CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
rebels
REY
I float through the office on my happy little cloud that’s all because of Robin (and partially because I adore this colourful place). The last two weeks have been dreamy. Since last weekend, we’ve texted throughout the day, every day, and he calls me at night. It’s been hot, but also very sweet.
“Don’t go,” he said after the third night. “Stay on the call.”
“But I have to go to sleep,” I answered.
“So sleep. I’ll just be here.”
So I did.
Almost every night.
And I can’t get enough. It’s addictive—Robin talking about his family and growing up as the big brother (he has three sisters!), Robin sharing memories of his best friend getting him into trouble in school, or even just the subtle sound of his breathing when I’m the one babbling away. But I can’t decide whether my favourite is his voice when he says dirty things, when he groans, or when he orders me to do things like, ‘Come for me’.
So demanding. I’m loving it now. He’s direct. Except he’sskirting around his VVIP status, but I haven’t dared bring it up.
I’m also too busy imagining his hands are on me.
My body remembers every touch from the pitch-black experience at The Orion. Every kiss, every breath on my skin, and, most of all, his facedownthere. I’ve never fainted in my life, but I was damned close that night.
My clit is throbbing just thinking about it.
Shit, I can’t sit here, horny at my desk.
I get up to walk it off, but the sound of Horace’s voice makes me turn around. He’s coming out of Mark’s office, and I accidentally meet Mark’s piercing gaze through the open door. The gaze I’ve been avoiding since he moved down here. And there’s a highly confusing moment when my clit’s practically on fire from fantasising about Robin, but I’m looking directly at the ridiculously handsome shape and sizzling eyes of my CEO. Someone I don’t even think I like.
Before I let the awkward moment drag out any longer, and before my brain has fully registered that Horace’s mouth moves somewhere in my side-vision, I swivel on my heel and charge down the room to the coffee machine. A gigantic cup of coffee should do the trick.
Footsteps sound behind me, and I’m sure it’s Horace coming to say whatever he tried to tell me before I literally ran away.
I turn around with a sheepish smile already forming on my face. “Sorry, Horace, I?—”
It’s not Horace.
It’s Mark. With his mouth pressed together in a thin line.
Horace told me last week that Mark had questioned my role here, but the fact that I’m still here means Horace’s explanation must have been acceptable. The sight of Mark now makes me think otherwise.
“Rosemary.”
The sound of my full name gives me chills. He must have found it in the personnel files—no one calls me that. The sound of it on his lips is the deeper version of my mum’s judgemental tone, and I shrink.
Mark knits his brow at me, eyes searching my face. I do my best to appear strong.
“You have been inducted into this company, correct?”
The question catches me off guard. His deep, calm voice makes my stomach tingle, and I don’t understand why it doesn’t scare me shitless. It makes no sense.
Confusion makes it hard for me to keep my composure and form a response.
“Umm, sort of? I went through the content on my own.”
“Did Horace take you through Infinio’s style guide?”
