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Grabbing my jacket and my purse, I follow suit, hoping that Damon will somehow be happy with the fact Robert wants to come to the office.
Boy, is my hope a letdown.
I feel him stalk me to his building, following me past the security barriers to the elevator. Much like on my first day, everyone makes way for him, and when the doors ding open and he walks in, no one makes a move to follow him.
“Miss Monroe.” My name on his lips is sinful even with the angered edge. In fact, the sharpness to it has a bite that licks brazenly at my insides.
The eyes of the world feel trained on me as I remain rooted to the concrete floor. Neither one of us makes a move in our battle of wills. The other elevator announces its arrival, and like they don’t want to be present for what’s about to happen, everyone around me squeezes into the box like they’re sardines.
“Do not make me come get you.”
“Or what?”
“It’s quite simple, Ava,” he bites out as he lunges toward me and drags me with him. His grasp of my arm is hard, and although I try to shake him off, the heat of his touch is like a sedative. “You don’t fuck with me.”
A low, maniacal laugh escapes me.
His pissed-off stare narrows on mine. “You will not help the competition on my time.”
“I was on my lunch break.”
“Until you are no longer employed by me. Until I let you go…” Damon comes closer, and although I step back, there’s nowhere for me to go. I’m boxed in and surrounded by him and his scent. “You will be on my time.”
The doors open with a high-pitched ring that reverberates through me. He’s so close that his hot breath soaks into my hair and the angry thrum of his pulse is visible on his neck.
Without warning he breaks away from me, walking past the wide-eyed floor receptionist to the door that leads to the executive offices.
“Come,” he orders, looking back at me. When I don’t follow, he adds, “Now.”
Saving myself a scene, I follow his command until we’re closed off in his office.
I didn’t pay much mind to it when I was here last. A wall of artfully stacked bookshelves with works from this house runs along one side, while the other two floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlook Bryant Park and Little Brazil. The dark wood desk almost feels too traditional for the space, but the brushed steel legs give just enough quirk that it fits perfectly.
“You’re going to call Robert Rhodes back, and you are going to make sure he is here tomorrow.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can,” he states, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it onto the coffee table. “And before you lie to me, note that I am fully aware of the contract you had.”
“What?”
A devious grin cuts his face. While I search it for any hint of the man who seduced me at the bar, Damon brings himself flush to me. His hand hooks into the pocket of my jacket.
“They didn’t deserve you.” His murmur is so low that it’s almost inaudible, but the hardness in his eyes softens to a silken chocolate. Bittersweet and intense. Overwhelming.
Our breaths break the silence, permeating the air until the electricity between us zaps and zings. Focus unwavering, Damon grasps my hand, bringing it up between us. He holds it open in his palm as he places my phone in it and says, “Robert’s right—you shouldn’t let them rob you of your merit.”
Tears fill my eyes with guilt and great sadness of what I’m about to do. The betrayal I’m about to commit against my own future.
“Call him,” Damon whispers softly, his dark hair falling into his rounded eyes.
Twisting away from him, I do as he instructs. Robert picks up almost immediately, and it takes seconds to arrange for him to come see me. And even when he ends the call, I keep the phone glued to my ear, buying myself a waif of time to pull myself together.
“You’re doing the right thing.” Damon’s softened gravel coats the shell of my ear.
His hands surround my waist as his front molds to my back. Like when we danced, my head lolls onto his shoulder. Damon is so tall, but with heels, my lips manage to rake along the underside of his jaw. It’s déjà vu, or as good as.
“For you and your company.”
