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Again, he has that pissed-as-hell tone, like I’ve really screwed up, but I can’t fathom what it’s about. But if I learned one thing over Thanksgiving, it’s that he sometimes lashes out because he cares. Like his anger over me taking a helicopter in bad weather. And his strained relationship with his mother.
“Of course, sir.” I get up from my desk and remember what Aubrey said. Just because I decided I won’t have sex with him again doesn’t mean I can’t torture the guy. I put a little extra swing in my step as I sashay into his office. I’m in a forest green sweater with a criss-cross collar and an opening that frames my decolletage. I wore knee-high boots beneath my pencil skirt. Every day I get better at walking in heels. I stop inside the door and lean my hip against the wall.
“Yes, sir?”
He casts me a dark look, his gaze sweeping up and down my outfit, lingering on the boots, and then on the window to my breasts.
He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Odd for a man who usually cuts right to the point. “Bring me one of those waters,” he commands.
I would swear he just came up with that on the spot. Like he wasn’t sure why he called me into his office and then made up a reason.
Could it be my boss is as conflicted about what happened between us over the weekend as I am?
“Of course,” I say smoothly, pushing off the wall and gliding—as well as I can glide in heels—to the kitchen refrigerator to fetch him the fancy water in a glass bottle that he likes.
When I return, I set it on his desk without opening it. Lord knows, I remember what happened last time when I tried to unscrew it while walking in heels.
Brick draws in a long breath as I stand beside him, his nostrils flaring.
“Anything else?” I breeze, my voice holding the same notes of pleasant attentiveness it held on the day he hired me. As if nothing at all has changed what we are to each other.
The pen between Brick’s fingers snaps. Literally snaps. I don’t know how that’s even possible without using both hands.
It wasn’t some plastic Bic pen either. It was one of those sleek metal pens that cost one hundred and twenty-eight dollars. I know because I order them for him.
“Open it,” he commands, his voice deep and gruff.
What the hell? Is he just getting off on bossing me around right now? If we were still playing our games, I would be up for it, but I’m too raw from Thanksgiving. From getting close to him, seeing the personal side of him—his family, his wounds—and then getting hustled out the back entrance like the servant that I am. Not hearing a word from him for the rest of the weekend.
I normally pride myself on keeping it together, keeping a facade up when I’m supposed to be professional, but I finally break. After smoothing my walls up all weekend, he just cracked one down again.
“Are you trying to get me to quit again?” I snap.
“No!” The word explodes out of him, almost as if he’s alarmed.
He snatches my wrist, tugging me closer before releasing it again, as if I scalded him. “No,” he repeats. He clears his throat. “Never mind.” His tone is back to professional. “You can go.”
Oh no. I can’t go. Not without actually addressing what’s between us. This is too weird.
“Listen, about this weekend?—“
Brick’s gaze snaps to my face, and I definitely see conflict in his stormy eyes.
“Things are getting too… confusing. Or…complicated. I think we should just keep it professional from here on out.”
“Right.” He looks like he bit into a rotten plum. “I had, uh, concluded the same thing.”
I hold my head a little higher. “Good.” I point at the water bottle. “So open your own water from now on. We wouldn’t want me to reenact my soak and grope from my first week.”
Brick chokes on a mirthless laugh. “Maybe that’s what I was hoping for.” Suddenly he’s real again. His shoulders relax, and some of the storm leaves his face. “You got me.”
Okay. Cool. I guess he was as conflicted as I was, and I just straightened things out. I toss him a knowing smile as I turn and strut out.
We can do this. We can totally keep things professional.
I feel back on solid ground. Brick just handed me the power by acknowledging he’s still attracted to me. Aubrey was right. I can keep up the torture. I have the upper hand here.
I’m not going to lose my head or my heart to my billionaire boss.
