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He’s big like Oran, but that’s where their similarities end. With his full beard and brown hair, I’d say he looks more like Bluto the Terrible from Popeye. And, with the way I feel, he can easily be a villain.
Disengaging, I move away from him. “Sorry, I didn’t feel well.” I lied. “I’ll tell Oran you said hello. Excuse me.” He calls my name as I pull open the door. “Yes.”
“We will see each other again.” His smile is more predatory than friendly.
Instantly, I realize one of my suspicions is incorrect. Oran and Elmer don’t operate the same. They’re nothing alike. Maybe my emotional state has me sensitive, but I didn’t like the vibe I got from him at all. I’m spooked enough to sink on one chair inside the store and retrieve my phone.
“What?” Oran answers and even with him being grumpy, I feel better just being on the phone with him.
“Are you busy?” I ask briskly, still looking around in case his dad was still close.
“If I were watching paint grow, I’d still be too busy to talk to you.”
The asshole hangs up in my face, but at least this is familiar. He doesn’t answer when I call back. Switching tactics, I call his office.
“What the fuck do you want?” He growls.
“I need to talk to you-”
“Don’t worry about talking to me now. Take your ass back wherever you were and lose my number.”
“You might be the first man in history to tell his wife to lose his number.”
“You’re not worried about being my wife, remember? Did you think I was too busy plotting with my dad for your insignificant stake in real estate to notice that you’d snuck off? Continue being a fucking brat, Princess. Run back to your daddy because I’m tired of looking at your ass.”
He slams the phone down. Being hung up on hits different from a landline.
“What a jackass,” I seethe, and clench my fists.
I’m trying to tell him something important and he’s not listening.
Bully the bully. Out asshole the asshole.
I carry Ainslee’s advice with me on my way to Oran’s office.
Chapter 19
Oran
The wall shudders when the door bangs against it from the force of Karessa pushing it open. If she were a cartoon, I’d see steam coming off her body. She glares at me, but I remain unbothered. I meant what I said over the phone and don’t give a damn about her coming out of hiding. She’s been ghosting me for a week based on made up allegations, so fuck her and the stilettos she walked in on. We stare at each other for a moment, daring the other to speak.
Maisy, my frazzled secretary, runs in behind Karessa. She’s slightly out of breath, which shows Karessa ignored her attempt to keep her out of my office. Karessa glares at her, silently daring her to touch her or say something. If I weren’t in fuck you mode, this would be damn sexy. Maisy’s lip quivers as she looks from me to her, to determine who’s lead she should follow. The boss or his wife. After a moment, she sighs and walks away, closing the door behind her. I guess she’d rather get fired than go head to head with Karessa.
I laugh on the inside. Moving back to the document, I pretend she doesn’t exist.
“Care to say it to my face?” She challenges me.
I snort and continue to work. “I’ve never held my tongue or stuttered before. You heard me. Go back to wherever you were. I’m busy,” I dismiss her like she works for me.
I don’t care that the way she looks in her fit and flare sundress will give me wet dreams later. At this rate, I know where we’re headed. She got me fucked up if she thinks she can accuse me of working with the man I’m trying to protect her from, then leave for days with no word. I can’t be the man she always wanted and be out to get her at the same time. Karessa has to decide. Until then, I have shit to do.
I rub my ring with my thumb as I read. It’s an annoying habit I’ve picked up since getting the damn thing. I don’t know why I enjoy being able to feel it, but I do. I catch the green of her dress in my peripheral right before I see her red polished toes in multi-colored peep toe shoes. She’s standing on my desk like she’s lost her damn mind.
Leaning back in my chair, I look up at her.
“Get your ass off my desk.”
One of her perfect eyebrows arch higher than the other, but she doesn’t acknowledge my order. Instead, like a damn house cat, she stretches her foot and knocks a pile of files off my desk.
