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“I guess not everything always appears as it is.” Leaving him gawking in my wake, I storm out of the room.
With no clue as to where I’m going, I head for the front desk. I’m about to leave when I see him enter the office at the very end of the hall. There’s no second thought or pause when I stalk past his assistant into the office.
Holy shit.
There’s another assistant and solid walls and heavy wood doors. No glass and transparency. And I know without a doubt that I’ve entered the Devil’s lair. I feel it in my bones and my pulsing flesh.
“How can I help you?” The middle-aged man stands from behind his desk. “If you have any issues, I would be happy to point you to the right person or—”
“Come in, Miss Monroe,” the Devil speaks from the intercom on the desk.
Standing in debate of which door to go into, I’m trembling. My nerves fray a little more, and following the direction his assistant points me in, I spit out my thanks.
“How can I help you, Lacie?” he has the audacity to chuckle as he pours himself a drink.
It’s all the confirmation I needed to know he’s playing some kind of game. Why else would he pretend he didn’t know me?
“Cut the shit, Henry!”
My thoughts are screaming, my brain racing a hundred miles a second making it impossible for me to voice any of the things running through my mind. The longer I stand here, the more my tongue swells and curls in my mouth, threatening to choke me.
“My contract has a three-month trial clause. I’m taking it.”
Ire stains his laugh as he sits on the edge of his desk, sipping his drink while assessing me from head to toe.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Take a moment, think it through…”
“There’s nothing to think about. You knew who I was last night.”
“If I remember correctly, you chose to withhold your identity first.” With a sigh, he stands and rounds his desk, pulling his chair out. “Come.”
There’s no way I’m getting any closer to him. I might hate him, but my stomach is still flipping and twisting like it did last night. Even if I want to tear him to shreds, my body is throbbing for him.
“I’d like to show you something that might change your mind.” He waits beside his chair, his charcoal suit tailored to his impeccable body with the cuffs of his white shirt peeking slightly. He truly is a sinful sight, just like he fucks.
“Come, Ava,” he orders in his deep gravel. “Sit. I’d hate for you to make the wrong decision.”
Approaching with caution, I do all I can to avoid contact, but he doesn’t need to lay a single finger on me for me to feel him as though he is draped all over me and my senses. A cloud of doom and lust, and—God, my entire being is buzzing to be consumed by it. By him.
The moment I take a seat, Damon sits on his desk. His pants strain around his thick thighs as he watches me like he’s appreciating a fine vista. For a second I’m lost to him. A shallow insignificant flash because when he taps a key on his keyboard, my attention goes to the flicker on the screen.
The world tilts as my blood congeals in my veins. Then for the second time today, it free-falls from beneath me.
The black-and-white footage isn’t all that clear, but it’s enough that I can see the scene we made together. My face is recognizable, and the rake of his stubble on my neck that I’ve been fantasizing over is but a ploy to keep his identity hidden.
I’m sick to my stomach. Ice pounds in my veins, and the whooshing in my ears drums daggers into my head.
“You son of a—”
“Be very careful, Miss Monroe,” Damon cuts me off.
Looking up at the smug bastard, all the things that made him irresistible make him just as repugnant to me.
“What do you want?”
