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“Apology not accepted.” I turn on my heel, passing Greer. “Don’t you dare sell him a damn thing. He doesn’t deserve your muffins.”
“But are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say.
I’ll be fine, as soon as I beat this guy at his own game.
Chapter Five
Theo
“You’re a bloody beast, aren’t you?” Aiden asks appreciatively as he looks over my shoulder at my blotter. “Up not one, but two million? In a single day? We don’t see that often here at A&T.”
“From my understanding, you never see it,” I reply.
I hit enter to send a Bloomberg of updated axes to the sales force, and wait for the satisfaction of a day spent dominating to wash over me. It’s after six p.m., which means I’ll be relaxing on my couch with a Manhattan soon. My first day in my new seat went even better than I thought it would, and I won my bet with Nora. Not by much, granted, but I still won. And now here’s my boss, staring in happy disbelief at all the money I just made his desk. Turns out I’m not able to attend that conference with him—just too much happening in my trading book already—but he didn’t seem to mind.
I should be doing a fucking jig in the street. Instead, I’m buzzing with this kind of weird, angry . . . anxiety, almost. Like I drank too much coffee after staying up too late drinking too many beers. I hold my mouse in a death grip and tell myself the memory of how soft and vulnerable Nora’s wrist felt in my hand will go away if I just squeeze the mouse harder. If I just stay on top of one more salesperson to get one more trade done. If I just push myself a little more.
But the more I pushed myself today, the more my mind spun out. Nora didn’t say a word to me after the Muffin Cart Incident, except in reference to the handful of trades we ended up doing together. The longer this went on, the more pissed off I got. And then I got even more pissed that I was pissed about her in the first place.
Who cares if she doesn’t like me?
Why am I being such a dick to her?
Why does she matter if I keep winning?
Did she look at my mouth because I turn her on?
The Bloomberg doesn’t go through. I hit the enter key again. And again. And again, pounding so hard my screens experience a mini-earthquake. “Godfuckingdamnit!”
“‘Beast’ is an understatement,” Porgeous says. He’s on his feet behind his desk, zipping up his vest. “Everything okay over there?”
“Yeah, mate, perhaps it’s time to call it a day,” Aiden says with a pat on my shoulder. “We all need to blow off some steam every now and again.”
I grit my teeth. “I’m great, thanks.”
My eyes catch on a flash of pink in the corner of my vision. I look up to see Nora stand and shrug into an elegant cashmere coat before looping her massive bag over her shoulder. My chest goes tight, tighter still when I see the light blue thumbprints under her eyes.
She’s tired.
She catches me staring and narrows her eyes, flipping her Mercedes key over her first finger. I latch onto the thought that she’s probably driven a seventy-thousand-dollar car since the day her parents bought her a brand-new BMW for her sixteenth birthday.
She’s the worst.
“Something I can do for you, Morgan?” she asks.
The words tumble out of my mouth before I can think better of them. “Nah. Wouldn’t want to make you late for your Pilates class.” Seriously, what is wrong with me?
“Pilates gives me the strength to wield large objects,” she replies evenly. “Foldable brooms. Billy clubs.”
“That sounds rather interesting,” Aiden says with an uncertain chuckle.
I don’t realize one of the buttons pops off my mouse until it hits me in the face. Nicky guffaws, but Nora, ever the well-bred lady, merely twitches those bright pink lips—she’s reapplied her lipstick.
“Don’t forget,” I manage. “Tomorrow you’re a hobbit.”
She dips her chin. “I honor my word, unlike some people.”
“Oh? There was a bet? Do tell! I’m a git for being the last to know.” Aiden says. “Here, Nora, I’ll walk you out and you can fill me in on the details.”
Without another word, Nora heads for the exit, Aiden hot on her heels. I follow them with my eyes, not missing the way Aiden’s hand hovers over the small of Nora’s back. That tight feeling in my chest returns with a vengeance. Something’s going on there. The two of them look good together, him in his pinstriped suit and shiny shoes, her in her beautifully cut coat and that fucking lipstick.
He holds the door open for her and she smiles, stepping through. I bite my cheek and look away. Of course she’d go for a guy like him. Rich. Polished. Cultured. Apparently his dad is an earl or something back in the U.K., straight up Bridgerton shit. No doubt my sisters would lose their minds if they ever met the guy. Then again, they lose their minds pretty much anytime they meet members of the opposite sex, so . . .
