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When the fuck did she get a family? Her father is dead. She left her stepfather’s house that fateful day, and her mother is gone, too.
So she doesn’t have that. A family.
Or maybe she’s not fucked up in the head like I am and made herself a family like normal people are supposed to.
Either way, I reach the office carrying all the demons that I’ve been hiding for years. They’re proudly sitting on my shoulders now, on fucking display for the entire world to see.
And because I’m in a mood, I’m tempted to make someone else experience it, too. Specifically, her.
I stare at my watch, counting the seconds until she misses the eight a.m. mark, but she comes inside at that exact moment, carrying the cup of coffee in one hand and the files in the other.
She’s wearing a tight dark blue blouse that’s straining against her tits. That’s not all, though. The first two buttons are undone so when she leans down to place what she’s holding in front of me, I get a front-row view of the line between her creamy pale tits.
I grind my teeth with pure fucking anger at how my dick strains against my trousers.
Being attracted to Nicole or even seeing her as a woman should be the last item on my agenda.
“Here’s your coffee and the contract drafts that you asked for. I also emailed you a digital version in case you need it.”
“Are you a fucking whore?”
She jerks back at that, her eyes widening. “What is wrong with you first thing in the morning?”
“I should be the one asking that. Is seduction your next scheme?”
“W-what?”
I tilt my head to her chest and she slowly looks down, then clamps her fingers around the loose buttons. Red covers her cheeks, and if I didn’t know her better, I would’ve said she’s blushing.
But Nicole fucking Adler doesn’t do any blushing or most normal human feelings.
“That wasn’t on purpose.” She releases her shirt as soon as she buttons it, then stares at me. “And you’re the last man I’d ever attempt to seduce.”
“That’s because I won’t be seduced by you.”
“Perfect. We finally agree on something.” She fixes me with one of her haughty looks. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Then she turns around and leaves.
I’m tempted to call for her again, just to annoy the fuck out of her as much as she’s making my life hell.
Maybe it’s not worth it, after all.
Maybe I should throw her out and continue living like I did before she showed her face in New York.
Then I’m hit with all the fucking things she did and the way she turned my life upside down and I instantly wipe those thoughts away.
Taking a sip of my coffee, I flip through the document. Red marker in hand, I underline any words and sentences that I want replaced and circle the ones that need to be removed.
Once I’m finished, I take it to her. I could call her over, but I like catching her off guard. She’ll slightly jump in her seat and her lips will fall open as her green eyes widen.
It’s a view I’ve been actively trying to recreate every chance I get.
Before I open the door, however, I see her leaning against her desk, facing the wall and holding a phone to her ear.
Although her back is the only thing visible, her shoulders are tense and her spine is snapped in a line.
Instead of my plan of forceful entry, I slowly open the door. She doesn’t pay me any attention as she manically taps her foot on the floor.
