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Slamming my palm against the desk, I slide my chair back a few feet so I can see them both simultaneously instead of whipping my head back and forth like I’m seated center court at freaking Wimbledon.
“Excuse me. I’m sitting right freaking here. Did either of you consider asking me? Did it not occur to you that I might have already talked to Boss about some of these things and know what the plan is?”
Tomer’s face falls, but Klein’s grows impossibly tighter. One of his sexy eyebrows arches higher than the other. “Do you know the plan?”
Shit.
Deflect. Deflect.
“That’s not the point.”
He narrows his eyes into a squint. “Isn’t it, though?”
“No, it’s not. The point is that you guys were talking about me like I’m not here, and I don’t appreciate it. I know I’m new and all, but…”
My words trail off when he leans forward. He shifts in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and flashing a smirk so damn smirky that I’m consumed with the urge to lick it off his face.
Attempting to continue my sentence, I stammer, “But, uh, well…” What the fuck was I saying before he smirky-smoldered at me like fucking Flynn Rider? “I know I’m new, but that—”
He rolls his eyes and cuts me off. “It’s a simple question, Mia, if that’s even your real name. Do you know the plan or not?”
My neck kicks back at his snide words like I was sucker punched.
Tomer tries to defuse the mounting tension. “Klein, easy.”
“It’s not about the plan. It’s the principle, Cal,” I insist.
“I told you to call me Klein,” he snaps, dark and raspy.
Tomer shifts in his chair, momentarily distracting me from the vitriol being slung at me. “Kill me now.”
Cal pounces on my hesitation. “If you want to be part of this team, you’re going to need to jump in when you have something to say. We move fast around here. If you have an answer to a question someone is asking, put on your big girl panties and answer it.”
I bolt up, steam practically billowing from my ears. “Excuse me? My big girl panties?”
He lurches to his feet with equal force, eyeing me down and towering over me by half a foot or more.
I don’t usually let people rile me up like this. I’m often ten steps ahead of others, thanks to all my diligentresearchand the time I put into planning my tactful approach— just like I did with Tomer earlier when I surrendered my laptop. That didn’t just come to me in the moment. It was in the can and ready to go.
But something about Calvin motherfucking Klein has shaken me from my game.
Yeah, his name is hilarious. Go ahead and laugh. I’ll wait.
My boobs are sweating, and I feel the freaking blood rushing into my cheeks and neck.
Squaring my shoulders and raising my chin at him, I poke him in his way too firm chest. Right where the damn angel wings tattoo is. And I really wish I didn’t know it was there, but I do. And I can’t get it out of my mind, so that’s where I’m poking him.
“You heard me. What’s the answer to the question, Mia? Do you know the plan for your field training or not? Because if Tomer is going to devise a training plan and get everything coordinated with other people, then he needs to know.”
Come up with something, Mia. Think fast. Faster than that. Think at warp speed.
I need to snark back. Put him in his place. Assert myself before he gets the upper hand.
Today sets the tone for my role on the team. As a woman in a man’s world, I come into these situations at a disadvantage. If I’m a pushover now, then that’s how they’ll always see me.
But I biffed the shit out of this.
Instead of flipping my lid, I should have made a playful joke about the way they were talking over me. Something to lightheartedly bring it to their attention without devolving into this shit show. Now I’ve left myself without a response, seconds from making a fool out of myself.
