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“Good luck with—with everything.”
“You too.”
I turn toward Hughes Financial Services with the impression that she’s turned the opposite way. Did she really, though? It’s not important.
Still, when I reach the doors, I can’t resist looking back for her.
The woman is nowhere to be seen on the street. It’s like she was never there at all.
12
WILL
Listen.
I know. Okay?
I fucking know.
I’m perfectly aware that I’m being unreasonable about the situation at Hughes Financial Services. Nobody locked me in a closet for a week and only agreed to let me out in exchange for my signature. I didn’t need more money. I could have kept Summit the way it was if I didn’t want it to change.
I also know that I’m a lying bastard about Bristol. I lied to her face. I kept telling her I didn’t want to see her, and that’s all I want.
Somehow, the innocent little temp turned the tables on me. She climbed onto my lap in this goddamn desk chair and basically challenged me to chase her out of here. She thought I’d come after her if she could prove she wasn’t shaken, not at all, by the way I cornered her in the bathroom and let myself loose on her.
Shebaitedme.
So now, of course, the only possible response is to stay the fuck away from her. Which have. Since that morning in my office, I haven’t touched her.
It’s killing me.
A week. An entire week of this, and I’m not going to survive another one. That’s a joke, isn’t it? I got so good at fighting, at being an angry prick, that I can’t go without it. I’m not even supposed to do any high-impact exercise. It’s not just that I can’t go to the warehouse and work off some of this energy. I can’t punch a bag at the gym. There’s only so much weights can do when it comes to burning this off.
I spent two hours at the gym this morning. Two hours, and I don’t feel any better than I did yesterday, or the day before that.
Because every day, I make excuses to go to Greg’s side of the building so I can look at Bristol.
She’s gorgeous in her cheap TJ Maxx skirt suits. I want to dress her in silk and cashmere. All the soft, nice things that I could buy without thinking twice.
I don’t let her see me. All I do is look at her and try not to die.
I’m not sure Icantalk to her without tearing her clothes off and fucking her. I haven’t found her limits yet, and I want to.
It’s possible the concussion did permanent damage, because the need to have my eyes on her feels completely out of my control. That’s not a thing. At least—itwasn’t.Not until Bristol walked into my life, and all the dangerous, violent parts of me started clawing their way out. There was Mountain Man at the warehouse, and the man who broke into her apartment, and both times, she was the one who brought me back from the brink of murder.
And I mean actual murder. I wouldn’t have stopped until they were dead if it weren’t for her voice in my head or her hand on my arm.
I go through the motions in my too-fancy office at Hughes Financial Industries. I reply to emails and add calls to my calendar and accept a cup of coffee from Call-Me-Candy.
I drink it, though she’s put one sugar and no cream and it’s totally fucking wrong.
All of it is background noise to the thoughts that won’t stop circling. Namely, what the fuck is wrong with me? Why did one sweet, innocent temp make me come completely unhinged? What is it about her that shreds my control?
Feelings,Emerson says in the back of my mind.They seem dangerous to you.
How soon can I go over to her side of the building? What excuse can I use today?
“You’re full of shit.”
