And while I understood that the male would havedefinitelybeen looking at Lin the entire time, a little pang of something that felt suspiciously like jealousy filled my heart. Which I hadnoright to feel. I wasnotgoing to be jealous of my friend—the only one I’d made in the Bureau since I started a year ago.
I wheeled the cart that I was pushing around the corner, back toward where Lin was, and froze in my tracks. The male was still there. He was scribbling on a notepad while my friend spoke to him and I frowned.
Is he interviewing her or something?
More likely, he was writing down all the ways he could contact her for a date. Pushing down the nagging sadness and traces of envy that were bubbling up inside of me, I rolled my cart toward the service elevator, refusing to look at them again.
I’d catch up with Lin another time, and I might even be able to work up the courage to ask her if she’d accepted a date with the big, handsome male. The churning in my gut told me that it wasn’t likely I’d be able to, but as the doors to the elevator slid open and I rolled the cart inside, I promised myself that I would at least try.
Lin was an amazing female and she deserved a better friend than someone who wished they could be dating the male who had caught her eye. I looked up from where the doors were closing and was startled to see that while Lin was still talking to the male, he had stopped scribbling and was staring straight at me instead.
I turned, pressing my back against the reflective wall, my heart thundering in my chest. He had no right—no right—to be looking atmewhile talking to my friend. Especially not the way he had. With a focused intensity that was the exact opposite ofuninterested.
My breath escaped me in a slight wheeze as I remembered how those eyes had tracked me across the room. I shook my head, trying to remind myself that I was likelynevergoing to see himagain, so I had nothing to worry about.
I was still pressed against the wall when the doors slid open again and one of the males from the accounting department came through. He froze, seeing me pressed up against the wall, trying to be invisible, and I cleared my throat, sending a winning smile his way as I wheeled the cart out of the elevator.
The fake smile remained on my face until I turned the corner and a breath whooshed out of me. I pressed hard against where my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. Why thehellwas I feeling this way about a random male that I hadn’t even met?
Shaking my head and trying to get myself to focus, I wheeled the cart around another corner, making my way over to where the cubicles on the floor started. I cringed as I peeked over the tops, noticing that the office in the back corner was occupied.
Maybe he doesn’t have anything that needs to go to him.
Telling myself not to worry, I fanned through the mail, dread filled me as I saw the name scrawled across one of the envelopes.
Shit.
James Berard was the type of male that made you want to crawl out of your skin when you were in his presence. It was in the way that he spoke only to my breasts—and in the way that he found reasons to touch me no matter what I did to avoid it.
I’d become suspicious about the envelopes that always made their way into the mail room and needed to be delivered to his office. It was always the same handwriting and it wasalwayswhen I was scheduled. It wouldn’t be hard for him to get someone to mail him an empty envelope whenever I was around.
If only I had the guts to break the seal and check.
If I didn’t need the job so badly, I would have ripped the envelope to shreds in front of his stupid, smug face and killed him with a million papercuts. But Ididneed the job, and I didn’t have the kind of patience that was needed to deliver a millionpapercuts. So I released a deep sigh and pushed the cart through the cubicles, delivering mail as I went.
As far as part-time jobs went, this one was great. I liked working in the Bureau and seeing all the amazing things that they could do. They helped Magickal beings and creatures of every kind and I got to be a part of it—if only a small one.
This part though,I could do without.
The thought filled my mind as I wheeled the cart into Berard’s office and he leaned back in his huge leather chair, a smug smile spreading across his face. While the rest of the Bureau was sleek and modern, he’d filled this office with dark woods and leather.
His desk was a huge conquistador-style desk that I justknewwould be a bitch to clean. It was covered in little grooves and patterns that were neatly carved into the solid wood. It would have been a bitch to get inside as well, since most of the doorways couldn’t accommodate something so large. I was fairly certain the size of the desk was compensation for other places that were probablyseriouslylacking in his anatomy.
And the same went for the giant desk hutch that he had on the wall to the right. I was almost certain that his desk was supposed to be in front of it, because that was the layout of most of the other offices.
The occupants enjoyed looking out the massive windows. Instead, Berard had situated himselfrightin front of it, as if he was the most important thing to look at and he didn’t want the view to distract anyone from his presence. Anyone looking out the window wasforcedto look at him.
I hope you get gonorrhea.
Instead of saying that, I pasted a polite smile on my face and moved toward his desk with the envelope in hand. I wanted to toss it at him and get the hell out of there, but he wasjustthe kind of prick who would report me for that kind of behavior.
“Good morning Mr. Berard,” I said to him, aiming forabsolutely no tone at all. I didn’t want to sound like the way I felt—like I wanted to chop off his balls in his sleep and then rescue his poor wife from being subjected to him on a daily basis—but I also didn’t want to sound friendly.
I’d found out early on that friendly never went well when it came to Berard.
“Well, hello there, Emma,” he said, drawling my name as if he had some kind of right to it. His wedding band gleamed on his left hand as he gripped the back of his chair. There were pictures of his children lined up neatly on his desk, but his lascivious smile would have you believe he had neither a wife nor children. A married male shouldn’t be giving that smarmy smile to another woman. “It’s been a while.”
He stood, and I cringed, making my way to his desk. Cursing under my breath, I got to the desk just as he moved around it, grabbing my wrist and pulling me closer. “Stay a while. I have a great scotch that I got from a golfing buddy of mine,” he said, leaning back against the desk.
