Page 121 of Brutal Heir

Florian’s paused. “Perhaps once you are settled in.”

My throat tightened so much I wasn’t even sure if I could get my next words out. “Yes, thank you. I’ll be right down.”

As soon as I’m done yelling at your boss.

The moment the door closed behind the last staff member, I turned on Sebastian. “What the fuck?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What?”

I swung my arm out, gesturing to the meeting table. “What the hell was all that?”

He stepped forward.

I backed up.

He kept coming. “You made it very clear that we were to have a strictly professional relationship.”

I pivoted my head to check behind me as I continued to back up. I placed my hand on the edge of his desk so I wouldn’t collide with it. “Yes, exactly.”

He continued to press forward as I circled around the desk. “You said nothing about special treatment.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You know I meant that too.”

He unfolded his arms, shrugged out of his jacket, and flung it over the desktop. “Then you should have asked for that during our…heated negotiation.”

I could just make out the faint outlines of his chest tattoo through the thin white silk of his shirt. “You can’t put my office next to yours.”

He twisted both his cuff links off and tossed them aside as he continued to pursue me around the massive executive desk while he rolled up his sleeves. “I can do whatever I want. I own the company.”

I stumbled and grabbed the edge of the desk. Stupid slingbacks. “Fine. But you can’t put me on such an important campaign.”

“Do you doubt your abilities?”

My back stiffened as I stopped shifting backward. “Not at all.”

In fact, I already had a hundred ideas for how I wanted the photo shoots to go and hoped they aligned with whatever the marketing department was planning.

Sebastian leaned forward, placing his palms on the desk, on either side of my hips.

Caging me in.

His gaze moved to my mouth. “Then tell me, Signora Badalamenti, are you going to toss away this incredible opportunity and quit because you don’t like where I’m putting your desk?”

Well, dammit. Not when he put it that way.

“Not at all, Signore Diamanti.”

God, he smelled good.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Brava ragazza. Now get back to work before I decide to make you earn your paycheck in a far more creative way.”

Ducking under his arm, I practically ran to the door, and with my hand on the doorknob, I turned. “By the way…”

He turned and half sat against the desk as he crossed his arms again, showing off his muscled, bare forearms. “Yes?”

“You’re wrong. Turns out, an Italian man would chase a woman around a desk.”

He rose and leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk.