Why does it feel like I’m the only sane one here?
And why does being the sane one feel so lonely? And small? And wrong? “You must agree that this is a bad idea.”
“I don’t see it that way, but okay. I understand your objections. I don’t agree with them, but I see your point,” he says.
It should feel like a victory, but it doesn’t.
“So you will behave?” The lust-ridden part of me wants him to say no.
“I promise, Little Thunder.”
“Thank you.”
It doesn’t feel good, though.
I stopped this madness to protect myself, to makesure I don’t jeopardize my chances to break free from my family’s commitment.
So why does it feel like I’m betraying myself? Like I just slammed a door on something that could ruin me… or save me?
Chapter 12
Liam
Ipay for my coffee and drag my feet through the lobby. The past two weeks have been moving like molasses. Slower probably. We’re still waiting to hear from Hearthstone Foods.
Cal is giving me assignments suitable for an intern, which should offend me. I can’t even pretend to care. He’s having fun making me jump through hoops. He can go fuck himself.
I take two sips of the coffee and dump it before I even leave the coffee shop. I feel stuck, and no amount of caffeine can fix that.
I haven’t progressed in my mission here. Sometimes, I don’t remember what the mission was.
Getting close to Roxy, and through her to her father.
Instead, Roxy got under my skin and somehow redirected the course of the mission. Pathetic.
She’s been avoiding me, and I’m trying to respect her wishes and stay away. Failing at it miserably.
I spy on her when she pours her coffee. I linger around the copy machine when she is talking to the mousy woman from HR.
A few times, I sent her lunch—anonymously—because she seems to be losing weight. And I have every curve of hers memorized. Unfortunately.
Yet every time we’re in the same room, I ignore her. That’s what she wanted after all.
Yeah, I turned into an immature teenager. Exhibit A: I fucking came in my pants when she rode my thigh.
That kiss was something else. Full of need, passion, and life. I know it was an adrenaline-induced spark, but fuck if I don’t want that mouth again.
The worst part? The distance she created is not helpful for my plans here. Not at all. It doesn’t look like Roxy is even close to her father. The woman works seven days a week. She practically sleeps in that office.
She never talks about her family. And I eavesdropped enough to know.
Needless to say, I’ve been on edge. If I were to define my past two weeks, irritation would be the keyword.
To pass the time, I bought a garage and got theBentley over from San Francisco. Some entertainment, at least. The engine doesn’t argue with me.
“Hold it,” I call, approaching the closing doors of the elevator.
It jerks open again, and I step in. My gaze meets the only other person in the car. The exasperated sigh suggests she regrets opening the door.
