I smirk. “How very…”
“How very what?” A deep masculine voice cuts me off.
I freeze, then slowly glance over my shoulder, only to find Evan standing there, a glare on his face. Of course. I expect nothing else.
That glare is practically trademarked at this point.
My cheeks warm, but I force myself to straighten. I refuse to let this man intimidate me. Meeting his eyes, I let a smirk curl my lips. “How very health conscious of you, Evan. Didn’t take you for someone who would swap bread for turkey slices. Maybe L.A. would suit you better,” I muse sardonically.
His jaw tightens, a flicker of irritation flashing in those icy blues. He drags a thumb slowly across his full bottom lip. My gaze drops to the movement before I can stop it. Heat coils low in my stomach, shifting lower, lower… and lower. My tongue darts out, and I lick my lips, wishing I could press my mouth to his just once. I inwardly groan. Jesus, God help me. What I wouldn’t give for…
A throat clears, snapping me back to reality, and I find Evan watching me with his usual, cold, indifferent stare. His jaw tics as if he can read every word in my head.
He probably can. I’m not exactly discreet when I look at him.
“Just get my damn lunch, Anais,” he barks, striding past me to his office. At the threshold, he throws over his shoulder. “I want it in thirty minutes. Not a second later.”
The door slams shut, and I glower at the thick oak panel.
Asshole.
“He’s not usually so… hostile about his lunch,” Janice says, a hint of confusion in her voice.
I glance over at her, catching the frown on her face and the pity in her eyes. I hate it.
I force a smile, reaching over and patting her hand gently. “Don’t worry, Janice. This version of Evan Maxwell is the one I’m used to.”
After picking up Evan’s lunch – and yes, I did ask them to sneak in a few bread croutons just to be petty – I grab something for myself, and head back to the office.
I glance at my watch. I have five minutes to spare. I could get it to him on time… but where’s the fun in that?
A wicked grin spreads across my face, as I stride over to the lobby couches and take a seat. Placing my purse on my lap, I pull my phone out and find a message from Lana.
Lana: How’s your first day going?
I type out a quick response.
Me: It’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.
Lana replies almost immediately.
Lana: That’s my girl. Call me later.
I don’t bother to respond; my best friend’s message wasn’t a question but a command.
I slide my phone back into my purse, satisfied, I’ve killed enough time to be late with his Highness’s lunch. Some might call it childish, but Evan Maxwell brings out the defiance in me.
I cross the lobby to the elevators, hitting the call button. It only takes seconds for it to arrive. The doors slide open, and I step inside, pressing the button for the thirty eighth floor.
The higher the numbers climb, the wider my smile grows. That’s until the doors slide open, to reveal an angry looking Evan waiting for me. I gasp, my breath lodging in my throat at the sight of him. His jaw tics, his expression dark. And those cold eyes are locked on me, like I’m everything wrong in this world.
Shit. Maybe I pushed him too far.
“Tell me, Anais,” he growls. “Is it your sole mission in life to piss me off?”
I raise an eyebrow. This asshole really doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.
I shoulder past him aiming for my desk, but he catches my wrist, stopping me. I gasp at the contact, my eyes darting to where he grips me. His touch sears into my skin, burning me, and evoking a maelstrom of emotions within me.
