"What do you mean?"
Something occurs to me at the irritation in his tone. Like I'm not doing my job and I'm avoiding alerting him to things.
I'm not.
This is a different report, and I also saw it right before he came up. In fact, I was checking it when he appeared.
I'm irked that his tone clearly states he hasn't looked at the other one he demanded yesterday.
But hey, that is my fault.
Thank fuck, it is Friday.
"I mean, I have seen this kind of discrepancy before. A?—"
"And what?" He takes the back of my chair and spins it so now he is leaning in, close, face right near mine, like we are about to kiss.
Which we are not.
And I wouldn't want to, anyway.
"You didn't think to tell me?" he asks.
I glare at him.
"It was in the report you apparently didn't read. I left a note—a Post-it right there, at the issue. On the file that I took the time to print up and leave on your desk."
"I don't always read the hard copy."
I offer him the tightest, most sarcastic smile I have. "And I highlighted it and left a comment in the document I emailed to you—of the same file." I pause. "You weren't interested in reading that either, clearly."
His dark brown eyes glitter, and I can see the tiny spot where he cut himself shaving, right on the edge of his jaw.
It makes my stomach flip-flop to think he is one of those guys who uses a razor to shave. I bet he has the whole expensive kit: the brush, the foaming soap, the strop to sharpen the blade on.
I almost groan, the idea is so sexy I don't know what to do with it.
Especially when it is about Enzo, a man I despise.
"Do you like playing with fire, Lola?" His voice is low, and it makes my insides twitch.
I veer around that question. "Can you back up and give me space?"
"You had the info on your screen all minuscule. Did you steal your eyes from an eagle?"
"No." I stare up at him, contemplating kneeing him in the balls, but that would definitely end in my firing and possibly a lawsuit. He is probably that kind of man. "But I got my claws from a tiger."
"House cat."
"Their claws still hurt."
His mouth twitches. "And your tongue?"
"Never you mind."
"And here I thought you might say a harridan."
"Is yours from a sexual predator?" I ask sweetly.
