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Mac comes in beside us, giving Lainey stunned eyes. I know what’s going through his mind. He’s thinking she is one brave girl for talking to me like that, no matter whose fault it is. Lainey captures the look on Mac’s face too, and she must also fathom his thought process because she immediately apologizes to me. “God, I’m so sorry. I just wasn’t expecting to have a hot cup of coffee thrown at me.”
My back straightens, and I take the opportunity being presented to me, knowing news of this little incident will spread through the office like wildfire. “Fair enough, Miss Summer, you’re shocked, but it was an accident. So think twice next time before you hurl a load of profanities at me.” I pass her shocked face and leave. “And it’s Mr. Christianson to you,” I call back shortly, smiling to myself.
I land at my desk, minus one coffee, literally hearing the office jungle drums starting to bang. Mac will be relaying it word for word to his department. I give it fifteen minutes before the whole office knows. I grin at my brilliance. Yes, I’m fucking brilliant. And my grin only widens when Lainey’s name pops up in the bottom right-hand corner of my screen. “Let’s see what she has to say,” I muse, clicking it open.* * *Re: You’re an arseholeThis time I thought of a “re.”Lainey Summer
PA to Sal Walker
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *I chuckle. Oh, she’s mad.* * *Re: Cool down.I didn’t like your “re.”
So I changed it.Tyler Christianson
Chief Executive Officer
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *Re: You’re an arseholeWell I love it. So it stays.Lainey Summer
PA to Sal Walker
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *Re: You’re an arseholeWhatever makes you happy, beautiful. Is today dragging for you, too?Tyler Christianson
Chief Executive Officer
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *Re: You’re an arseholeYes. Want to do something Tuesday night?Lainey Summer
PA to Sal Walker
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *“Tuesday?” I blurt at my screen. It’s Friday. Like in four days? Like after this weekend? I’ll have keeled over by then. Is she mad? My fingers hit the keys hard as I type out my reply.* * *Re: You’re an arseholeHow about this weekend?Tyler Christianson
Chief Executive Officer
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *Too keen? I don’t care. I hit send and wait for her reply. And I hate what I read.* * *Re: You’re an arseholeSorry, busy.Lainey Summer
PA to Sal Walker
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *Positively hate it. For one, it’s far too quick a reply, which means she didn’t think twice about revising her plans, and two, because she actually has plans. And they don’t include me. Just like that, she’s busy. The disgusted look on my face isn’t containable.* * *Re: You’re an arseholeYes. With me.Tyler Christianson
Chief Executive Officer
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *I go for boldness, rather than beating around the bush. There’s not a cat in hell’s chance I’m waiting until next week. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Miss Summer. I nod to myself, satisfied, and wait for her email of surrender. But it doesn’t come. In fact, no email comes. Not five minutes later, not ten minutes later, and not fifteen minutes later, by which point I’m circling my office trying to decide what to do. Ping. I rush clumsily to my desk, tripping over my feet on the way, and land in my chair in a heap.* * *Re: You’re an arseholeAfraid not.Lainey Summer
PA to Sal Walker
Christianson Walker Ltd.* * *My teeth grate, and I look down at my watch. Gina’s still at lunch. I zip out of my office, down the corridor, and around the corner to Sal’s end of the floor. Lainey’s at her desk, sitting back in her chair staring at her screen and nibbling her lip. She looks up as I pass her desk, going to Sal’s open door and peeking in his office. “Where is he?” I ask, looking to Lainey.
“In the conference room with Violet.”
“Good.” I march over and plant my palms on her desk, leaning in threateningly. She tips back in her chair, wary. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear,” I say, unable to cut the annoyance in my tone. “This weekend you have plans with me.” I can hear myself. I sound like a total arsehole, insane, yet the thought of having to go so long without my fix of Lainey is steering me that way.
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” Lainey retorts, resting her forearms on the desk and getting her face close to mine. “I’m busy.”
“Doing what?”
“That’s none of your business.”
She’s right, of course, but that doesn’t stop me from continuing with my arsehole-like approach to her rejection. She hasn’t technically rejected me, but it still feels like a slap in the face. Isn’t she as desperate as me to have a repeat of last night and this morning? “I’m making it my business.”
