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“And yet, why do I get the impression you can’t fire me?”
I grit my teeth, my lip curling as I step closer to her, relishing the way her skin flushes deeper when I do.
“Because of your dear husband?” I snarl.
“Ding ding ding,” she smiles icily at me.
My eyes narrow. “I might not be able to fire you, Eloise…”
She gasps as I back her into the shelves behind her.
“But I can make your life hell here. For starters,” I glance down, letting my eyes drift over her. “Do you fucking call this office attire?”
She stares at me. “I’ve been down here for three hours and it’s hotter than Hell down here.” She arches her brows at me, a glint in her eyes as she sweeps them over me in return. “And you’re one to talk! Really?”
“I was exercising,” I mutter.
“Rules for thee, not for me?”
“It’s called executive privilege.” I turn away from her, casting my gaze over the random boxes she’s pulled from the shelves looking for the files she was sent here for. There’s a half-nibbled apple sitting on one of them. I frown when my gaze lands on the shelf behind it, where I spot a paper coffee cup and a bottle of vodka.
I walk over and pluck up the cup, bringing it to my nose. After sniffing it, I turn to glare at her.
“Are you fucking serious?”
She gasps as I move toward her, caging her against the shelves.
“Were you drinking, Eloise?”
Her mouth sets. “That was down here already.”
Okay, that’s clearly bullshit. But for some reason, I don’t push it. She’s obviously not drunk, and, let’s face it, if I were married to Massimo fucking Carveli, I’d probably need some medicine to get through the day, too.
Not to mention, if I were my boss.
So I let it go. For now.
Eloise clears her throat. “Why were you…”
“Hitting things?”
She nods.
“Anger issues.”
“Okay, aside from the obvious.”
I glare at her, trying not to notice the teasing little smirk on her far-too-tempting lips.
“Reasons,” I mutter.
“So fights still have a way of finding you, huh?” She half-smiles, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. For a second, something flickers in my chest.
Then I stamp it out. Hard.
“Don’t.”
Eloise swallows. “What?”
