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And I know him! I know him well enough to understand that he’s waiting for me to speak first, to give him some idea of how I feel. For
all he knows, I’m there for a little late-night sex—he wishes!
I grind my teeth together and move closer. ‘How dare you?’
Anger it is.
‘Come inside, Olivia,’ he says with a sigh, stepping back and holding the door to allow me in.
I glare at him as I pass, kicking my shoes off once I reach the lounge area. The white carpet is soft underfoot. I spin around to face him; he’s keeping a safe distance. Good.
‘Is something the matter?’
I thrust my hands on my hips. ‘Yes.’
‘What?’
‘Where do I start?’ Somewhere in the back of my mind, I notice that he’s changed into grey jeans and a white shirt. That his feet are bare and so sexy and his arms, all tanned and strong, are almost making me forget what I came here to say.
But I won’t let him do that to me.
Not now. This is important. ‘I didn’t want your help with my career.’
His eyes narrow. ‘You wouldn’t have got an interview without my help.’
Oh! Be still my angry, insulted, furious heart! A heart that is being stretched in a bazillion directions all at once by disbelief and indignation, pain and fury. ‘How bloody arrogant are you?’ I fume, the words quiet even as my temper soars into the stratosphere. ‘I’m a great candidate. I’ve got great grades. I’ve made everything I studied about getting a job with the CPS.’
‘You heard Dash,’ he interrupts, clearly not comprehending the degree of my anger. ‘The chances of getting a traineeship through the CPS are minuscule.’
‘But there is still a chance!’ I say angrily. ‘And I deserve that chance. I would have got an interview myself, Connor, believe me.’ I narrow my eyes unconsciously. ‘This is my life.’
The words hang between us like a gauntlet.
‘It’s my career,’ I continue. ‘And I don’t ever want to look back and think that maybe I got to wherever I get because I slept with you and you just happened to know someone!’
He runs his fingers through his hair, tension emanating from his powerful frame. ‘You’re being...’
‘What? What am I being?’
‘Childish!’ he snaps. ‘That’s not how it works in the real world. And Jesus, Olivia, if you think anyone is going to give you a job just because I recommended you then you’re delusional. This will all be about the quality of your application.’
‘We’ll never know that,’ I shout. ‘And I wore this!’ I unfurl the pashmina and throw it angrily to the ground, then gesture at the silk dress. ‘To what was probably the most important meeting of my professional life.’
‘You don’t have to remind me what you were wearing.’ The words are throaty, filled with the sensuality that defines us.
I brush it aside. ‘I thought this was a date!’
He is watchful, his features still. ‘A date with me?’
‘Obviously, a date with you!’
His expression is bemused, like the danger is over and he can go back to being charming and sexy. Who am I kidding? He’s never charming and that’s what’s sexy about him. His arrogance, toughness, darkness, his genuine, bona fide not giving a shit—this is what I love.
We are yin and yang—we are completely unalike and his differences to me are what draw me closer. The differences are what I crave—but it is all of him I love.
Oh, God.
I am stunned—silent and still as realisation begins to explode inside me. I am so angry with him—how can I possibly think I love him?
