“That would be great, Julian,” she says through gritted teeth. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” Julian says, looking between us uncertainly. “I’ll just…Yeah.”
He hurries through the side entrance.
The moment he’s gone, Violet yanks her wrist again. Harder this time.
I still don’t let go. I stand there with her arm held in midair between us, the cigarette still clamped between my teeth. She crinkles her nose, her face twisting in disgust.
The cigarette. She doesn’t like the smell.
Without a second thought, I pull it from my mouth and drop it to the ground, crushing it beside the rest of them.
I release her wrist. “Why have you been letting the others in the office treat you like a lackey?” I ask harshly.
Her eyes flash. “That’s none of your business.”
She walks past me, heading for the door. I follow her, keeping pace easily with my longer stride. There’s an isolated corridor just inside this entrance. Usually empty. Private.
Once there, I step in front of her, cutting off her path.She tries to move around me, but I block her again, backing her up until her spine hits the wall.
“You’re here to work,” I say, planting my hands on either side of her head. Caging her in. “Not to be a maidservant for people who think they can push you around.”
“Get out of my way.” She lifts her chin, but I catch the slight tremor in her voice that betrays her.
I lean closer, and her true scent envelops me. That artificial perfume can’t mask it anymore. Not when we’re this close. I can hear her heart beating, see the pulse hammering in her throat, feel the heat radiating from her skin even though I’m not even touching her yet.
And underneath her scent, there’s something else. Something that makes satisfaction bloom in my chest.
Desire.
She wants this. Wants me. Even if she won’t admit it.
I brace myself, forcing my body to stay still even though all I want to do is take her, right here and right now.
“You had no problem standing up to the cook,” I say, my voice lower. Rougher. “But when it comes to your colleagues, you act like a meek, little mouse.”
Her pulse is racing. I can smell the adrenaline mixing with that faint trace of arousal.
“Why is that?” I bring my face closer to her neck, where her scent is strongest. Where I can breathe her in without that goddamn perfume getting in the way. “Is it because the chef is in a weaker position than you? Easy target?”
These words are designed to get a rise out of her. To break through that icy control. And I sense her anger a split second before she moves.
She’s fast. Faster than I expected.
Her knee comes up hard, aiming for my groin. I twist just in time, catching it on my thigh instead. The impact still sends a jolt of pain through my leg, but I ignore it.
Her hands shove my chest, and I let her push me back a step. Which gives her just enough room.
She’s clever rather than strong, using momentum and precision instead of brute force. She aims for a pressure point just below my ribs, fingers jabbing hard.
If she were dealing with anyone else, it would work. But I’m not anyone else.
I catch her wrist, twist it, and spin her around before she can react. Her front slams against the wall, and I pin both her hands above her head with one of mine.
She’s breathing hard now, her chest heaving with exertion. And I’m rock hard in my pants.
Fuck.
