AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mr. Banks glances at his business partner, probably because it’s odd that he hasn’t greeted me yet. “You realize who this is, don’t you? Emelia is one of our new hires.”
I could choke. If Mr. Banks only knew…
“Yes. Hello, Emelia.”
I nod in his direction but otherwise keep my focus on Mr. Banks.
“You both look very dapper. I hate to have to miss the evening, but I really do need to be going…”
Mr. Banks nods and motions toward the door with his champagne flute. “Of course. Do you need a ride? My driver might still be outside.”
Professor Barclay sighs in annoyance at his suggestion. “She can’t go out the front. It’s a madhouse—the photographers will still be everywhere.”
“They won’t care about me,” I start to say, but he’s already stepping forward with annoyance, and before he’s even asked my permission, he has me in hand. Without a word of explanation to Mr. Banks, who stares after us in shock, he leads me down the side hall, away from the ballroom and the front entrance of the hotel. As we walk, he takes his phone out of his pocket to call someone, instructing them to have a car waiting at the back of the hotel near the service entrance. Of course, he doesn’t fill me in. He doesn’t even deign to look at me, which frustrates me to no end.
“Just to be clear, I’m trying to keep my distance from you just like you asked.You’rethe one gripping my arm.”
His gaze pierces me. “Don’t be a child.”
“I’m not a child. You know better than anyone that my birthday just passed. I hardly think a twenty-five-year-old is a child.”
“It’s not your age. It’s how you are, so naive and petulant. Even now you won’t come with me easily—I’m having to drag you down the hall.”
I nearly laugh.
“Perhaps you could try being polite for once?” I give him examples. “Emelia, please come with me.Or evenEmelia, take my hand.”
His grip only tightens on my forearm. “You wouldn’t respond to that, and we both know it.”
His words set me ablaze.
How can he do that? How can he dig inside me and find that pearl of truth so easily? No one else can, so why him?
I should keep quiet and let this play out quickly. He’ll leave me on the curb outside and hurry back to the gala to schmooze with all of his rich, fancy friends. Beautiful women will get the pleasure of looking at him in his tuxedo all night, and I’m so envious I could scream. I want more from this exchange. I want to hide under the effects of my two drinks and pretend none of this matters. None of this is real. Tomorrow, everything will be right back to the way it was.
We reach a heavy metal door, and he pushes it open.
Already, a black SUV idles by the curb.
I panic as he pulls me toward it. The opportunity has almost passed.
“You haven’t said anything about my dress, Professor Barclay.”
“You don’t want to hear my thoughts about you in that dress.”
Oh but I do. I really,reallydo.
“One word won’t hurt,” I say, smiling in innocence.
He opens the back door of the car and deposits me inside. His blue eyes are level with mine as he leans in to click my seatbelt into place.
“Lethal.”
Then the door gets slammed, and I’m left alone in the back seat, blinking.
I think on that word the entire way home while I bite back a self-satisfied smile. Then, in bed that night, I look up the definition just to be sure I’ve caught every nuance of his compliment (or was it a critique?).
Lethal(adjective)
1) of, relating to, or causing death
2) gravely damaging or destructive
3) very potent or effective
