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I rise to my tiptoes so I can speak into his ear. It's the only way to communicate besides screaming. "What are you doing here?"
"This isn't a private club."
"Not your scene either." I step back. "Unless you're here to find a woman to take back to your place."
His eyes bore into me. He points to the red couch in the corner.
I step to the side. "We don't have anything to talk about. You have your company, and I have nothing. You don't have to rub it in."
"This is important."
His grip tightens around my shoulder, more protective than forceful. Heat rushes through my body. It's like I'm on fire. That demanding look in his eyes is enough to undo me, but his hands on my skin?
My breath catches in my throat. I take another step sideways. Nick wants to talk. I want that job. This opportunity is more important than my pride.
That doesn't make it easier to look at him without melting.
"Fine." I follow him to the couch in the corner. It's still loud, but not loud enough to overpower a conversation.
Nick sits next to me. His knee connects with mine. He turns his body towards mine, planting his hand just outside my thigh.
His thumb brushes against the hem of my dress. He moves his hand an inch, like it really was an accident. "I can't have this information get out."
"Which part—that you fucked me or that you chose not to hire me because of it?" So much for swallowing my pride. I really need a better handle on my temper.
"My personal life needs to stay private."
"Next time try using the telephone instead of stalking a girl to a club. How did you even know I was here?"
"Your friend tagged you on Instagram."
"You looked for me on social media?"
I go to push myself off the couch but Nick grabs my wrist.
"I called the number from your résumé three times."
I dig into my purse and find my phone to see if he's telling the truth. He is. One call while I was getting ready, another around the time I got off the subway. Which means call three happened sometime while I was underground.
One point in the Nick-isn't-an-asshole tally.
"I did a background check," he says.
"Why?"
"Standard procedure for all potential Odyssey employees." He stares into my eyes. "You're only nineteen. You have a fake ID."
"I plead the fifth." I hold up the back of my hand to show off my nifty X. "This is an all-ages club."
"You're eight years younger than I am."
"Yeah, well it's not like we're going to get married." I throw my brown hair back. I have a goal here, and it's not to insult Nick as much as possible within a fifteen-minute span. It's to get a job at his company. I clear my throat and offer a polite smile. "If you don't trust me, I understand, but I'm not going to tell anyone about the night we spent together."
"Your sister?"
"Do you have a problem with Blake Sterling or just with me knowing him?"
"Both."
"Blake is the one who told me about your company. He's not interested in stealing your trade secrets."
"How can you be sure?" His eyes bore into me.
"You think I would do that to you?"
"I don't think with my cock."
My chest pangs. That's all I am to him—some girl he fucked. I clear my throat, holding strong. "He wouldn't send me as a spy." I press my palms into my thighs. "He knows I don't trust him."
"You're staying in his apartment."
"How the fuck do you know that?"
"You listed it as your address in your application."
"Oh." My back softens. "I'm staying for winter break. Our old place is sublet, and I don't exactly have the spare cash for a hotel. If I don't get this internship, it's back to California, to the Stanford dorms."
Nick's shoulders relax. "You'll need to sign a non-disclosure agreement."
"Of course." It's standard procedure at every tech company.
"It will include our personal relationship."
That's not as standard. I take a sharp breath. "What personal relationship is that?"
"I'm not going to fuck an intern."
Great, I'm an intern. In his head, I don't even have a name.
Wait.
I'm an intern.
I have to sign an NDA.
He's offering me the job.
Well, I guess it’s technically an internship. Since it’s for school credit.
I tug at the hem of my dress, accidentally revealing my purple tights all the way to mid-thigh. Okay, maybe it's more my subconscious taking over. "Are we... friends?"
"We're colleagues. I'm expecting you to keep this professional. As far as I'm concerned, we met today. Do you understand me?"
I nod. I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but I know enough about working to hold my tongue.
His expression softens. "I want you, Lizzy. You're the best candidate. And the only one who isn't as dull as a doorknob."
The way he says it, I want you, Lizzy—it does things to me. Makes it difficult to breathe.
As if on cue, Sarah approaches us. She hands me a half drunk rum and diet and shakes Nick's hand.
"I'm Sarah."
"Lizzy's new boss." He turns to me. "I'll send an offer in the morning. You start immediately."
"I haven't agreed to take the position."
"You will."
His hand brushes against my thigh as he shifts off the couch. It sends a wave of heat through my body.
The way he's looking at me, the stern tone of his voice—I want to close my eyes and drink it in.
I want to throw myself on this couch and spread my legs as wide as they'll go.
Fortunately, my libido isn't quite as unchecked as my temper. I smooth my dress and take a small sip of my beverage.
Nick's eyes go to my drink. "You're nineteen."
"And it's a Diet Coke."
"Diet Coke is almost black. There's rum in that drink."
Sarah looks at me, her eyes wide with wonder. She mouths holy shit.
Okay, so Nick has the observational powers of a god. That will make it more difficult to keep my list under wraps.
He slides his hand into his pocket. "I am not understanding about employee indiscretions."
I slurp the last drop of my rum and diet. "Still didn't take the job yet."
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My snappy comeback does nothing to soothe me. He's still so cool and collected. That night must not have meant anything to him.
I make a point of bending over to set my drink on the floor. My dress shifts down, revealing the top of my lacy black bra. The one he gave me.
He licks his lips. His pupils dilate. He doesn't hide that he's staring.
Doesn't hide that he wants me.
My cheeks flush. I should feel victorious—Nick wants me—but I feel deprived. Empty.
I can't have him.
I want him. He wants me. But we have to stay professional.
Sometimes, I loathe adulthood.
Nick nods goodbye to Sarah. "Nice to meet you." His gaze catches mine. "Take the morning to finish arranging everything. Ms. Lee will expect you in the office by 1:00."
"Okay."
"Goodnight, Lizzy."
He leans in, close enough that I can smell his cologne, and kisses me on the cheek.
My lungs empty. He was close enough to kiss me. He did kiss me. On the cheek, yeah, but his lips were on my skin.
And now he's walking away.
"Goodnight." I press my hands against my tights.
Sarah fans herself. "Holy fuck, Lizzy. That's your boss? He sure puts Robin to shame."
I turn back to the dance floor, but it's like all the energy is being sucked out a black hole. I don't want to dance with any of these guys. Not when I can still smell Nick's cologne.
My eyes flutter closed. I can almost taste his lips. I can almost feel his hands on my skin, his body pressed against mine, his cock—
"Snap out of it. Go after him or forget about him. You're not moping on my watch." She leans in to whisper. "He was looking at you with fuck-me eyes." You should go after him.
"He's my boss and this opportunity is important to me."
Sarah pouts. "Then let's find someone who will get your mind off him."
I nod, determined to prove I can want someone more than I want Nick. Anything is possible. "And if you see Kat—"
"My lips are sealed, sweet thang."
I try half a dozen dance partners. All of them pale in comparison to Nick.
My body remains flushed and wanting. All the dancing in the world will do nothing to release the tension between my legs.
I sit on the couch with a drink while I wait to approve Sarah's fuck of the night as safe enough to leave with.
