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With that depressing thought, I bypassed the vending machine with the good snacks to the vending machine with the healthy snacks, just ruining my whole snack time experience.
However, snacks were all but forgotten when I heard a voice behind me say, “And how is your day going, Ms. Tinley?”
I let out a slow, low, quiet breath before turning around to face the man that I’d been thinking about all weekend. “It’s going well,” I replied evenly.
Killian gave me a terse nod. “Do you have a moment?”
It was a stupid question for him to ask. Even if I didn’t, he was my boss. “Of course.”
Killian walked further into the breakroom, and I was surprised that he wasn’t asking to speak to me in a more private setting. Whatever this was, I was going to take talking to me in public as a good sign. Surely, he wouldn’t berate me or criticize me with an audience, right? I mean, ever since this man had made his first appearance in the news regarding his foundation, I’d never heard of anyone ever saying anything bad about him. No horrible boss stories at Birdwing.
“Did you have a good week?” he asked, and he might as well have asked me to marry him.
“What?”
“Your week,” he repeated. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Uh…it…” What in the fresh hell? “Why are you asking?” I asked, my face the perfect picture of confusion.
“I’m asking because I want to know if you used it wisely,” he answered, and I was beginning to see red again when it came to this man.
I nodded my head in realization. “You want to know if I used this past week to get my shit under control, don’t you? I mean, that’s what you’re really asking.” Though I knew very well that I shouldn’t be cursing at my boss, he was just getting under my skin in a way that wasn’t healthy for me.
His lips twitched a bit, and I forced myself to ignore the way that my body was reacting to such a simple act. “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”
I let out a deep, exhausting, infuriating breath. “Look, if this is going to be a regular thing, if…if you think that I can’t do my job effectively, then why not just fire me, Mr. Warrick?” I finally asked.
“I don’t have grounds to fire you, Ms. Tinley,” he replied coolly.
That hurt.
Still very aware that we were in the breakroom, I made sure to keep my voice down. “No one works harder than I do here, Mr. Warrick,” I spat. “I don’t know what your problem with me is, but it’s unwarranted. I’ve done nothing but give my best at this call center, and I’m getting really tired of having to defend myself to you.”
Killian straightened as he regarded me closely. “It is my job to make sure that my specialists are taking care of themselves, as well as the callers that they handle,” he said clearly and evenly. “I’m just making sure that you’re taking care of yourself. I just want to know if your needs are being met also.”
I tightened my eyes.
I couldn’t help it.
His words sounded perfectly innocent coming out of his mouth, but hitting my ears, they sounded like something else. I had a lot of needs, and there were plenty that weren’t being met, but I couldn’t say that to my boss.
When I opened my eyes again, Killian looked deeply concerned, so I knew that I had to say something or else he’d send me home early. “I spent my evenings decompressing,” I told him, and my words sounded stupid even to my ears. “I’m…good.”
The man took a small step closer, and I could swear my lungs were about to start seizing. “And what’s your definition of decompressing?”
I stared into his deep blue eyes and wondered what he looked like when he was in the middle of making love. Granted, a man like him probably didn’t make love. He looked like the kind of man that fucked the women that he was with, and that was another point against him. I couldn’t see Killian Warrick taking the time to be sweet and gentle.
“Mmm…movies, yoga, ice…ice cream…thin…things like that,” I finally stammered.
The corner of his lip lifted in a lazy grin. “Yeah? What kind of ice cream?”
Jesus flippin’ Christ, what was happening here?
“Cookies and Cream,” I answered like a dolt.
“I’m a vanilla ice cream cone person myself,” he remarked, and I almost looked around for the camera because this had to be a joke.
“Look, I don’t know what this is, but I don’t appreciate being toyed with, Mr. Warrick,” I hissed. “What do you care about what kind of ice cream I like?”
