“That was a normal exchange until you showed up,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “I can take care of myself, and I have security guards looking out for me.” I nod towards the burly man hidden in the shadows.
Bloody hell, I can’t have him lurking around me like some extra security detail. I’m not able to do what I need to do if I have to worry about him getting upset.
“Mark, seriously, let me do my job.”
His gaze drops to the hem of my skirt. “It’s too short. Everyone can see your cheeks.”
I tilt my head and shrug in a ‘yeah, well’ kind of way.
“I need to get back to work,” I say, despite the growing heat in me from the intensity of his glare. I’m annoyed he’s getting involved in my work, but I’m also turned on by the possessive way he’s looking at me. Like those arehisarse cheeks to look at and no one else’s.
As long as he knows it’s my choice and not his, he can feel whatever he wants about it.
His chest heaves.
“I don’t like this, Rey,” he says, stepping closer.
“It’s not for you to like or not, Mark, I’m working, and this is my uniform today.”
“I mean it.”
The heat that was working its way through me turns back to the fury that started bubbling in me before.
Of course he doesn’t approve. What made me think he would? He doesn’t understand that I don’t care what he thinks about thejob. I care about him respecting my choices. I wish he could just look at me with pride that I do what makes me happy.
“Well, I like it. Now please let me do it properly.”
I walk away, this is not the place for a discussion. But he follows close behind.
“Rey,” he growls, but I keep walking, smiling at the group of guests passing, without registering their faces. I pretend I can’t feel the vibrations of the man prowling behind me.
“I can’t keep looking at you walking around like this. Watching people ogle you.”
“And I can’t screw up my job.”
I spot the ladies’ room up ahead and push the door open. It’s empty.
“Get in,” I say. “Let’s talk in private.”
The security guard shows up behind Mark and I hold up a hand to stop him. “It’s fine,” I say, and Mark turns.
“Oh, hi, Mr Becker,” the guard says. “Are you sure you’re alright, miss?” he asks, looking at me now.
I nod and step into the ladies’ room, which of course isn’t your average restaurant restroom. The walls are covered in pink mosaic, lit up from behind. The whole room is glowing. The sinks are shaped like leaves, and the taps are all made of gorgeous brass. There’s even a green velvet chaise lounge—you know, for those who come in here to chill out.
The heat emanating from the man behind me is impossible to ignore, regardless of the beauty of the room.
“Rey,” he whispers, a hand finding my waist from behind. “Where can I kiss you?”
I sigh and turn. The man is irresistible. I want to be angrywith him, to tell him to let me get back to work. But I also want his hands all over me. Unfortunately, most of me is covered in paint.
“Nowhere…?” I gesture to my painted arms and face.
“Even…” His hand travels down, past the hem of my skirt, “…here?”
My breath hitches. “Mark,” I breathe, “I’m working.”
“I just want to kiss you.”
