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“Come up to my office.”
Looking down through my window, I smirk when she startles, whipping around to look up at me, like she’s only just realized we’re the only two here.
I relish the blush on her face when she figures that out.
“For what?” she asks, tucking a strand of blonde behind her ear.
“For because-I-said-so,” I growl.
I swear to fuck, I can see her roll her goddamn eyes from all the way up here.
“I’m sort of busy right now,” she says, just tersely enough to make the point that she’s aware that she’s talking to the guy responsible for said work.
“Working hours are over. You’re done.”
“I’m salaried, not hourly. What do you care how late I work?”
“Electricity isn’t free, Eloise.”
She snorts through the phone. “So my single lightbulb, an LED one by the way, is going to bankrupt the firm by being on for another few hours a night?”
“Has it ever occurred to you that the reason you haven’t worked in almost two years is less about your dipshit of a husband and more about your inability to just nod and say yes when your boss asks you to do something?”
The phone is silent. Then I hear the click as she puts the phone back on the cradle before standing. I smirk as she smooths down her skirt suit and then makes her way up to the executive level.
I’m at the bar cart at the far side of my office when she steps in.
“You’re in a mood.”
I shrug, my back to her. “It’s not a mood if that’s my default setting.”
“I’m glad you can admit your flaws, Alistair.” She grins as I turn to glare at her.
“Drink?”
She nods. “Whatever you’re having. Thanks.”
I pour her a whiskey, neat, as she walks over. Turning, I hand it to her and then clink my glass to hers.
“Cheers.”
Eloise smiles as she lifts her glass. “Thanks, boss.”
“I think I clearly requested sir, not boss.”
I relish the heat that blooms in her face. “I’ll have to remember that,” she says through the redness in her cheeks. “Sir.”
I’m about to quip back when she suddenly knocks back the drink in one gulp.
“Jesus Christ, I asked if you wanted a drink, not shots on Spring Break in Cozumel.”
Eloise blushes, then reaches past me to grab the bottle and pour herself another.
“You didn’t used to drink like this,” I growl quietly.
“I also didn’t used to be married to a psychopath,” she murmurs, taking a deep sip.
My jaw clenches. Something simmers hotly in my veins. “Would you like to explain to me how the fuck that happened? Marrying him, I mean.”
