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Cringing, I walk through the door, closing it behind me cautiously, and approach his desk.
Sweet bejeezus. He’s...
Somehow, he’s hotter than I remember in his tailored suit, pressed to his body like a second skin. The man is a moving sculpture, so flawless it hurts. Bernini, eat your heart out.
I’m paralyzed and gawking.
Look, it was one thing knowing Mr. Dark Knight was my boss, but coming face-to-face with him in the torrid flesh is so not something I’m ready for.
Sad memories of Friday night whip through my mind like my life flashing before my eyes.
His powerful hand in mine.
Being pressed against his marble-hard body as he carried me to the car, up the stairs, and tumbled me into bed.
The way he took care of me like a bygone gentleman.
Oh, I was stupid, thinking he actually liked me in my washed-out state.
Ten thousand ughs.
Paige, you’ve got to do this. Now or never, a voice nags in the back of my head.
“Just put them wherever,” he growls without even looking up.
Oh. My. God.
“Right.” I lay the files down at the clear edge of his well-organized mahogany desk, but I make no effort to move.
My words are stuck, so I clear my throat like an insanely awkward species of bird.
He finally spares me a flaying glance. It freezes over into a proper stare a second later.
Not like the way I can’t rip my eyes off him. More like he’s pissed that I dare even breathe the same air in his presence.
“What do you want?” He stands, drawing up to his full imposing height.
Eep. I rock from my heels to my toes, forgetting the mechanics of stilettos.
Frick.
I almost hit the floor, grabbing at the side of his desk to catch myself. I haven’t said anything yet and I’ve already managed to blow it.
“Are you okay, Miss Holly? Watch your step. We’re not looking for a liability suit around here,” he clips.
“Yes!” I hiss.
I know. I have an amazing track record of forgetting how my feet work around him.
He rolls his eyes. “Have you had ‘just one glass of wine’ today?”
Blood pumps under my cheeks, and we haven’t even gotten to the part that should be uncomfortable yet. I jerk my head toward the wall, away from those punishing teal eyes.
“Of course not. I just sometimes forget I have to shift my energy in heels. My roommate used to wear my shoes more than I did, but then she moved out and—” I clamp my jaw shut.
Yep, I ramble when I’m nervous.
His face tightens in this sneering smirk as he walks around his desk, assessing me. He glances at my feet, cocks his head, and seems to accept my answer.
I hate that I have to convince this guy I’m not a drunk at work. I wasn’t even drunk on Friday night, unless it was really strong wine.
I don’t know. What if Nameless really did slip something in my drink?
“Kindly get to the point. I don’t have all day,” he says.
“I think you know why I’m here, Mr. Brandt.” I focus on the pointed toes of my heels. “About the other night—”
“You mean the night I witnessed your public intoxication?”
I swing my head back and release a breath.
He’s not going to make this easy.
“I—um—I had no idea who you were, or that we’d ever see each other again. I didn’t know we’d be working together or that I’d morbidly embarrass myself in front of a partner at this firm.” I force myself to meet his eyes. I have to or the next part won’t matter. “I assure you, I don’t usually react that way to a drink. I’m painfully sorry. It will never, ever happen again. I deeply appreciate the opportunity to work here, and I’m going to do the best I can for everyo—”
“So you want validation,” he spits.
Holy hell. I’m rapidly finding out why the Warden name fits. He talks to me like I’m wearing orange.
I bite my lip. “I was just hoping—if you’re willing—maybe we could just—”
“What? Forget it ever happened?” He cocks his head, spearing me with those sea-storm eyes.
“Yes! That!” I smile until my face feels numb.
He crosses his arms, biceps barely contained by his sleeves. “No chance in hell that’s going to happen. In fact, I told my grandmother to fire you before I ever left your apartment Friday night since you were so stinking drunk.”
He—what?
It’s a fight to stay standing because of course he isn’t done.
“For whatever reason, Grandma wouldn’t do it. You have her to thank for that. Not me. She sees something in you. I’m sure it’s because she’s not wearing her bifocals, but you don’t serve under me exclusively, and Miss Holly, you should be very, very thankful for that. If you did, I’d make sure you didn’t last a day.”
Nice. Well, asshat, don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.
