He didn’t smirk. He didn’t smile.
Just a promise.
“Always,” he murmured.
“I guess Carla can live with her current face then,” I said, dusting his jacket down before returning my attention to my screen.
Something settled between us.
I could breathe easier.
Yes, he looked good and smelled even better, but Bad Girl was right.
If instinct took us down.
It would be by our choice.
??????
We watched him do his obligatory tour of the floor.
No one on my team said a word. Francis was dying to find out more—I could feel it radiating off her—but she held it together, which under the circumstances was an act of genuine self-restraint.
My phone buzzed against the desk.
Conrí:Dinner?
My eyes flicked up.
He was supposed to be listening to whatever Catherine was telling him. Instead he was looking at his phone. A beat passed. He tapped again.
Conrí:Or I could come down for another visit tomorrow.
Is he trying to blackmail us?Bad Girl asked.Diabolical. A pause.We could learn from him.
Me:My place at 7pm.
He glanced across the floor.
Not victory. Contentment. The quiet, settled kind that had nothing to prove.
He was about to risk me cooking for him. Knowing what he knew about us. That was either bravery or very poor judgement and I hadn’t decided which yet.
Bad Girl chortled.
My smile faded when I remembered the last time someone had come to my door uninvited.
I’ve got you, Bad Girl murmured.
I’m here for Ms Horvat. Ms Horvat alone.
His words settled back into my mind, warm and certain. This could easily be construed as inappropriate—a CEO singling out a junior member of staff in front of the entire floor. But I’d watched him carefully during the tour. The way he avoided contact with bare skin. The measured, professional distance he kept with everyone else. Cool and consistent and entirely deliberate.
Which made the heat between us, when it came, entirely our own.
It only made it worse.
??????
