Page 9 of Shark’s Pride

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Abbi scurried from my grip, smoothing her apron and rushing to the far side of the penthouse. She stopped and flattened herself in front of the refrigerator.

“Terryn.” My voice was beyond lethal, evidenced by the steadiness in my tone. “If you ever, and I do mean ev-er, walk in that door”—I stabbed my index finger in the direction of said door—“without clear verbal permission to do so, your employment here will be terminated on the spot.”

I finally paused, waiting to see or hear some sort of acknowledgment of what I had said. Terryn darted her eyes from my crotch to my face, swooping down for another visual loop, before she nodded. Honestly, if I weren’t so fucking pissed off, her gawk would’ve been funny.

When she didn’t respond, I finally seethed through clenched teeth, “Have I made myself completely clear?”

She visibly jumped. In my peripheral, I saw Abbigail jerk too.

“Y-Y-Yes, Mr. Shark. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize she was still here.”

“She?” I tilted my head to the side, trying the word on for size. Not a great fit. At all. “She?” And that made it official. The woman was really determined to piss me off with her antics. “She has a name, and you damn well know what it is.”

“Y-Y-Yes, sir.”

“Then show some respect—and you can start with an apology to her!”

“Bas…” After grabbing a pair of bottled waters from the fridge, Abbigail had been making her way back over to the discipline zone in front of the couches. She pushed the water into my hand while muttering, “Don’t make this more uncomfortable than—”

“No.” The cutoff came from a surprisingly resolved Terryn, who stepped forward like a castigated colt ready to make amends and accept its bridle. “He’s…he’s right, Ms. Gibson,” she mumbled. “And I’m very sorry I interrupted you and Mr. Shark. It was inconsiderate of me.” The girl focused on Abbi’s kneecaps the entire time she groveled. She seemed stunned when Abbi stretched her hand forward, palm up and fingers open.

“Hey, no worries, okay?” My girl extended a verbal olive branch along with her gesture, which might as well have been a shovel into my chest. She kept finding new ways to utterly astound my cynical soul.

And Terryn was unearthing new ways to make sure I lost none of that pessimism.

My rude—make that very rude—assistant repaid Abbi’s kindness by just looking long and hard at the offered hand. The second I was tempted to bark at her, she turned on her heel and hurried out of the office. Abbigail was left standing with her hand outstretched and a bemused quirk on her kiss-stung lips.

“I…uhhh…think I’d better go too. Your lunch is all set up, and I’m sure you have a ton of work to catch up on.”

She hurriedly set the bottle of water on the table by my lunch and then beelined toward the door. Well, tried to. I was quicker though, so I blocked her path by coming around the other side of the sofa and stepping in front of the large portal.

Abbi thrust out a hip in frustration. “I think I’ve done enough damage here for one day, don’t you?”

I stretched a hand out, reaching for her hip that she had conveniently accentuated for me.

“Seriously.” She tried batting my hands away, but I didn’t budge. “You can stop all the chivalry now, Bas.”

“Oh, dear girl. I am feeling anything but chivalrous.”

“Is that so?” She canted a brow.

“When can I see you?” I demanded in a growl. “For a longer period than…” I waved my hand randomly around the room. “This.”

“Really, Bas, you can stop all of this.” She mimicked my gesture, and I scowled.

“What are you talking about?” I was fast on the way to genuine frustration.

“The doting boyfriend bit you’re playing at. It’s unnecessary. And I certainly don’t expect it.”

“Doting?” I all but laughed the word but quickly firmed my tone. “What did I miss? I’ve been gone for ten days and missed you. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself before I left, and that problem seems to have grown exponentially while I was gone.” I tried to drive in the truth of all that by pulling her against me again, but she resisted.

Again.

“Look, my ego can only take so many rejections in one afternoon, Abbigail.” When she went for a wide-eyed gape, I dipped my head in and persisted. “What the hell’s really going on here?”

She opened her mouth, but only a rough huff emerged. After resetting her lips to a tighter line, she finally said, “I’m not an obligation, Sebastian. Certainly not yours.”

Though she added the last beneath her breath, every cell in my body protested its implication. She’d be mine in whatever way I declared it, damn it!