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At the end of the meal, Gus insists on paying the bill.
He gives me another pat on the back when we exit the restaurant. “You did well, son. Congratulations.” Waving at Carter who gets into a Jaguar on the other end of the parking lot, he says from the corner of his mouth, “You had the fucking CEO of Platinum Consolidated eating out of your hand.” He opens his door and shoots me an appraising smile. “You’re going places, Hart.”
There’s no arguing that fact. Let’s hope Violet is going to like those places, because there’s no turning back.
CHAPTER 22
Violet
Sitting in the new Lexus outside the office, I consider pretending to be sick for the tenth time, but Gus doesn’t allow employees to stay away from work without a medical certificate. To be honest, I do feel sick. I haven’t slept all night, and I’ve been nauseous all day, terrified that Leon discovered my crime, but nothing happened. He can’t possibly know what I’ve done. Still, my guilt makes me nervous to face him.
Not having a choice, I take a deep breath and go inside. It’s best to get the unpleasant business with over first. After putting away my handbag, I gather all the courage I possess and carry the paper bag with Leon’s clean shirt to his desk.
Even though he always works late, I was hoping he would’ve gone home already. No such luck. He looks up as I approach and leans back in his chair with a sexy tilt to his lips.
“Violet,” he says in a deep, low voice when I stop next to his desk. “You didn’t answer my message.”
I take in his formal attire, trying my best to ignore the curious peeks from the other programmers. “It’s not like you to dress up for work.”
“I had a lunch date.”
I raise a brow. “Was she pretty?”
“Jealous?”
“Relieved.”
His expression is amused. “Careful. You’ll break a man’s heart.”
“You need a heart to have it broken.”
“Touché.” His lips curve into a full smile. “I warned you about not answering my messages.”
Despite the act I’m putting on, the wild beat of my heart doesn’t slow down. My spiking pulse has more to do with the guilt eating me alive than annoyance at how he’s trying to dictate not only my behavior but also my life.
Throwing the paper bag on his desk, I say, “Your shirt.”
“Ah.” He pulls the bag closer and peers inside. “You are capable of obedience yet.”
“I’m not a child.”
“Like I said, if you don’t act like one, I won’t have to treat you like one.”
I cross my arms. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”
Instead of putting the bag away, he removes the shirt and shakes it out, waving it in the air like a big white flag for everyone to see.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, glancing around.
Someone wolf-whistles. The other employees are openly staring now.
My cheeks turn hot. “You’ll give them the wrong impression.”
“What wrong impression? That I slept over? I can always set them straight and tell them the truth.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” I hiss.
“Where’s the harm in telling them you spilled wine on my shirt?” He makes big eyes. “You didn’t think I’d tell them about—”
“Don’t,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“Don’t worry, darling.” His smile is placating. Charming, almost. “I don’t talk out of the bedroom.”
Infusing my tone with sarcasm, I say, “Isn’t that a relief? Not that I’m planning on seeing the inside of your bedroom.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Be careful with those statements you’re throwing around. You’ll only prove yourself wrong.”
I clench my jaw. Anger heats my stomach, overriding my guilt. He always knows how to get a rise out of me.
“I’ve got work to do,” I say, turning on my heel. “I’ll tell our housekeeper you say thanks for the washing and ironing.”
Grabbing my wrist, he holds me back. “And here I was fantasizing about you sweating over an ironing board while pressing my shirt.”
I pull on his hold. “Let go.”
“You’re coming to my place after work.”
“I am not,” I whisper-cry.
He lowers his voice, speaking softly enough only for me to hear. “It wasn’t a request. You will come over. I’m going to feed you, and then I’m going to teach you how to reply to a message.”
I yank my arm free. “In your dreams.”
“Damn right.” He narrows his eyes. “Defy me, and it’ll be my wet dream come true.”
My lips part in shock. Unbelievable. I’m not even going to validate that statement with a reply. Fuming, I walk away. When I glance over my shoulder, I catch him staring after me. From two desks away, Elliot smirks.
Doing my best to pretend this whole twisted situation doesn’t exist, I get on with my work.
Just before eight, Elliot walks into Gus’s office. I notice because no one except Leon goes unsummoned into Gus’s office. Leon is the only one with the nerve. Up until today, not even Elliot dared to barge in there without a meeting. Why now? And why isn’t Gus yelling like he always does when someone interrupts him? While dusting, I steal glances at the closed door.
