“Because it’s mine.”
I’m going to rip out my hair. “You don’t appreciate it, so you don’t get to keep it.”
Rexton holds eye contact as he opens his top desk drawer and drops the card inside. I debate lunging for him as he pushes the drawer shut. He’s wearing a snarky little smile, like he’s so fucking proud of himself, and I hate it.
I grind my teeth. “Enjoy your succubus.”
I need to leave this room before I do or say something I regret. I’ve done my part and apologized, and if Rexton doesn’t want to accept my thoughtful gifts, then that’s on him.
He says nothing as I storm out of his office. Several people shoot me pointed glares, and it’s hard to ignore them.
Rexton wasn’t wrong when he said I’m insecure, jealous, and angry. All three are accurate, which is probably why it hurt so much when he said it. I try hard to hide those traits of myself, and it’s humbling to learn I’m not doing as good of a job as I thought.
Is it truly as transparent as Rexton claims it to be?
I don’t think so. I can’t let myself believe so. That would crush me, and my sanity is barely held together by a thin, thin thread. One slight tug and it’ll come unraveling, and only the fates know what a mess that’ll be.
Jassy isn’t at her desk, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s interviewing elsewhere as I retreat into my office. I wouldn’t entirely blame her. She likes Rexton, even if she turned down his offer to date. She respects him, probably more than she does me.
I peer out my office window, staring into the landscaped field below me. A shadow is maintaining the lawn, its tall, lanky frame hunched forward as it messes with one of the flower beds. Is this what Rexton did before my fathers purchased my mother? The file Wren supplied me suggests so.
The shadow straightens up, its robes swishing around its feet. Is it a male or female? I can’t tell from this distance.
The air behind me ripples, and Rexton appears inside my office a second later. Has he finished with the succubus already? I check the clock, then return to my window. It’s been less than five minutes.
“Was she not to your liking?” I hum. “Or perhaps she wasexactlywhat you needed. I won’t tell anybody you finished so quickly.”
Rexton frowns. He doesn’t appreciate my humor. “We need to talk.”
“About what?”
I’m sick of talking. It rarely gets me anywhere, and I’m coming to realize it’s nothing more than a colossal waste of time.
Rexton clears his throat. “About sexual harassment.”
I laugh.
Rexton doesn’t.
He can’t be serious.
“Are you suggesting that I’ve sexually harassed you?”
The question is bitter on my tongue. It’s a question I never thought I’d ask. It’s outrageous.
“I am,” Rexton says. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
“This ismyoffice.”
Rexton can’t tell me what to do, not within my own space.
“I’m aware.”
To keep the peace, I sink into my chair. Rexton lowers himself into the one opposite me.
“This isn’t fun for me, either,” he says, “but it’s become clear that we should establish some boundaries.”
He’s being genuine. I can’t believe it.
