Page 7 of Beguiled

On top of the ugly start, my poor kitty hadn’t received her morning snuggles. She would be a pissy little bitch when I returned. Nothing a little catnip couldn’t fix.

Yeah, I was in a foul mood.

Which is why without thinking, the good girl side of me failed completely and utterly. I managed to step in front of him, painting on a practiced smile while yanking the phone from his hand.

“What the?—”

“Jeanine,” I said, cutting him off. “Your boss is suddenly in a crisis moment where he’s uncertain of the best way to get his head out of his ass. Now, I realize your job might be very important to you, but there are other jobs and other bosses. This one will never learn it’s all the people who work for him, not under him, who can make or break a company. For now, take your vacation and enjoy yourself. When you return, find another job where weasels don’t run free.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” he huffed and puffed. Of course he did. I skipped launching into him personally. That would truly get me on the naughty list for the holiday season.

And I was all about the presents.

“Making someone’s day.”

“Give me back my phone.” His demand was adorned with a red face and an attitude that screamed of a man capable of terrifying young girls in a dark alley.

The phone accidentally on purpose slipped from my fingers, immediately stepped on by several New Yorkers, all of which were running as late as I was.

“Oops.” My smile more genuine, I suddenly had a little pep to my step as I gently pushed my way through the crowd and toward the building where I worked, thankful I traveled in running shoes, my heels in my tote bag. A single check of my watch was enough to initiate a horrific groan.

I was already late. My only hope was that my boss had taken the morning to sleep in.

As I rushed inside, I almost knocked over a guy who was way shorter than me. “Excuse me. So sorry.” He didn’t seem worse for the wear, smiling from the close contact. I was full on running toward the bank of elevators, zigging and zagging my way through the onslaught of people.

One of eight elevator doors was still open. “Hold the elevator. Hold it!” My cry was certainly loud enough the man standing by the control panel could hear. In fact, I know he heard me because we locked eyes a split second before he shifted his hand onto another button.

And the doors closed.

“You son of a…” I glanced around me, cognizant I’d made a scene. “Biscuit eater.” As my mother would say. With no time to waste, I smacked my hand on the up button, immediatelyglancing at the LED displays indicating what floor they were on. Why were they all going up at the same time?

After three more brutal smashes of my palm on the button, I considered taking the stairs.

“Relax,” some guy said from behind me. “It’s a gorgeous sunny Wednesday in the best city in the world.”

There were actually people who were that damn chipper. I resisted even turning around for fear the same expletives I’d thought about for ten minutes would be used on the wrong man. As I waited, I tried to envision a happy, peaceful location where time stood still. A location where the world went silent because of extreme relaxation and not from a powerful man entering a room.

Let’s face it. While the jerk from minutes before did have a special place in hell based on the way he treated people, my anger was directed toward someone else.

My boss.

A man who made Hannibal Lecter seem like a favorite uncle who enjoyed inviting you to dinner.

The man so many called the Wolf. Why? Because he was a silent predator controlling and stalking the halls of the Chertov Corporation. If he was a shifter, he’d be sleek black in color, a deadly killer. I’d envisioned him more than once with sharp canines, slicing through a man’s jugular. That helped ease the pressure of being his… glorified assistant.

He was also the man I’d briefly thought a hero, saving me from a drunk asshole on a glorious night where I’d believed fantasies did come true. The moment I’d walked into his office afterpassing the first round of interviews, I’d been blown away. I hadn’t recognized his face at first, especially since he hadn’t been wearing his signature glasses, but the man I’d had an intimate interlude with had been holding court behind his desk.

Wearing a smug look.

Maybe to use in punishing me later or to hold something over my head, not a word had been mentioned about that night. I’d spent months tiptoeing around the incident as if it had never happened. But given the brief conversation we’d had at the time, I honestly believed that’s why he’d chosen to make my life completely miserable.

At least I’d learned early on how accurate the phrase that looks could be deceiving was.

The second the elevator doors slowly opened, I was the first one inside, crowding the corner in the back. If I was going for a little space, I was an idiot. The steel box was soon packed like sardines. To avoid suffocation, I closed my eyes and instantly, images of my boss’s chiseled face popped into my mind, a cause-and-effect moment hitting me hard. In a split second, my pulse had skyrocketed.

He could still cause me to swoon. Damn the man.

I narrowly avoided another collision while heading to my desk, which was strategically placed just outside my boss’ office. When I slipped in, I tried to avoid eye contact with anyone else. I’d jump into work and no one would ever know I was twenty-seven minutes late.