“I think that wraps it up. Thanks, guys.” I smile at the group sitting around the conference table with me.
I’ve been given free rein to use these five employees from M.E.’s internal PR team. They’re all very cooperative and seem to be team players. Which is good since it’s already nearing lunch time on Monday, giving us less than one week until the big press conference.
I glance at the time on my phone. “Sorry, we went a little longer than I planned. If you can all have your items to me tomorrow by noon, that’d be great.”
There’s a chorus of affirmations as we all start to stand.
Noticing a shift in the energy in the room, I look up from the papers I’m organizing. Everyone has stopped moving. All frozen in place. Staring at me.
I open my mouth to ask them what’s wrong when a familiar voice speaks from the doorway. They aren’t staring at me. They’re staring at the person standing directly behind me.
“Sorry to interrupt. I just need a moment with Ms. Clark.”
Ms. Clark? The combination of his voice and his professional tone have desire and annoyance battling for dominance inside my body. I clench my fists and fight to maintain my cool. This jerk just walks into my meeting like he didn’t insinuate that I was sleeping with his assistant, and my brother, the last time I saw him. The audacity of this bitch.
With my back to the door, and Vincent, I give a tight smile and a nod to the team. Taking that as permission to leave, they all hustle out of the room. A few of the women give Vincent lingering looks, but fear of his reputation apparently outweighs the possibility of flirting with the Mr. Sin.
“Sasha.”
His voice is close. Too close. But the weekend did nothing to cool my anger and I can’t look at him yet.
“Yes.” My tone is clipped.
“Do you have a moment?”
“No. Sorry.” I don’t sound sorry. I’m also lying. I have an hour before my next meeting.
Not wanting to give Vincent any time to sway me, I scoop up my things and spin around to leave. I turned away from his voice so I could slip around him, but he planned for my evasion. And moved.
He’s right there in front of me.
Momentum keeps me from being able to stop. My free hand automatically comes up to prevent me from crashing into him. His chest is hard and warm under my palm.
That half second of contact has my pulse picking up and my blood heating. I jerk my hand back and step around him. He doesn’t try to stop me, and I’m glad. Or I should be glad. Talking to him is a bad idea. Touching him is an even worse idea. But I still crave him. He’s like a drug that I just can’t get out of my system.
My office is only a few doors down, so I make it to safety quickly. I shut my door for the small sense of protection it brings, then drop down into the chair behind my desk.
“Get yourself together, Sasha.” I mumble to myself. A second before my door opens.
I look up and watch Vincent as he steps into my office, closing the door behind him. I shouldn’t be surprised by anything he does anymore. It seems that I still forget that he owns this company, and he can do whatever he wants and go wherever he pleases. I’m just thankful I didn’t drop my forehead to my desk like I wanted to.
I continue to watch him in silence as he lowers himself onto my single visitor’s chair. It’s almost laughable to see him fold his large body into the small chair. It’s not a terrible chair, but it’s not built for someone his size. I internally smile as he shifts in discomfort.
My eyebrows hit my hairline when Vincent sets a to-go cup of coffee on my desk and nudges it towards me.
Did he seriously bring me a coffee? For what? An apology?
Slowly, I reach out and pick it up. Hesitating when I see that it’s from BeanBag. Either he noticed that the coffee I brought Brent was from there, or he asked Brent where to go. Because there’s no way this is a coincidence.
Removing the lid, I sniff the drink, eyes still on Vincent. His expression is serious, but his eyes hold a touch of humor. Lifting the cup to my lips, I give him a once over while I sample the latte. He looks just as handsome as the last time I saw him. His constant shadow of a beard and dark hair are impeccably imperfect, as always. I’m guessing he has a suit jacket in his office, but right now he’s in a dark gray button up shirt and black pants. Being near him always makes me glad that I’ve collected a nice wardrobe, like today’s fitted plum dress. He’s intimidating enough without adding feelings of clothing inadequacy.
