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"What are you doing?" she asks when she sees me beside her.
"What does it look like?"
"It looks like you're following me," she grumbles.
"Clever Rissie."
She scoffs and continues making her way to her office, walking faster with every step, as if trying to get away from me.
But my longer legs make it easier to match her step for step, making it clear she isn't going to shake me.
"Matthias! I'm just going to my office."
"Go ahead, don't let me stop you."
"You're so annoying!" She brakes to a stop, and shoves my shoulder with her hand, her face a clear picture of frustration.
I take a step back, giving her some space as she takes a deep breath.
"Why are you here?" she shouts.
She sways a little and it makes my heart stop. "Will you please just go to your office so we can get out of here?"
"That's where I was going, dickhead!"
"Then why did you stop?"
Her whole face scrunches up and, for a moment, I expect steam to come out of her ears. "Because you're one of the most infuriating men, I've ever met in my fucking life, Matthias Baxter."
"Why, little Rissie Masters, that might just be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
She huffs, but the tension from the earlier moment seems gone and she stomps to her office with me right on her tail.
Once inside, I close the door behind us and she stands behind her desk, as if she's trying to put a barrier between us. That's fine by me, I've talked to leaders of G7 nations, the richest men in the world, fuck that, Iamone of the richest men in the fucking world, but something about this woman completely unnerves me.
Probably because you know that she'd stab you in the back while smiling right to your face.
"Clarissa. Get your stuff. I'm taking you to the hospital."
"I. Don't. Need. To. Go. To. The. Hospital." Tired, purple ringed eyes stare at me in defiance.
But I'm not here to play around. "I. Don't. Care. What. You. Think. You. Need." I brace my hands on the edge of the table. "Let's go."
I don't know what I expect her to do, but it's not this.
She leans forward in her seat and stares right back, challenging me.
"Why are you doing this, Matthias? What do you want from me? Because I know for fucking sure that you don't give a shit about me or the bump on my head."
My stomach drops to the floor, as well as my voice. "You have a bump on your head?" An ice cube feels like it's making its way up my esophagus and I swallow it down with an audible gulp.
She notices.
She notices something, but I'm not sure what it is.
But her face opens, just a little, like a crack in the door.
I take advantage of the moment. "One, Idogive a shit if you have a bump on your head, that's why I'm here to get you checked out, and two, I want to talk about... the thing I said... before... upstairs when... the thing... happened. Before."
