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“How’s the Dover campaign shaping up?” I prod, refusing to give up.
Wyn regards me with dark eyes, no doubt trying to figure out what I’m looking for—which is nothing more than the private delight of hearing her voice.
“It’s coming together well.”
Her melodic voice reveals none of the irritation simmering beneath the surface that my Boggart senses easily pick up on.
“Is it now?” I raise a brow, wanting her to continue—she doesn’t. “Last I checked, we were still behind on client feedback loops, or was it sorted out over the weekend?”
My question is genuine. It wouldn’t be the first time that Wyn’s saved our asses and worked miracles for this company.
Across the table, the barest tinge of color blooms on Wyn’s cheeks confirms my thought.
“We’ve addressed the delays, Mr. Ettin.”
A tingle runs down my spine at the formal way she says my name. Even though I ask her weekly to call me Bash, I get some sort of sick pleasure at her refusing me, as well.
“Excellent. I would like to talk more about it after the meeting.”
“As you wish.”
At the tight set of her jaw and icy tone, I frown. A storm brews in her gorgeous brown gaze—a tempest that I have no hope of quelling.
It seems that no matter my intentions, I always manage to rub Wyn the wrong way, and I hate myself for not knowing how to fix it.
My compliments emerge as critiques, and my attempts to draw her out transform into accusations that have her hackles rising.
Every word I offer her way is like a live grenade, and I never know which one’s going to blow up in my face.
Wyn’s this incredible combination of fire and ice that I can’t help being attracted to, and all I want is for her to be happy with her job…and with me.
After the meeting starts and our talks wind down, I go through the remaining agenda items before I finally call an end to it.
Everyone slowly filters out, except for Wyn, who remains seated half a world away from me. There’s a crease between her brows that I have the overwhelming urge to reach across and smooth away with my thumb.
What I wouldn’t give to be the reason that she smiles for once.
“Any issues over the weekend? And you know to give accounting any extra hours you worked, right?”
“No issues, and I did turn in my overtime, thank you.”
“Good, it looks like those new marketing methods you pioneered are working well. How are they impacting our numbers?”
I lean forward, encouraging Wyn to meet my gaze. In return, she traps me with a scalding look that could strip varnish.
“As I said last Monday, my marketing skills are on point. In fact, efficiency is up seventeen percent, and we’re projected to go beyond our target earnings for next quarter.”
“Seventeen percent? That’s impressive.”
“And yet you still doubt me.”
Wyn spins, leaving me more confused than ever after our encounters. Underneath all her anger and defiance, I sense the undertow of self-doubt that Wyn tries to hide from the world.
Just that flicker of suppressed hurt is like a punch to the stomach. I never meant for any of our interactions to make Wyn question herself.
Or to make her think that I distrust how she works.
Massaging at the dull ache above my eye, I return to my office a floor above Wyn’s and drop heavily into my chair.