When the beverage hits my lips, my eyes widen.
Vincent smirks.
I lick the froth from my lip. I don’t know how he knew, but he got my favorite afternoon pick-me-up.
He stares at me a moment longer before speaking. “I’m sorry.”
He’s sorry. Great.
I keep watching him.
“For what I said on Friday.” He clarifies. As if I was unsure what his most recent asshole behavior was.
I watch him for another moment, waiting for further explanation, but get none.
Holding back my sigh, I give him a nod and my best professional tone. “Noted. Thank you for the coffee.”
Turning my attention away from him, I unlock my laptop. Then wait. Vincent doesn’t move. He doesn’t do anything. Fine. Two can play at this game. I open my email and pretend to read a few messages. I have to pretend because I can’t actually concentrate with the Devil sitting across my desk, staring at me.
Needing to occupy my hands, I open up a new email, addressed to myself, and start typing out all the insults I can think of. There are many.
I’m wondering how long we’ll go on like this when Vincent finally lets out an audible exhale. I stop typing but I don’t look his way.
“Look, I apologize. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to those conclusions. Can we please put it behind us and move on?”
I start typing again. This time I’m using full sentences. My keystrokes are getting aggressive. This bag-of-dicks apology is more useless than a hairbrush dipped in tar and covered in stranger’s pubes.
“Sasha.” Vincent has the nerve to sound exasperated.
I finally snap. “What, Vincent? What do you want from me? You are honestly the most frustrating man I’ve ever met in my entire life! You think you can just snap your fingers and everything will be as you wish. Your apology sucked worse than your attitude. Sure, you said the word sorry, but that doesn’t just wipe the slate clean. I’m here to work. I’m here to make your life easier. But instead of helping me do my job, you have literally made it harder at every step. Holding back information. Being generally difficult. Implying that I’m some sort of slut that sleeps with anyone willing. Well, you know what, my sex life is none of your damn business. I can fuck whoever I choose. But at least give me some credit. I might not be one of your usual runway models, but I don’t need to go around spreading my legs for anyone who looks.”
Instead of looking chastised, Vincent looks enraged. “The fuck you will!” He booms. “You don’t get to choose anybody. I don’t share. And fight it all you want, but this thing between us isn’t over. I’ll stay out of your way while you do your job. But if you think you can go out and fuck other guys, you’re wrong. End of discussion. And if there’s some walking-dead-man out there that needs to get that message, I’ll tell him myself.”
I’m so stunned at his outburst; all I can do is shake my head.
“Good.” I’m not sure if I just agreed to something, but he still sounds angry. “And I don’t want to ever hear you talk about yourself like that again. You’re the sexiest woman in this building. I swear to fucking god, if I have to watch one more of my employees mentally undress you, I’m going to start throwing people out the fucking windows. And I’m quite sure that’d make your job harder.” He pushes up to standing. “I’m sorry for being a prick before. But I’m not sorry about being a prick right now. We needed to get on the same page.”
He takes the two steps to the door before turning back to face me. “Send the talking points directly to me. Not to Brent.” I open my mouth to reiterate that there’s nothing between me and Brent, but Vincent holds his hand up to stop me. “I don’t care. Just do it.”
I’m pretty sure I hear him mutter something about making me insane before he disappears out my door and down the hall.
I blink at my empty doorway for several moments. What in the hell just happened? We needed to get on the same page? What page was that exactly?
I shake my head and turn my eyes to the ceiling. This man has more mood swings than a pharmacy. I should be mad at him for how he just yelled at me. But if I’m going to be honest with myself, I’m more than a little turned on right now. The whole caveman act shouldn’t be attractive, but it is. And if we weren’t in an occupied office building, I’d probably have thrown myself over the desk at him.
Blinking out of my trance, I glance at the clock. I don’t have time to try and figure this damn man out. Things are going to move fast this week. I can’t let my hormones distract me any more than they already have.
