in mind. I would show up, and apparently, he wanted my presence.
I could throw his expensive piece-of-art bowl on the side table at him, or I can give him a smile, sweet as can be.
Choosing the latter, I play defiance. “That’s okay, a simple thing to forget,” I lie.
Turning, I swing the door open with gusto and roll my eyes with complete distaste written on my face.
Why do I do this to myself?
I should quit and get myself out of this web of confusion.
But I refuse to let him win.
10
SAVANNAH
I’m lucky to have Elodie as a good friend. Not many people would be willing to tag along on their friend’s ridiculous tasks that her boss sets for her. Yet here I am standing in line at the dry cleaner's with Elodie by my side.
“Remind me again why we’re here?”she asks as I stand on the balls of my feet to see what is taking the customer in front of me so long.
“Because Julian decided to go back to making my life hell during the lunchtime rush. Apparently, heneedsthis suit today despite having a whole closetful of options.” I didn’t see him yesterday, as he was away from the office, and this morning’s greeting was throwing a receipt on my desk.
She nudges my arm with hers and has the audacity to give a knowing smirk. “But he kissed you.”She sing-songs the reminder.
Not that I need one. The memory is part of the broader slew of issues. I can add the other night’s visit to the list, too.He makes my heart race, but I don’t want to be that woman who succumbs to his broody charms at the sign of interest. I held strong, but I didn’t sleep a wink.
“Well, he can take that victory, but the other night I walked away because he doesn’t get to snap his fingers to have the world go the way he wants.”We step up when the customer in front of us leaves, and my hand darts out with a receipt to the man behind the counter.
He has a quick read of the numbers on the paper. “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
“Yet, he has the power to send you on his ridiculous errands, probably because you denied him the Savannah goods.”Elodie laughs.
I cringe at her sentence. “Can we not say goods? It sounds like my body is a bakery.” She shrugs. “And secondly, being here shows the lengths of his pettiness, all because his feelings got hurt.” I’m a little fired up on this. Not only his warped brain, but also, I was working on a project that held my interest, and I felt I could have added more input had I been given another hour or two. Instead, I sent it to Julian with what a normal assistant would provide because I’ve been dispatched to do his errands.
“Let it go. Maybe he really does need the suit. He’s always at some event outside of work.” My eyes grow wide at her, and she bubbles a laugh. “What? One of the cat ladies on my floor always gives us the latest gossip on him. Cute, kind of. I always took her for a knitting-and-painting-by-numbers kind of lady. Anyhow, at company events, he sticks around with the board, and I guess you need to dress well for that.”
“Who cares? I’m starving on my lunchbreak and here to pick up my boss's dry cleaning.”
“I think you do care and love playing the part of a disgruntled employee,” she accuses me.
